Whenever I tried to engage with the third season of Nobody Wants This, all I got from the screen was a mild shrug (heavy spoilers from this point onwards). It felt as though creator Erin Foster had either grown tired of this story or run out of ideas, which is why the charismatic performances are so severely wasted on mediocre gags and unimaginative drama. To give credit where it's due, there are at least three or four scenes that warrant your attention, such as the wedding of one Mr. Brian, which gives rise to one of the most romantic twists in the series, and a tracking shot of Morgan (Justine Lupe) that's charged with sexual tension. But apart from these few highlights, Season 3 of Nobody Wants This is largely forgettable. It leaps from one point to another without constructing a bridge between them.
For instance, Joanne (Kristen Bell) meets Sebastien (Andrew Rannells) at Judaism class, and he immediately establishes a passive-aggressive undercurrent between them because he thinks she's "too much drama." He doesn't add her to a WhatsApp coffee group and looks down on her story about why she chose to convert to Judaism. However, instead of showing Joanne gradually winning Sebastien's approval—or even allowing her to take the high ground by deciding that she doesn't care for his approval—Season 3 eventually patches things up between them. You can't help but feel that much of the connective tissue has been cut out. I don't know whether this was done to accommodate a strict episode count or runtime restrictions, but the result is a storyline that feels strangely incomplete and lackluster.
The episode about Joanne's last Christmas is another example. At first, it appears that Joanne won't get to celebrate the festival the way she wants to. A heartbroken Morgan makes an excuse, saying that she has the flu; Lynn (Stephanie Faracy), Joanne and Morgan's mother, is upset that her backyard wasn't considered as a venue for Joanne and Noah's (Adam Brody) wedding; and Henry (Michael Hitchcock), well, doesn't exactly strike you as a man who knows how to handle Christmas decorations. Everything, in other words, points to a total disaster. Yet, surprise, surprise—not really, at least by this point—all the issues magically disappear at the snap of a finger. The decorations are taken care of, the flu somehow disappears, and personal disappointments are taken care of. Everybody suddenly becomes "mature" (or, if you prefer, develops a conscience) and decides that Joanne deserves a proper Christmas.
It's not that people can't change their minds at the last moment. It's that the entire resolution, this sudden coming together, reeks of convenience. As I mentioned earlier, rather than arriving at a solution step by step, Season 3 simply writes down the final answer and wraps it in a pleasing, amiable package to distract us from the real problems.
And the real problem is that these sudden, comfortable jumps in the narrative make Season 3 feel riddled with gaps in its character development. One wonders whether Foster and her team intended this season as padding before they could get to something more substantial next season, or whether they shot more material only to cut it during editing, leaving behind a season as bingeable, fluffy, and mediocre as so many Netflix titles.
Forget the gaps in the narrative for a moment. You know a series is in trouble when even the brief appearance of an actor—none other than Poorna Jagannathan—makes you wonder whether she originally had more to do, given how quickly she vanishes. Earlier guest stars such as Leighton Meester and Seth Rogen were given enough screen time, and certainly more than one scene, to leave an impression. How, then, can one believe that Jagannathan was cast for just one scene? You can't even call it a cameo; it's more like cameo-lite, to be honest. Travis (Avan Jogia), Joanne's ex, gets more screen time than Jagannathan's Eleanor, yet he doesn't contribute anything particularly significant to the show.
Yeah, yeah, sure, Travis serves a purpose. He highlights how Joanne can still feel unfulfilled despite having a seemingly perfect partner like Noah. She wants to flaunt her perfect romance in front of her ex as revenge for his failure to value her in the past. But Season 3 doesn't go anywhere particularly exciting with this idea. We see Joanne pretending to exercise outside her house to show off how hot she is, hoping Travis will beat himself up for leaving her. Then, when he turns up at her housewarming party, she fumbles and rambles in front of the guests. But did we really need these moments? They feel like empty calories and filler. Joanne doesn't go to any extreme lengths to flaunt her new life in front of Travis, and the jokes arising from her attempts are merely modest and passable. The series never really pushes her clumsiness far enough.
