" It doesn't get more relatable than that. "More often than not, premises focus on someone's mounting anxiety - specifically the kind that stems from misunderstanding banal situation. Though Robinson and Kanin waterlog each skit with wonderfully crusty and classic "immature" comedy - poop jokes, "huge cum shots" and hot dogs abound - they produce salient, albeit silly, sketches about the dissolution of social norms and scenarios, parodying our ricocheting emotions and opinions incredibly well and acting as a sort of provisional panacea for an increasingly fraught society.Īdditionally, "I Think You Should Leave" pushes boundaries for its unwillingness to release "the awkward tension of any jokes instead, they get escalated until they veer into the surreal," writes Amanda Wicks for The Atlantic. Interest in "I Think You Should Leave" is not a question of high-brow versus low-brow humor, per se. A feeding frenzy of laughter nearly always ensues by the time the third or fourth skit rumbles onscreen. But I've found that viewing it in groups provokes an intensely successful domino effect. Watching alone, the show's humor may not land - it feels eerily off-kilter, making the viewer white-knuckle their way through the maze of Robinson's and Kanin's minds. It's a cringe-comedy cornucopia, overflowing with whoopee cushions, ghost tours gone wrong, sloppy steaks and Little Buff Boys. "I Think You Should Leave" is a habitual line-crosser, a virtuoso of a series that specializes in dialing up its jokes to unprecedented levels of, well, ridiculous. "F**king Street Sets! I paid $15k for this!" Armisen yells, followed by a clip of him shoving an old man wearing a bowl cut wig into a brick wall. However, it quickly becomes apparent that Armisen's character staged the video through a company called Street Sets, once the "kid" is shown be an elderly stunt double. Right after "Summer Loving" came a skit featuring a cameo from Fred Armisen, who plays a father hoping to scare his sons into behaving better by showing them a video of him walloping a random kid on the street. More than that, however, I reveled in my boyfriend's reaction to Robinson's antics - every resonant guffaw was a reminder of how profoundly effective this show was, and his happiness alone was enough to let each episode bleed into the next. The awkward, hypnotic quality of humor was doled out in perfect portioned dollops, straddling the line between wondering, "Am I really laughing at this?" and wanting to scream " Why aren't you laughing at this?!" to anyone who isn't. Watching Robinson, wrapped in a sopping rash guard and baggy swim trunks, pedal his feet furiously above the water while the rest of the contestants socialize at a luau cocktail mixer was simple, stupid, comedic gold. Tim Robinson in "I Think You Should Leave" (Courtesy of Netflix)The skit itself was, admittedly, hilarious. Now I just had to figure out how I'd gotten there. Whenever it was on, I became huffy, knitting my brows and aggressively scrolling through my camera roll or Twitter in silent protest. I certainly never imagined that a relaxing trip to France would be the backdrop for my mental pivot about "I Think You Should Leave." A year ago, I wasn't laughing at this show. Soon enough, I was chortling right alongside him. "Good," Ronnie replies before the Thor lookalike can even finish speaking, choking back bites of a burger before boomeranging back to the zip line.Ī springy feeling in my chest bubbled to a breathy snort as I watched my boyfriend throw his head back and land a primordial thump on his chest every time Robinson flung himself from the zip line into the pool. Then, another clip in which a contestant asked Ronnie how he thinks his connection with Megan is. "You never joined us at any of the group meals, and when you were reprimanded and asked to join us, you ate as fast as you could," Megan says, while Ronnie shakes his head in denial, his lips pressed in a hard line. Megan tells Ronnie she is considering ousting him from the show, saying, "I feel like you're just here for the zip line," followed by sepia-toned flashbacks of Ronnie zipping above the pool. In the skit, Robinson plays Ronnie, one of numerous contestants on a sudden-elimination dating show called "Summer Loving." Unlike the other men who are vying for a shot at love with bachelorette Megan, Ronnie has only joined the show to make overzealous and nonstop use of the zip line over the pool. The only thing my quarantine brain wants to watch right now is sketch comedy
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