‘Mid-Century Modern,’ aka ‘The Gay Golden Girls,’ Has Stolen From the Best Exquisitely
In an American city known for its pleasant weather and high concentration of retirees, there’s a stylish bungalow. In it live three friends. There’s a sweet dimbulb, a Southern wit and a sardonic protagonist trying to ignore a drumbeat of insecurities even though they’re being broadcast by the protagonist’s mother — who, by the way, also lives there. It can be hard to date with divorce trauma and stretch marks, but that’s no reason not to try, so there are wisecracking conversations about racy underwear, shameful hookups, and PrEP… because I’m not talking about The Golden Girls, I’m talking about Mid-Century Modern. For their latest, Will & Grace co-creators David Kohan and Max Mutchnick have stolen from the best, and I couldn’t be happier they did.
Premiering all 10 episodes of its first season on Hulu tomorrow, Mid-Century Modern takes place almost entirely in an elegant Palm Springs home owned by Bunny Schneiderman (Nathan Lane). Bunny’s dearest friends Arthur Broussard (Nathan Lee Graham) and Jerry Frank (Matt Bomer) reunite with him at a funeral for George, another Palm Springs resident and the fourth member of their tight-knit group; now that George has died, Bunny’s not sure how his life is going to work. After the ceremony, Bunny impetuously suggests that Jerry and Arthur leave their homes in Atlanta and New York (respectively) and move into his guest rooms. A date with Antonio (Renan Pacheco) from GayDecemberRomance goes well enough for Bunny to consider a future with him that wouldn’t include roommates, but of course, we wouldn’t have a show if he didn’t change his mind back, telling Arthur and Jerry he’s already found the love of his life in their friendship: “Yes, it’s sexless and annoying, but what long-lasting love story isn’t?” Bunny’s mother Sybil (Linda Lavin) lives in the house’s fourth bedroom, so she’s on site to needle the divas about their nonsense.
Like The Golden Girls, Mid-Century Modern is instantly accessible. You don’t have to have direct experience with people who share the leads’ demographics — straight widows and divorcées, gay male singles, people “of a certain age” — to find these characters lovable and hilarious. Everyone takes turns being the level-headed one in a house full of kooks, so there isn’t a (no pun intended) straight man who gets left out of the goofs. Though Bunny is technically our lead, it only takes until the second episode before he gets to be ridiculous, trying to barter sexual favors from Jerry to a local casino pit boss in exchange for the return of his blackjack losses. The blissfully oblivious Jerry, meanwhile, is busy trying for Donny Osmond tickets, ever in pursuit of an “orgOsmond.”
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Arthur and Sybil are usually sparring partners — and not, as Arthur jokingly suggests, because she’s racist: “I never had a problem with you because you’re Black,” she says. “I had a problem with you because you’re a bitch.” Sybil also gets space for her own mischief, as when she and her best friend Judy (Rhea Perlman) fall out over petty complaints about each other and end up sitting on opposite sides of the country club dining room, elaborately flipping each other the bird. (Being on Hulu means the production gets to use profanity, but network veterans Kohan and Mutchnick are judicious about deploying it for maximum impact — for instance, when Sybil tells an old family friend, “As my mother used to say: time is a cunt.”) The specificity is what makes the show feel so engaging. In our different ways, aren’t we all self-deluded, self-involved, self-important, chasing our silly passions and nursing our silly grudges?
Mid-Century Modern is about more than just merriment, and its specificity extends to the things it has to say about the moment we’re all in. Though immense strides have been made for LGBTQ+ rights, Jerry was raised in the Church of Latter-day Saints, and wasn’t always so confident about his true identity. His wife outing him in front of their whole congregation and keeping his daughter from him are wounds he still feels, but hooking up with another betrothed Mormon on Fire Island gives him an opportunity to share what he’s learned. The introduction of Bunny’s younger sister Mindy (Pamela Adlon) lets the siblings talk openly about their very different experiences being raised by Sybil. Arthur has to face the reality that he was fired from his big job at Vogue, and that now he needs to find something to like about being a personal shopper at Palm Springs’ fanciest department store, if only so he can start buying La Mer moisturizer again and quit refilling his jar with Jergens. Sybil and Judy admit their squabble with each other is just sublimated pain over their friend Sally having to move into a memory-care facility.
Even when the show is taking on painful topics, it avoids Very Special heaviness. For instance, flight attendant Jerry needs someone to fulfill his duties while he speaks with someone from his past who happens to be on a flight he’s working; fortunately, Arthur is there on his way back to visit New York, and ably takes over behind Jerry’s cart, denying a passenger’s request for a sundae when Arthur thinks he should have fruit instead. Those of us who fondly remember Nathan Lee Graham’s performance in the tragically short-lived L.A. to Vegas will be particularly delighted to see him putting those skills to use again.
I’m not sure there are any circumstances under which I would have loved the episode about the housemates getting snowed by their neighbor, right-wing congresswoman Penny Newton Breene: Bunny’s objections to her policies are portrayed as reflexive and uninformed, though at least Jerry’s insistence that they have to try to build bridges to politicians who want to erase their existence as queer people ultimately doesn’t get the show’s endorsement. However, the fact that Penny is played by the highly compromised English Teacher star Stephanie Koenig sours the episode from the moment we see her. I also wish we could have seen more of the characters at work — particularly Arthur, making over bored and wealthy women, like the one played in the second episode by Vanessa Bayer — and more of Jerry working through the issues that still linger with his family. When producers have to write out the late Linda Lavin, there seems to be an obvious way of permanently filling the hole she’s left, but I guess just because it hasn’t happened in the first 10 episodes doesn’t mean it never will.
Lots of runway has been laid here for future seasons: maybe not seven and a spin-off, like The Golden Girls got, but I hope we do get much more.
