Shoresy is so much smarter—and funnier—than its meathead hero might suggest
With Letterkenny ending, its hockey-themed spin-off Shoresy has become a perfect vessel for Jared Keeso's distinctive brand of rapid-fire comedy
Last week, news broke that Jared Keeso’s long-running, beautifully vulgar Canadian sitcom Letterkenny would be coming to an end with its next season. This revelation wasn’t wholly surprising insofar as a) Letterkenny is coming up on its 12th season, which is a lot; b) the show’s 11th season had ended on a weirdly dour note that seemed to imply everybody involved was getting too old for kicking the crap out of Canada’s various degens from Upcountry every year; and, c) Keeso has been pretty busy of late, most notably with his spin-off series Shoresy. That show just released its entire second season on Hulu (in the States, anyway—it aired on actual TV in Canada) less than a week before the Letterkenny news broke.
Shoresy is, in its own weird way, an easier sell to the masses than Letterkenny, despite busting out some variant of “fuck” in its dialogue every six seconds or so, and being based around spinning off a title character whose role in the mothership series was almost entirely defined by his extremely detailed descriptions of having sex with his fellow hockey players’ moms. The core of the series is that simplest of feel-good premises: an underdog sports comedy about a crew of lovable losers trying to drag themselves up from the bottom of the rankings. (Taika Waititi is gearing up to hoe this exact same row with his upcoming movie Next Goal Wins, albeit probably without quite so many references to getting “squeezers off the side of our party island in Wasaga Beach.”)
Keeso (who played the character in Letterkenny, too, albeit with his face perpetually hidden) stars in the series as Shoresy, an aging hockey player with a taste for brutal hits and a bone-deep hatred of losing that he struggles to impart to his fellow players on a minor-league hockey team in Northern Ontario. In the first season, he pledged to the team’s frustrated owner, Nat (Tasya Teles), that the team would never lose again, on pain of being dissolved; the second opens with him, somewhat improbably, having (mostly) kept that pledge, with the Sudbury Bulldogs on a perpetual winning streak as the league’s champions. (It’s well in keeping with Keeso and long-time collaborator Jacob Tierney’s disinterest in traditional drama that the actual championship victory is relegated to the space between seasons; that’s not the story they’re interested in telling.) Shoresy’s second season, then, is a far less common, and far more interesting, sports narrative than its already-good first: How do you keep winning, when the distractions and fatigues of constantly being the best start to wear on you? And how far can you actually go?