How The Kominsky Method, Michael Douglas, Alan Arkin's brilliant Netflix show, mastered 'the art of ageing ungracefully'

Back when the third season of The Kominsky Method was announced without Alan Arkin, it seemed like the proverbial end was near. What could possibly be left of a show whose very foundation was its two main characters riffing off one another to create dramedy gold. Touted to be sitcom impresario Chuck Lorre’s most personal creation till date, The Kominsky Method has been one of those rare blends of a lot of humour, a lot of irreverence, a lot of heart, and most importantly, a lot of class. The series started off with Michael Douglas playing the titular role of Sandy Kominsky, a venerated acting coach in the city of Los Angeles trying to navigate the travails of aging with his millionaire, recently widowed agent friend Norman Newlander, played by a very gruff and lovable Alan Arkin. They are living a chapter of life that is no longer a stranger to loss – Sandy keeps saying repeatedly: “All my friends are dead”, while Norman describes the very act of attending funerals as “having a social life."

While addressing the indignities of ageing, that also come with loneliness, the show does not bemoan the process, but manages to find dark humour in it, without slighting it.

As people, however, these two ageing bros could not be more different. While Sandy runs his acting school with the help of his daughter Mindy (Sarah Baker), Norman shares a troubled relationship with his daughter Phoebe (Lisa Edelstein), who is always in and out of rehab. Sandy has had several broken relationships with a slew of ex-wives and lovers, but Norman has been a devoted and deeply-in-love husband to his Eileen, who eventually succumbs to cancer after a long, hard battle. It is only after her death that Norman, quite accidentally, reunites with his former lover Madelyn (Jane Seymour) in another committed relationship, while Sandy continues his short-lived affairs. The third season begins with Norman’s funeral where things soon take a turn from somber to hilarious to eventually plain bizarre, through Lorre’s brilliant writing. Throughout the season, Norman’s absence becomes a character in itself, wherein he pretty much drives the show when he makes Sandy the executor of his trust. Some new characters introduced in the previous season gain more prominence in this one – Mindy’s bald, pony-tailed, much-older boyfriend Martin (Paul Reiser), Norman’s estranged scientologist grandson Robbie (Haley Joel Osment), and Sandy’s first ex-wife Roz (Kathleen Turner). Roz, who was formerly serving as a doctor in the jungles of South America, returns to Los Angeles to spend time with her daughter, and somewhat fills in Norman’s shoes. There is no rekindling of romance here, there cannot be with the kind of bitter history they share, courtesy Sandy’s philandering and irresponsible ways. But in the gentle and not-so-gentle ribbing, and an unadulterated honesty, they fall back into an ease that can only exist between two people who have seen the worst. The familiarity between Douglas and Turner, who have starred together in ’80s hits like Romancing The Stone and Jewel Of The Line, cements the chemistry between their characters in the third season. Continuing the spree of meta cameos – after Allison Janney in Season 2 – is Morgan Freeman, who comes in as guest lecturer in Sandy’s acting school. Freeman and Douglas who go head-to-head in the episode, trying to establish (for the students) who makes a better teacher – success or failure (as an actor), will remain among the most memorable scenes in the show. Another meta message in class comes through Sandy’s soliloquy on ‘ the death scene,’ that seems to be alluding to the perennial cloud of mortality he has woken up to, especially after the loss of his only friend. “The living are irrelevant to the dying,” he tells his students. “Think about what actually happens in those final moments, when you’ve fully surrendered to the ultimate magic trick when we really and truly disappear.” The manner in which Lorre, the erstwhile laugh-a-minute legend, handles the subject of death with just the right blend of pragmatism and poignancy, never once falling into the trap of sentimentalising, is what makes The Kominsky Method one-of-a-kind. [caption id=“attachment_9674391” align=“alignnone” width=“640”]  Michael Douglas in The Kominsky Method[/caption] And the humour. Oh the humour! At one point earlier in the show, when Sandy philosophises, “we are passengers on boats slowly sinking”, Norman responds, “Your boat is slow? I’m like when the Titanic was pointing up”.

Failing health and ageing as themes always provide rich fodder for self-deprecating humour but not too many stories venture into the indignities of ageing masculinity.

Through its two powerhouse leads, who play titans of behind-the-scenes Hollywood, the show is also like an inside joke on the industry itself that is obsessed with the downsides of ageing, especially among its women. But Lorre subverts the stereotype, and plays this out through two men who are far from ageing gracefully, even as they deal with enlarged prostates, diminishing libidos, and lack of purpose. The show also takes a deeper look at the concept of second chances – be it in life, friendship, a dream or love. When later in life, acting coach Sandy realises a long cherished dream of becoming an actor, he confesses to Roz, “This late in life, I don’t know how to deal with a dream coming true.” Do dreams, even when realised, come with a shelf life? Can there be a point when that moment ceases to be as exhilarating as one had always imagined it to be? These are questions Lorre leaves us with. After a slow start in Season 1, when the peeing jokes appeared a tad much (“I pee in dots and dashes”), The Kominsky Method grew from strength to strength in the latter seasons, adding more layers and depth to characters and storyline. Of course, when two legends, with over a century of acting experience between them, run the show, there is nothing but brilliance waiting to happen. Douglas has already bagged an Emmy for his performance, and Arkin has shown us over and over just how irreplaceable he is. The supporting cast, especially Turner, Baker, and Edelstein, hold their own as they share the screen with the two titans. And let us observe a two-minute silence for wobbly Alex (Ramon Hilario), the Musso & Frank waiter – he is not dead, but probably making another trembling journey from the kitchen to the table. Those of us able to fight the Pavlovian impulse to skip to the next episode on Netflix, will be treated to the famous Chuck Lorre vanity cards at the end of each episode – short, confessional, self-aware notes about his journey through this show in particular, with trademark irreverence. I suggest you do not miss them. With The Kominsky Method, the creator has taken a brave step away from the winning formula of studio audiences and slapstick comedies, to create his most personal, and arguably his career-best work so far. Wisely deciding to stick to a limited run of three seasons, The Kominsky Method manages to bow out in style. The Kominsky Method is streaming on Netflix.