Eleanor, on the other hand, could have been used to generate substantial drama. Imagine her debating Morgan's ideas for her book and explaining why she considers the manuscript a disappointment to the field of literature. Eleanor's jabs and criticisms, coupled with Morgan's emotional reactions, would have made for a more absorbing storyline than most of what we get this season. They would also have given more bite to the scene in which Morgan discovers that Eleanor has rejected her. More importantly, this conflict could have exposed Morgan's insecurities about her career and made that rejection feel like a consequential turning point rather than another fleeting disappointment.
Bite. Yes. That's what's missing from this season. You can't help but feel that you're killing time while lying in a pool under the sun, even as important matters demand your attention. Why not establish a clearer, more unsettling connection between Joanne and an obsessive, chatterbox fan? The show could explore how Joanne allows herself to be manipulated by insincere compliments—even going so far as to give the fan her flight ticket—because she needs validation after becoming jealous of Morgan's apparently rising career (Morgan's solo podcast episode goes viral).
Or why not delve into Esther's (Jackie Tohn) mind to understand why she sleeps with Sasha (Timothy Simons) after breaking up with him and entering a new relationship with Julian (Steven Weber), especially after telling Julian that she feels uncomfortable seeing him date other women? What exactly drives this decision? These are the sorts of questions that could have made the season's interpersonal drama more compelling, but the show rarely seems interested in pursuing them beyond the initial setup. (Side note for trivia night: Weber's ex-wife, Juliette Hohnen, is a real estate broker, which is also Esther's profession.)
Finally, I didn't care even a little about Morgan and Sasha's quarrels. The reason is pretty simple: their conflict arises from tiring, second-rate clichés that make you want to scream at the characters for being such idiots. After sleeping together in New York, Morgan takes an early flight home without waking Sasha or informing him, then ignores his calls and messages. When she realizes her mistake after a conversation with Joanne, she runs to Sasha and apologizes, only for him to turn her down.
It's painfully obvious that they love each other. Even Morgan and Sasha know that they love each other. Yet they play the same old game of failing to express their feelings at the same time, just so the series can prolong the tension to fill this season and perhaps the next. What's more, I was never convinced by the reasons they gave for staying apart. Their arguments boil down to variations of "I don't want to get hurt" and "I'll ruin everything because I'm terrible." Perhaps these are valid concerns. The problem lies with me, I guess. I've grown tired of such immature excuses, recycled across countless rom-coms, instead of watching characters give themselves and each other a chance by actually dating for a few weeks or months.
What's more, whenever couples in these rom-coms do finally get together, the story inevitably steers them toward a happily-ever-after. And in Morgan and Sasha's case, it's difficult to imagine them being anything but compatible as a couple. Their chemistry is so evident that the series needs to work harder to make their continued separation feel emotionally believable.
I wouldn't call any of the three seasons of Nobody Wants This perfect, though it's worth mentioning that even at their lowest points, the series managed to keep me invested, thanks to Lupe's performance. In the previous two seasons, I found her consistently distinctive, with explosive expressions and subtle comic gestures. That streak of excellence falters in the third season, where Lupe is given far less to work with and Morgan consequently feels comparatively neutered. Perhaps this has something to do with all the unremarkable sobbing and pining over a boy. Or perhaps it's because she isn't given anything particularly memorable or witty to do or say here.
Morgan's appearance on a talk show is celebrated by her family and friends, but we barely get to see her wit in action. She points out that the host has had a facelift, and that's about all we get. On the bright side, since my attention was diverted from Morgan for the first time, I came to appreciate the contributions of other characters, particularly Bina's (Tovah Feldshuh) exaggerated drama and Lynn's excessively peppy yet amusing demeanor. Even Noah's openness, politeness, and willingness to talk things through were appealing to witness.
But I did miss being engrossed by Lupe. I hope she returns stronger next season. What's Nobody Wants This without her sarcastic remarks, constant eye rolls, and pleasingly self-absorbed nature—qualities that gradually get diluted as Season 3 progresses? I'll tell you what: a show that ends up living up to its title.
Final Score - [5/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times