Tim Robinson is much like cilantro in comedy: His unique onscreen character — a vibrant, physical manifestation of social awkwardness — tends to either deeply resonate or be utterly off-putting. Historically, I’ve found myself in the latter camp, yet I can’t help but respect how he has cultivated a dedicated fanbase while remaining true to himself, despite the divisive nature of his content.
Robinson’s career took an unconventional route when he spent just one season as a featured performer on “Saturday Night Live” before moving to the writing team, a path that’s quite rare for that famed show. During his time there, the Midwest native connected with his future creative collaborator Zach Kanin. Along with Joe Kelly and his co-star Sam Richardson, they brought to life “Detroiters,” a series that showcased the kinder, more whimsical side of Robinson’s youthful spirit. His comedic style favors physical expressions over meticulously crafted punchlines, which adds a raw edge to his performances. However, it was the Netflix sketch series “I Think You Should Leave” that truly encapsulated the essence of Robinson’s work: a lineup of deeply sincere but socially awkward characters delivering absurd yet memorable lines like “I don’t know what any of this shit is, and I’m scared!” Robinson’s commanding and distinctive presence led to this year’s A24 film “Friendship,” which, despite being helmed by Andrew DeYoung, was rightly regarded as a Tim Robinson Movie, capitalized for emphasis.
Robinson has reunited with Kanin and DeYoung for “The Chair Company,” a thirty-minute comedy marking Robinson’s formal entry into HBO’s cadre of creative visionaries. Kanin serves as Robinson’s co-creator, with DeYoung executive producing and sharing directing responsibilities alongside Aaron Schimberg, known for last year’s outstanding “A Different Man.” Robinson’s closest counterpart at HBO is Nathan Fielder, another skilled navigator of cringe comedy. “The Chair Company” stands as Robinson’s equivalent to Fielder’s “The Rehearsal”: an opportunity to expand a well-honed vision across a much broader platform. Similar to “The Rehearsal,” it may not attract new fans to Robinson’s brand of humor, but loyal followers will eagerly compensate for that.
The storyline of “The Chair Company” is deliberately sparse and secondary to the experience. Robinson plays Ron Trosper, an everyday family man who faces an embarrassing incident involving an office chair at his job in a mall development firm. (HBO has requested that I keep the specifics of this encounter private, stripping away even more details from the already concise narrative.) Following this public humiliation, Ron spirals into a conspiracy theorist mindset, engaging in an amateur probe into the chair’s manufacturer, dubbed Tecca. Robinson and Kanin are adept at creating absurdly banal yet somehow striking character names, with “The Chair Company” overflowing with such gems: Bahld Harmon. Greg Braccon. Oliver Probblo. You’ll find yourself repeating these names like mantras.
What sets “The Chair Company” apart from Robinson’s previous works is its ability to sustain narrative momentum over eight episodes, thanks to the inclusion of various eccentric characters who share Ron’s peculiar outlook. Historically, Robinson’s formats typically pit a singular oddball — not necessarily himself; think of Vanessa Bayer — against a backdrop of straight characters. However, in “The Chair Company,” Ron finds himself confronted by an array of quirky individuals: a shirt salesman using a basketball to illustrate belly strain on buttons; a man sporting a cryptic dent in his head; a colleague fixated on the notion that there’s metal embedded within him. This universe vibrates on Robinson’s distinct wavelength, perhaps validating Ron’s peculiar beliefs.
Nevertheless, Robinson continues to set the comedic tone. His expressions of silent frustration and bewilderment, along with his inventive phrases like “grab-ass parlor,” reflect back onto Ron’s character. Robinson’s unpredictable delivery transforms standard dialogue such as “That’s. REALLY. Bizarre.” into something unsettling, complemented by co-stars like Alberto Isaac, a “I Think You Should Leave” veteran who seamlessly aligns with the Robinson-Kanin rhythm. With the exception of Lou Diamond Phillips portraying Ron’s boss, “The Chair Company” mostly features lesser-known actors, enhancing the immersive experience. To many viewers, Ruben Rabasa is synonymous with the steering wheel guy, a role effectively mirrored throughout the series. Isaac’s character Oliver energetically proclaims, “This is a COKE BAR!” and later adds, “Everyone here is a COKE HEAD!” The delivery is more impactful than context itself, making Ron’s family members — wife Barb (Lake Bell), daughter Natalie (Sophia Lillis) and son Seth (Will Price) — appear oddly out of place.
While invoking the name of the late David Lynch may be a trite comparison, his influence is apparent in how “The Chair Company” reveals the darker layers hidden within mundane settings like fluorescent-lit offices or suburban homes. In a media landscape filled with discourses about men experiencing crises, Robinson portrays characters who descend into nonsensical babble while trying to navigate modern life’s unspoken rules. It’s suggested that Ron is on a quest for meaning, grappling with feelings of inadequacy as Barb’s small business flourishes. She is working to secure funding for a revamped breast pump, while Ron’s venture with his off-road Jeep touring company has floundered. In “The Chair Company,” he and Kanin have populated this fictional world with variations of this archetype. It doesn’t offer the most laid-back viewing experience, but if you’re seeking solace in Tim Robinson’s comedic style, you’ve likely chosen the wrong show.
“The Chair Company” will debut on HBO and HBO Max on Oct. 12 at 10 p.m. ET, with new episodes arriving weekly on Sundays.
