There is no shortage of shows about the hilarity and discord that stems from marriage. With relationship dramas monopolizing television, it’s difficult for a show to make its mark with the same infectious immediacy of Amazon’s BBC transplant “Catastrophe.” Created by Sharon Horgan and Rob Delaney (who both also star as the focal couple), “Catastrophe” premiered with an abrasive charge at the start, forcing the will-they-won’t-they component to last little more than a scene before propelling us forward into the story, way beyond what other shows may take years to accomplish. The plot doesn’t dwell on whether the characters will get together after what’s meant to be a series of casual encounters during a business trip, it’s about their choice to do so in the face of an unplanned pregnancy and what realizations of subtle and prickly declarations of love arrive along the way. This isn’t a show with many I Love Yous and the writing works in reverse of the romantic comedy standard, but it’s overflowing with an abundance of affection, even with its sharpened claws at the ready.
“Catastrophe” has rarely (if ever) shied away from honestly depicting the raw ugliness of a relationship that’s taken pains to grow. Rob and Sharon are imperfect and have caused each other, as well as themselves, great pain over the years as they’ve balanced careers and children after an all too brief getting-to-know-you period. Despite this, they’ve also been one another’s main support through trying times — through Sharon’s possible fling with a college student, to Rob falling off the wagon and getting a DUI, to the death of respective parents — they’ve seen the worst of one another and have grown stronger for it. They lob the most hurtful of their insults at one another because they know what angers them best. They’re each other’s greatest champions and most aggravating walking, talking poke in the eye. “Catastrophe” handles narrative highs and lows with such skillful grace that we never doubt the couple’s commitment.
In its fourth and final season, “Catastrophe” picks up during the weeks following Rob’s DUI in season three’s final episode. Sharon’s residual anger is layered. She’s following him, not because she doesn’t trust him but because she’s afraid that if she blinks he’ll disappear. She’s furious that he’d drive her while secretly drunk but still wants his companionship for activities such as lunchtime breaks and “Game of Thrones.” The series’ ability to balance her genuine rage along with quiet acceptance of a man dealing with his own battles beautifully compliments a show that’s always been able to carry heavier subjects with just the right amount of levity to keep us laughing through our tears. It has never sacrificed the comedy for the drama, allowing each to organically grow with the characters as they experience new life events and relationships.
Catastrophe serves bittersweet tangs and undeniable optimism in equal measure. The former is easier to spot with the barbs the characters volley or the way they conduct friendships. Rob and Sharon’s two closest friends, Chris (Mark Bonnar) and Fran (Ashley Jensen), perfectly encapsulate the levels of extremity a couple can ascend to in their behavior but zeroes in primarily on the resentment that comes when life doesn’t go as planned and blame is passed. Their marriage, when we first meet them, is fraught with petty arguments and thinly veiled insults, Chris and Fran staying together mainly for the sake of their actor son. Season four sees their lives post-separation, eventually realizing that despite their mutual hostility they still cannot stand to watch one another date and they still long to share a life, even one as antagonistic as theirs.
Delaney and Horgan are as wonderfully suited for one another as they’ve always been, possessing lived-in chemistry that allows the foundation of the relationship to soar because we believe in their bond. Delaney plays the aggressively polite giant superbly, making it so that when real anger, hurt or sadness edges its way past his practically glued-on grin, it’s all the more piercing. Horgan plays the foil to his more restrained, tight-lipped humor with a snarl, upper lip curling around every misdeed or annoyance that crosses her, blunt to the point of being glib until her vulnerabilities begin to show or her empathy for husband or children are given the spotlight. They’re a tremendous comedic team, a seamless duo who understand when to allow the other the spotlight or when to share it comfortably. It would be a shame if this were the last project they ever share.
Past wrongs aren’t atoned for in momentous, advantageous proclamations. Rather, they’re begrudgingly worked through over time by the couple, through efforts so dimly lit they’d be easy to miss. It’s laughter that eases this pair’s wounds, along with their ability to face off against a world that doesn’t share their same sense of humor. It’s their team against the masses, it’s the only team they want to belong to. In the series finale, following the death of Rob’s mother (the late Carrie Fisher) and a service that celebrates her life while forcing the small familial unit into contact with their in-laws, Rob’s fuse blows. He gets nasty in his fight with Sharon, projecting his remorse of not being able to say goodbye to his mom at the closest moving target.
As always, they make up as they’re driving out of town with tired apologies at the ready as they take in the coastline. With the children asleep in the car, Sharon looks to have a little fun, jumping into the waves and beckoning Rob to follow, just as he notices a sign forbidding visitors from swimming in the water’s dangerous conditions. It’s flirty and darkly hilarious as the camera cuts from Sharon’s ignorant grin to Rob’s dawning realization. But instead of yelling for her to come back he follows, ready and willing as ever to take the dive into unknowable waters with this woman who he still has saved in his phone as “Sharon London Sex,” committed in every sense of the word. A sharply written ode to a relationship that will deeply resonate with viewers, as bright in its closing moments as it was at the very start, “Catastrophe” is one of the great modern comedies. “Catastrophe” makes its magic by shining a natural, often unflattering light on how marriage and relationships are little more than a long, enduring struggle to swim to shore, the riptide warning you of the dangers ahead, but taking the risky plunge nonetheless. [A]
