Episode 3 of Your Friends & Neighbours, titled “Theoretical Herpes,” doesn’t pull its punches. It’s one of those episodes that makes you simultaneously uncomfortable and weirdly amused, like being stuck at a dinner party where everyone’s smiling through gritted teeth. If the first two episodes served as gentle prods into the psyches of Westmont Village's passive-aggressive upper-middle class, this one grabs a crowbar and cracks the whole thing wide open.
Coop, played by Jon Hamm with that perfect blend of smugness and simmering self-loathing, is no longer sneaking around the edges—he’s all in. After a late-night snoop gone wrong and a run-in with a very awake and very naked Sam (Olivia Munn), he finds himself spiraling. He’s stealing things now—not for money, not for power, but because he can. Because he thinks he's entitled to answers, even if they aren't his to have.
That’s the thing about Coop: he's not the villain in the traditional sense. He's just a bored, disillusioned ex-writer with too much free time, a bruised ego, and the dangerous belief that everyone else has something more interesting going on. And maybe they do. But his approach—burglary, spying, casual blackmail—isn’t exactly the healthiest way to build community.
The episode's title, “Theoretical Herpes,” is not a metaphor or a clumsy joke. It’s a legitimate conversation topic that Coop hijacks and then weaponizes in a way only someone completely detached from social norms would attempt. It’s awkward, sharp, and uncomfortable—like the entire tone of the show distilled into one moment. If you weren’t already convinced that this man is on the verge of a total ethical collapse, this scene might be your tipping point.
Amanda Peet’s Mel gets more breathing room in this episode, and it’s about time. Her tension with Coop is no longer just background noise. There’s a painfully quiet scene between them where you can feel everything that's gone unsaid over the years—resentment, confusion, affection that’s turned brittle from lack of maintenance. Peet doesn’t overplay it, which makes it all the more effective. She’s not just the wife in the background anymore; she’s someone holding on to normalcy by her fingernails while her husband slowly loses the plot.
Sam, meanwhile, continues to be one of the more unpredictable characters. Olivia Munn plays her with a kind of studied recklessness. One moment she’s aloof, the next she’s carelessly revealing something that should probably stay buried. Her flirtation with Coop is like watching two people toss around a lit match in a room full of gasoline—and both pretending they’re just being friendly.
As for the neighbors? We get glimpses into their lives, some more disturbing than others. There’s a couple going through what appears to be a quiet, private implosion. There’s a dog that knows too much. There’s a child’s drawing that says more than any adult conversation. Every home Coop peers into reveals another crack in the Westmont Village façade, and the show does an excellent job of making you want to know more without ever fully spelling things out.
Visually, Episode 3 keeps up the sleek suburban aesthetic, but there’s an increasing unease in how it's filmed. Night scenes linger a bit too long, and windows reflect a little too sharply. It’s pretty, but it’s starting to rot at the edges—and that feels deliberate. Even the score is slightly more off-kilter now like it's trying to mimic Coop’s slow unraveling.
Now for the less flattering parts. The episode isn’t perfect. Some of the dialogue edges into trying-too-hard territory, particularly when it wants to be edgy. A few jokes land with a dull thud instead of a sly smirk. There’s also a feeling that the pacing could have been tighter in parts; a couple of scenes linger just long enough to wear out their welcome.
And while the premise of Coop the morally wayward neighborhood sleuth is still engaging, there's a risk of the show becoming too enamored with its own cleverness. Episode 3 teeters on that edge. If future episodes push too far into the smug, over-scripted territory, it could start to feel like a satire that forgot to bring enough heart.
Still, there's a lot to love. The performances remain sharp, the atmosphere is building beautifully, and the tension—both interpersonal and internal—is cranked up without becoming melodramatic. It’s a show that knows what it’s doing, even if its main character doesn’t.
Episode 3 doesn’t offer many answers, and that’s probably the point. It’s more about watching people crack under the weight of pretending they’re fine. Coop might be a creep, but he’s our creep. And as long as he keeps poking at the shiny surface of suburban peace, we’ll keep watching—partly horrified, partly thrilled, and totally hooked.
Final Score- [6.5/10]