‘A Man on the Inside’ Review: Comfy, Heartfelt Television

Any review of a work from television producer Michael Schur is going to include the word “warm.” A writer and producer on the outrageously popular US remake of The Office and co-creator of Parks & Recreation, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, and The Good Place, Schur has a well-earned reputation as a master of the feel-good single-camera sitcom. His latest project, based on the documentary The Mole Agent by director Maite Alberdi, stars Ted Danson as an untrained spy infiltrating a retirement community. And while this might sound like one of Schur’s kookier loglines, it’s actually his least cartoony offering. A Man on the Inside isn’t terribly funny, but it’s certainly comfy, heartfelt television.

In the year since losing his wife to Alzheimer’s, Charles (Danson) has become reclusive and aimless. When his daughter Emily (Mary Elizabeth Ellis) suggests that he take on a new hobby, Charles starts working for private detective Julie (Lilah Richcreek Estrada) as a mole at a retirement community where a valuable piece of jewelry has been stolen. Under the pretense of becoming a new resident, Charles digs into the lives of the other retirees, unwittingly breaking Julie’s first rule of undercover work: Don’t befriend the suspects.

A Man on the Inside has some superficial similarities to Hulu’s Only Murders in the Building, in that it stars a comedy icon in his 70s as an amateur sleuth embedded in a group of wealthy and eccentric characters who might be up to no good. Tonally, however, A Man on the Inside is grounded and earnest, and far less plot-driven. Within a few episodes, the series becomes less about a bumbling wannabe spy whose unearned confidence gets him into hijinx and more about a lonely man who finds much-needed purpose and companionship. The tension comes not from the low-stakes mystery but from the inevitability that Charles’ ruse will be revealed and that his new relationships will unravel.

Consequently, it’s more light drama than sitcom. The zaniest bits are the occasional jabs at the failing bodies and technological ineptitude of the retired baby boomers, but these are mostly throwaways that cut through the treacle of a compassionate look at old age. The residents of Pacific View Retirement Home have been granted a respite from work and responsibility, but also cope with the heartbreak of loss, abandonment, and the gradual degradation of their faculties. Even the most happy-go-lucky among them reflexively distance themselves from anyone enduring a steep cognitive decline, unwilling to look this terrifying reminder of their own possible future in the eye.

“I miss my old personality,” says one member of Pacific View’s memory ward during a moment of cogency. She says it casually, the way someone might reminisce about a piece of furniture that couldn’t be moved out of their last apartment. More than any of the season’s punchlines, these are the sort of moments that stand out.

Pacific View is packed with characters you want to laugh with, not at, beginning with Danson’s Charles. A far cry from his famous “man’s man” Sam Malone on Cheers, Charles is a sweet intellectual who always seems surprised when people find him charming. Likewise, Stephanie Beatriz goes against her familiar cool, deadpan persona as Pacific View’s director, who is unceasingly pleasant despite the crushing exhaustion of her work. Sally Struthers and Margaret Avery play vivacious besties who are the life of every social event and source and subject of all the best gossip. Most lovable of all is Stephen McKinley Henderson, who plays the same sort of compelling everyday guy you’d see him embody in any stage or screen drama. These are people you’d want to know—maybe you even do, but ironically have chosen to stow them away in a facility where you don’t have to see or think about them.

So full and lively is the world of Pacific View that any characters outside of it feel unnecessary. The audience is privy to some of the more goofy family sitcom happenings at the home of Charles’ daughter Emily, where she and her husband (Eugene Cordero) attempt to wrangle three online-addicted boys who essentially act as a unit. Their subplots add little and are symptomatic of the disorder faced by so many streaming-era series: the feeling that this really could have been a 100-minute feature rather than a 4-hour season of television.

Never is this feeling more acute than in the first season’s final moments, which bait the hook for a second. This is not a story that calls for a sequel. The characters’ journeys feel complete, the mystery is solved, and since the mystery was never really what mattered in the first place, the idea of Charles taking on another case has little appeal. A Man on the Inside may not have the legs of a Parks & Rec, but it’s a cozy airplane novel of a show. It makes you think a little, feel a lot, and then lets you get on with your day. If you have retired parents, it may compel you to call them and say hi. If you are a retiree with kids, it may compel you to call them and give them an earful.

All eight episodes of ‘A Man on the Inside’ are streaming now on Netflix.