What if a mysterious machine allowed you to reveal your life’s potential? What if said machine was an arcade-style machine sporting the curious name Morpho located in a small town convenience store? What if the streaming powers stretched such a concept throughout a ten-episode AppleTV+ season, with the potential for more? Such a premise acted as the connective tissue of “The Big Door Prize, “ based on a novel and a passable attempt at light comedy with semi-philosophical notions laced throughout as the residents of Deerfield contend with the machine’s appearance and what exactly the card emerging from a slot below means to each of them.
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Regarding the lynchpin Hubbard family, why does Dusty’s (Chris O’Dowd) list “Teacher/Whistler”? Why does his wife Cass’ (Gabrielle Dennis) say “Royalty”? Why does their daughter Trina’s (Djouliet Amara) card say “Liar”? The meanings of these mystery-machine-created sentiments are cryptic, meant to set up a season-long analysis that quickly pivots into sitcom tropes and a supporting cast of characters ranging from bothersome to acceptable, though not without commitment on behalf of every actor on set and complete with a cliffhanger that involved a massive surge of electricity transitioning the Morpho into an upgrade of sorts. There were questions then, and there are more questions now.
Season two picks up where the action left off, with convenience store owner Mr. Johnson (Patrick Kerr) hospitalized following this event and those who escaped unharmed curious to see what the Morpho now has in store for each. It turns out that the “next stage” of its evolutions is a low-quality Atari-esque video revealing a scene open for interpretation by its viewer, much like those all-important, always ambiguous cards. Once more, the Morpho turns up when it’s convenient to the plot, usually when “The Big Door Prize” begins to show its cracks as indistinguishable from any other dramedy of the past several decades, AppleTV+ or otherwise. That theme of questioning one’s fate and destiny could put it in the oddly specific category of a rural-set “Minority Report, “ only with slightly better stabs at humor and characters just as forgettable as they were ten episodes prior.
That’s not to say the cast isn’t invested; as mentioned, their commitment remains undeniable, and the genuine chemistry between everyone can’t be ignored, but a group of friends playing off one another with the greatest of ease isn’t exactly innovative, nor worth anticipating what might be waiting in the wings as the next episode prepares to start. There needs to be more. Hence, the Morpho and its J.J. Abrams-lite Mystery Box aura, but raising such a comparison might be generous. Could Josh Segarra’s exuberantly cringeworthy restaurant owner, Giorgio, help spike the energy when the show needs it most? He was a standout in season one and remains a standout once again, but every time one of his memorable scenes transitions away, the abrupt shift in tone can hardly be ignored.
Could the brief look at a past love interest of the kindly Mr. Johnson help add weight to his up-until-now milquetoast characterization? Sadly, this arc of his begins to fade from memory as soon as these scenes end. It’s unclear precisely what this show is trying to be, where it’s going, and perhaps the most unfortunate, what it’s trying to say. The more the questions, the more the wish to back away becomes apparent. If only there were something compelling waiting as a cushion. The routine of someone engaging with the Morpho, learning what their life might have in store, and the fallout that ensues hasn’t changed from its premiere season, not necessarily the sort of premise designed to keep its viewers hooked.
It’s a messy experience, fortunately, broken up by more much-needed humor than was seen in its preceding season, but with characters simultaneously introducing elements that do little more than overstuff the plate of curiosity than was ever remotely necessary. Dusty and Cass believe their respective Morpho-visions indicate a need for a trial separation, something the two navigate with a degree of awkward humor and a slew of moments that somehow wind up among the season’s most compelling. Hana, Ally Maki’s uber-sarcastic bartender, may herself have a past connection to the Morpho, in addition to Kolton, the late twin brother of Jacob (Sammy Fourlas) and with the latter now in a relationship with Kolton‘s ex Trina. Crystal R. Fox returns as Izzy, Cass’ arrogant mother, while Justine Lupe moves from “Succession” to Deerfield as a teacher crushing on Dusty; while neither actress mishandles their roles in any way, both are further examples of characters easily forgotten as their scenes transition to whatever may be on deck, usually another vague Morpho MacGuffin such as the peculiar blue dots appearing on the skin of several townsfolk or a theremin that might work in tandem with the machine in some unexplained fashion.
Though two different shows, to see shades of “Lost” every time someone utters another Morpho-related quirk actually makes sense. Still, unless showrunner David West Read has an ace up his sleeve ready to materialize before it’s too late, it’s hard to say if anything remains worthy of a further investment of time into the micro-universe of Deerfield and its electronic gypsy. You’d be forgiven if wondering what’s in store lasts mere seconds before switching over to any of AppleTV+’s alternative offerings, but even if it may be hard to see, there remains a shred of potential. While far from the prize those onscreen hoped they’d find in the corners of a forgotten convenience store, it’s at least enough to stick around town, even if for only slightly longer. [C]
