The Fall And Rise Of Reggie Dinkins is a clever, silly hangout comedy

Whatever idea you have in your head about the type of character Morgan is playing is likely correct. He’s a somewhat lovable buffoon whose lack of basic understanding about the world sometimes beggars belief. He has at least one foot in reality compared to Tracy Jordan, his most obvious precedent, but it’s often difficult not to spot similarities between the two. (When someone says they “always bet on Reggie Dinkins” late in the pilot, he cheerfully replies, “Just like I did, illegally.”) Reggie is a very flawed man who owes more than a few apologies to the people in his life—from his ex-wife/agent Monica (Erika Alexander, great as always) and  teenage son Carmelo (Jalyn Hall) to his young influencer fiancée Brina (Precious Way) and basement-dwelling best friend Rusty (Bobby Moynihan, who makes Morgan’s performance feel subtle by comparison)—but there’s a consistent warmth in his interactions. 

The highlight, of course, is Reggie and Arthur’s odd-couple pairing. Radcliffe has the straight-man role here, meticulously documenting the daffy personalities around him while offering his own Halpertesque reactions. Hearing Radcliffe dabble in “urban slang” is its own reward, much in the same vein as Harrison Ford murmuring the phrase “raw dog” on Shrinking. Crucially, though, Arthur is dealing with his own fall from grace following a nervous breakdown on the set of his scrapped Marvel movie. His charming accent and gregariousness come with a noticeable (if underdeveloped) strain of darkness and obsession, like Liz Lemon at her most manipulative or Ben Wyatt channeling his depression.

Whenever Radcliffe does get the spotlight, he’s a delight, as in a too-brief romantic subplot opposite Megan Thee Stallion. One does get the sense that this ensemble requires more than ten episodes to really settle into their relationships, though, even if the dynamics feel more lived-in as the season progresses. Monica and Brina quickly evolve beyond their initial characterizations of bitter ex and potential trophy wife, respectively, developing a sort of tender auntie-niece dynamic, but it only gets so much time to shine. Meanwhile, Monica’s tentative steps back into the dating pool are basically limited to one episode, and Rusty’s insecurities about Arthur usurping his role in Reggie’s life are cartoonish. (Rusty skews too loud and broad in general, though a fair share of his lines still land.) With Reggie and Arthur at the center of the story, the remaining supporting characters are usually stranded in a subplot together by default. Monica, Brina, and Rusty eventually make for an amusing trio, but it’s not always clear why they would be in the same space. Carmelo’s presence is even less consistent, though he brings sincerity and snark in equal measure during some solid talking heads.

Without any real plot concerns, Carlock and Means still have the space to take some detours, like in one episode centered around the mystery of who caused Reggie’s ugly head bust to disappear. And the season ends in a satisfying enough place, providing plenty of room to keep Arthur’s documentary crew around for additional batches. Maybe with that extra time, this affectionate, funnier-than-average sitcom could become the best version of itself and ascend, if not to 30 Rock levels, then at least to Girls5eva ones.   

Ben Rosenstock is a contributor to The A.V. Club.