Great Movies
It’s astonishing to realize that HBO’s hit sitcom “Curb Your Enthusiasm” has been on the air for a solid twenty-five years. That’s a quarter decade of star/creator Larry David ambling about life in LA as a heightened version of himself, bumbling his way into one farcical situation after another—most of them of his own making. But after twelve seasons of heavily improvised antics, the now 76-year-old David is hanging up his hat for good, grousing his way into the California sunset. And what a batch of misadventures to go out on.
Ending “Curb” is a fitting challenge for man who’s already struggled to cap off one legendary sitcom—characters frequently rib him with references to “Seinfeld”’s shaky final two seasons, and ask, “But you came back for the finale, right?” But David and co-creator Jeff Schaffer are largely content to keep Larry’s life spinning in circles as it always does. He’s a man of familiar patterns and self-styled rules, and heaven forbid anyone violate them or accuse him of violating theirs.
“I can be cordial,” he reassures Jeff (Jeff Garlin) after being paid to appear at a birthday party for a rich client in Atlanta (Sharlto Copley). We’re loathe to spoil how his trip to The Peach State ultimately goes but suffice it to say getting his appearance fee becomes an uphill battle—and inadvertently kicks off a season-long arc that sees Larry become a political cause celebre.
Meanwhile, Larry’s still stuck with neurotic city councilwoman (and recovering alcoholic) Irmo Kostroski (Tracey Ullman), waiting out an arbitrary six-month dating period given to him by her sponsor. Break up earlier, he threatens the fragile woman’s grasp on her sobriety. But on the other hand, she just won’t stop belting the J.G. Wentworth jingle (it’s playing in your head as you read this now; you’re welcome. 877-CASH-NOW). Larry’s personal and professional lives have never been more precarious, which makes his inability to rein in his curmudgeonly impulses all the funnier.
Of course, the show’s ten-episode bow (we’ve seen all but the finale) gives Larry plenty of rakes to step on. He bristles at an acquaintance’s insistence that he call her “Brooke,” when everyone else gets to call her “Brookie”—even those who have little more familiarity with her than she does. He dodges accusations of writing a poison pen letter to his country club and shakes down a renovated temple after someone donates a brick saying he’s disrespectful to women. (His answer there? Hit up his ex-wife Cheryl (Cheryl Hines) to donate a brick that says something nice instead.)
All of these run-ins with the sane and insane alike feel part and parcel of “Curb”’s refreshingly cynical take on the world, one where the everyday codes of American social life bump headlong into one man’s craven desire for what he wants, damn the consequences. Larry’s always torn between what he’s supposed to do and what he wants to do, and his innate lack of filter always lands him in the most delicious trouble. In this final season, it really feels like the walls are closing in on Larry, where a lifetime of chickens are coming home to roost. “I have bad energy,” he admits to Copley during a corporate-office truth and reconciliation commission about Larry’s appearance fee at his party; it’s an admission of truth, and an acknowledgement that it’s too late for him to change.
The show’s brief nods to serialization thankfully don’t dull the series’ pitch-perfect comic edges, though admittedly the more “cinematic” approach the show has taken over the last few years—HD cameras, more slickly-edited and shot sequences—has softened the show’s improv-heavy spontaneity a bit. You don’t feel as much of a fly on the wall while Larry et al. riff their way through hastily sketched scenes; it’s still there, just a bit less immediate.
There are moments where David’s subversive humor shows its age, too, from hacky jokes about kids these days identifying as cats to pitting Larry against a series of Asian characters with thick accents speaking pidgin English (that he’s all too eager to emulate).
But these complaints, like many of Larry’s, are minor. Even up to the end, David, Schaffer, and the colorful characters who’ve spent decades in Larry’s orbit (let’s not forget Susie Essman, Richard Lewis, and Ted Danson, who all kill this season too) find new ways to drive each other crazy.
“You’re a walking f*cking virus,” one character tells Larry late in the season. But unlike COVID-19 (which Larry spends the whole of the series trying to dodge), we’ll miss Larry David’s infectious brand of humor once Luciano Michelini’s “Frolic” plays for the very last time.
Nine episodes screened for review. The final season premieres on HBO February 4.
Clint Worthington is a Chicago-based film/TV critic and podcaster. He is the founder and editor-in-chief of The Spool, as well as a Senior Staff Writer for Consequence. He is also a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and Critics Choice Association. You can also find his byline at RogerEbert.com, Vulture, The Companion, FOX Digital, and elsewhere.
