There has never been a TV character like Devi Vishwakumar. Lang Fisher and Mindy Kaling’s snappy and sweet teen comedy “Never Have I Ever” has long since felt like an example of the power of highly specific points of view in storytelling, and in its fourth and final season, its complex protagonist has only grown more dynamic – and chaotic. Devi is undeniably unique but often painfully relatable. She’s an uber-smart gifted kid with impulse control issues, but she’s also a grieving daughter, a comfortably well-off Los Angeles resident, an Indian-American Hindu girl, and a sex and relationship-obsessed teen. And after three four seasons crafting a coming-of-age story around a protagonist who’s often simply described as “a lot,” the final season of “Never Have I Ever” manages to keep all its plates spinning and end Devi’s story on a pitch-perfect high note.
“Never Have I Ever” has very few narrative constants in its final season, but its story picks up precisely where season 3 left off. Namely, audiences are brought right back to the chemistry-laden cliffhanger in which experience-hungry Devi (Maitreyi Ramakrishnan) knocks on the door of frenemy Ben (Jaren Lewison) to redeem the “one free boink” coupon he jokingly made for her earlier in the finale. It’s a plot point that sounds ridiculous on paper, but in practice, it’s proof that Kaling, who cut her teeth on the rom-com-obsessed series “The Mindy Project,” speak the language of love stories incredibly well. The series has matured alongside its protagonist, and by the time its final episode rolls around, the show has delivered a relationship endgame that feels as satisfying and assured as Devi’s past romantic missteps are embarrassing.
While it may be tempting to view this series in terms of a simple, headline-friendly love triangle (or square, as other parties, like Michael Cimino’s new bad boy character Ethan, often pop up), “Never Have I Ever” has a lot more on its mind than the aggressive teenaged thirst of its protagonist. The final season sees Devi facing down senior year, and realizing that reality seems doomed to fall short of her long-held expectations for the future. Nearly every plot this season sees Devi and her classmates dealing with crushing wake up calls and readjustments as their best-laid plans go awry. Whether it’s Paxton (Darren Barnet) discovering that his social standing in college is much different than it was in high school, Fabiola (Lee Rodriguez) accidentally falling for a school that’s not the one she pictured, or Eleanor (Ramona Young) making unexpected career moves, “Never Have I Ever” seems determined to make its characters question their futures up until the eleventh hour.
Surprisingly, the theme of adjusted expectations actually works well, thanks largely to the show’s clever writing and the fact that it’s an aspect of coming-of-age stories that’s rarely explored on screen in such granular detail. “Never Have I Ever” is silly and heightened, sure, but it’s also grounded in familiar truths. In its earlier season, the show was a sort of “Fleabag” for teens, and its most resonant truths focused largely on how grief impacts the behavior of the grieving in wide-ranging, often uncomfortable ways. The specter of Devi’s late father is still there, but in season 4, “Never Have I Ever” is more concerned with a different uncomfortable truth: growing up can be a letdown. With this idea, Kaling and Fisher subvert genre expectations and come away with something contemplative, realistic, and cathartic – for viewers of all ages.
Don’t let any of this convince you that “Never Have I Ever” has lost its sense of humor in its final season: the show remains screamingly funny, chock-full of wild one-liners and absurd asides. Whether it’s corny hippie teacher Mr. Shapiro (Adam Shapiro, underused but frequently hilarious) talking about “being reminded of America’s pronouns,” series narrator John McEnroe excusing himself to play Wordle while the teens make out, or Devi tanking her chance at a letter of recommendation by screaming explicit anatomical references in front of an elderly faculty member, “Never Have I Ever” has a zany joke for every situation.
Much of the show’s cast trades in obvious, less-than-natural line deliveries of the variety that would feel more at home in a multi-cam sitcom. But this is a performance quirk long-time viewers will certainly be used to by now. The show’s most effortlessly funny castmate remains Benjamin Norris, who plays himbo stoner Trent. Trent seems like he may have gotten held back last season just so Norris would have an excuse to stick around, and fans are better for it: the character adds an endearing stupidity and sweetness to every scene he’s in.
In the end, the greatest strength of “Never Have I Ever” may be its consistent lack of judgment of its teen girl characters during an era when media is often viewed through the most narrow and exhausting moralistic lenses possible. Devi has the kind of casual sex that once doomed girls in prime time TV to a requisite pregnancy scare, but this show celebrates it – as it should. She does also frequently screw up in earnest, lying to her mom, icing out her friends, and at one point threatening to beat a guy to death with a skateboard. Devi is imperfect, but far from unapologetic. She’s constantly saying she’s sorry, and “Never Have I Ever” constantly forgives her.
It’s Devi’s depth – her flaws and talents and the complicated mingling of the two – that make “Never Have I Ever” a more thoughtful show than its typically carefree (or, alternately, comedically melodramatic) tone would indicate. The high school hijinks of Devi, Fabiola, Eleanor, Ben, and others are not that serious, but the intentionality and care with which Kaling crafted her one-of-a-kind hero is. In the show’s final season, Devi is messy and funny and emotional and triumphant, and “Never Have I Ever” is all of those things too. In fact, it bows out better than ever. [B+]
