Master Of None

We’re all going through tough times.  Some of us are still dealing with symptoms of Parks & Recreation withdrawal, even though we finished this delicious sitcom over two years ago.  How I still envy my friend who made her first watch last (after following my recommendation to take on this particular boxset in the first place) by rationing the episodes over time and taking care to watch each several times before moving onto the next one.  What we both had in common, though, was only discovering Leslie Knope and her Pawnee pals many years after the show had finished broadcasting.  Such is the power of late boxset discovery.  If we really make an effort, there’s every chance we can get through all the TV shows ever made.  Surely that’s something to cherish on the deathbed.  But, in keeping with my penchant for coming to things late, I recently spotted the two seasons of Master Of None on Netflix.  For a reason that at this point was unknown to me, this show was all the rage back when it appeared between 2015 and 2017.  Aziz Ansari was striking out on his own, leaving behind Tom Haverford whose teachings about Treat Yoself Day (nothing beats his and Donna’s mantra: fine leather goods) and hilarious expressions live on in memories I recall on a regular basis.  I recall awards buzz and maybe even awards wins that I am too lazy to look up.  Let’s be honest, you’re dying to hear what I thought, so let’s proceed.

Master Of None at first appears to be gentle viewing.  It’s amusing but doesn’t bend over backwards to provide lols.  There’s narrative tension, but it doesn’t necessarily sensationalise itself to produce drama.  Yet, you care.  And that’s because Ansari as Dev Shah is a rather likeable everyman.  A New York-based millennial reaching the point in adult life when you’ve got to ask yourself some questions about your career, your relationships and your dreams if you’re not already on the conveyor belt of generic lifestyle steps that starts with engagement and ends in babies, Dev dabbles in acting.  His real passion is saved for eating food that needs to be as delicious as possible.

The first season settles, with some wobbling, into a meandering pace, dealing in turn with such issues as parenthood, having foreign parents, ageing, dating morals (would you pursue a married lover?) and representations of Indians in the media.  There’s a universality to some of this, but the frank examination of America’s relationship with certain ethnic heritages delivers refreshing and challenge thought provocation, all while keeping within the show’s friendly style.  It’s part social comment, part whimsy.  A storyline casually emerges as Dev’s relationship with the charming Rachel (Noël Wells) progresses thanks mostly to her inability to be offended by his jokes, creating a new layer of jeopardy as we will these lovers to make it together.

Series two has a more experimental feel.  The action shifts to Italy (for pasta making), while episodes freewheel boldly with their own style.  There’s black and white, flashbacks, montages and an assembly of loosely interconnected stories that shines a light on the experience of newer New York immigrants, contrasting it against Dev’s own attitudes as someone born in the USA.  He’s as self-entitled as the child of any developed country, but this constantly has him at odds with his more pious Indian parents (played by his real-life mum and dad).  A new love story emerges, and you’ll track its star-crossing with the same anxiety you might have found elicited by Normal People.  Master Of None dares itself not to give you what you think you want.

I took to taking in my episodes in the bath, something which ramped up when I solved my heatwave woes by filling the bath with cold water and immersing myself at various points during the day when my own sweat was causing me to slip off my laptop keyboard.  Dev and his pals quickly feel like old friends, even though some of their lines can be slightly mumbled.  Every so often, we’re treated to a bit of Orange Is The New Black’s Danielle Brooks stealing scenes as Dev’s agent while Eric Wareheim’s Arnold grew on me over time despite my initial resistance.  Lena Waithe comes into her own in the Thanksgiving episode (which she wrote), offering a sensitive telling of a story we see represented all too rarely.

Master Of None doesn’t necessarily make you feel strong feelings.  It’s subtler than that.  It champions what you might otherwise miss and doesn’t care about what you’re used to seeing.  It’s playful throughout and therefore an undeniably nice watch.  It made me think and it made me feel and, if any more comes along, I’ll definitely be pressing play.