I envision Tim Robinson's characters as inhabitants of a spectrum, where they all exhibit sudden, explosive outbursts of cartoonish rage or pain, and they're nearly all anxious, insecure oddities obsessed with proving their inclusion in the joke. Yet, there's a stark contrast between the affable "chaotic good" Tim Cramblin from Detroiters and the parade of freaks Robinson portrays on his sketch show, I Think You Should Leave. Craig Waterman, the marketing executive from the 2024 film Friendship, ventures into new territories with a darker and more pathetic take on this neurotic type.
If Friendship was Robinson's inaugural character study, his enigmatic new HBO comedy The Chair Company is the logical progression. Like Craig Waterman, Ron Trosper is a diligent worker and family man, striving to project confidence and competence at both the office and home. But unlike Craig, he's not initially that bad at it. For the most part, people seem to respect Ron. He enjoys the adoration of his wife, Barb (Lake Bell), daughter, Natalie (Sophia Lillis), and son, Seth (Will Price). As a project lead at Fisher Robay, overseeing an ambitious new mall development in Canton, Ohio, he seems to have the office's support. However, after a surprisingly successful speech at the kickoff meeting for Canton Marketplace, everything takes a turn for the worse. When Ron takes a seat, the chair gives way, leaving him dazed and sprawled on the floor. This public humiliation becomes The Chair Company's inciting incident.
Friendship serves as the obvious comparison point for the show, especially with Andrew DeYoung directing this premiere and Keegan DeWitt contributing a cool, slightly eerie score once again. But it's also the third series co-created by Robinson and Zach Kanin, who collaborated on both Detroiters and I Think You Should Leave. There's a common comic sensibility running through all these projects, an understanding of what people come to a Tim Robinson show to see. Take that argument between Ron and the young server in the opening scene. A celebratory family dinner turns into an embarrassing dispute when Ron bristles at the server's assertion that she hasn't been to a mall since she was 14. He takes it as a personal offense, a common impulse for Ron—he's also not a fan of his cheerful elderly coworker Douglas (Jim Downey) blowing bubbles everywhere because "life's just really not all that serious."
Like most Robinson characters, Ron deeply cares about fitting in, fearing attention as much as he courts it. The day after the chair incident, he defuses tension at the office by making fun of himself, only to feel uncomfortable as his coworkers revel in the hilarity of the moment. So he dives down the Tecca rabbit hole, desperate to take action against the titular chair company.
In the realm of "Life Goes By Too F**king Fast, It Really Does," the narrative shifts into a surreal conspiracy thriller that promises to leave a lasting impression. The futile attempt to reach the manufacturer through Tecca's website's phone number, which only connects to National Business Solutions with no resolution, sets the tone. The interaction with a customer service agent yields no fruitful outcome, and the support email address bounces back a cryptic message. "What the fuck?!" Ron exclaims, a comically befuddled expression that sums up the frustration.
The premiere primarily revolves around Ron's investigation into Tecca, but it's already intriguing to observe what the show chooses to emphasize and de-emphasize. The Trosper family, as a whole, is understated; their roles are intentionally archetypal, blandly representing the conventional fantasy of a loving, stable nuclear family. We learn that Seth is considering colleges, and Ron continues to add photos and songs to Natalie's rehearsal dinner slideshow, but that's about it. The episode prioritizes strange narrative detours over conventional character development, and for now, I embrace this choice.
Take, for instance, the hilarious, unnamed janitor character who makes two appearances: first, vehemently denying that his "inside wheelbarrow" goes outside, only to be seen later with the wheelbarrow outside. Or consider Ron's coworker Amanda, who understands that he didn't intentionally look up her skirt while she was collapsed on the floor but still feels compelled to report it to HR. The work environment suddenly seems to be falling apart, especially with annoying Douglas blowing bubbles everywhere and distracting Doris while Ron tries to get footage documenting her hip problem and the risk of an unsafe chair. (A phone call informs him that Tecca Legal will contact him directly if there's proof someone could get hurt.)
The premiere reaches a chilling crescendo with Ron's visit to the fenced-off building at the old Tecca address in Newark, Ohio. He discovers strange nudes in a printer and what appears to be...a giant inflated red ball? Just when an old deviled egg sends him into a panicked run to the restroom, he hears footsteps and a long scream. It feels like a scene out of Beau Is Afraid. He's forced to flee before he can even properly wipe himself.
Back at work, Ron meets with Brenda, an exec, and the head of legal for the Canton development. Apparently, teenagers were drinking at the site last night and one of them almost died. Moreover, a teacher was present, and he was shirtless—adding another layer of mystery to the already surreal situation.
It's a peculiar and under-explored scenario, but the incident is enough to get Ron to re-engage with his job and set Tecca aside...for a few moments. As he leaves for the night, a man swiftly follows him across the parking lot, ordering him to stop snooping around the chair company. The man briefly beats him with a baton before walking away. But the scene doesn't end there. When Ron regains his composure, he stands up and chases after his attacker, turning from the chased to the chaser. It's notable that Ron doesn't pick up the dropped baton to defend himself, nor does he continue the chase after the guy escapes his reach by leaving his unbuttoned shirt behind. He simply stops.
At this stage, it's impossible to predict what this all will add up to in the long run. (It reminds me a lot of Nathan Fielder's underrated series The Curse in that way, and in others.) But so far, The Chair Company is as funny, strange, and watchable as I had hoped—it's different from anything else Tim Robinson has done, but also unmistakably a Tim Robinson project. I don't know what any of this is, and I'm fucking scared.
