Editor’s note: Caught — quite by accident — some re-run episodes of this new series last night.
The New York Times reviewer didn’t think much of it, but I got a real kick out of the new Canadian sitcom series, Schitt’s Creek, yesterday evening. Maybe it’s because I’d watch Catherine O’Hara and Eugene Levy, paired once again, in almost anything they did. O’Hara is well known from her past film roles as the ditzy and clueless bad-sculptor and mother/wife in Beetlejuice and the distracted, my-god-what-have-we-done wife/mother in the Home Alone series. O’Hara paired with Levy memorably in the faux, folksinging duo in A Mighty Wind and the married dog lovers (she, with the colorful erotic past) in Best In Show. Or maybe I liked the show because the Creek‘s storyline broadly echoed the experience Maggie, Alexis, and I shared when we moved from Berkeley to Wallace in the late ’90s. The O’Hara-Levy couple even has a daughter named Alexis — who’s character, I add, bears little resemblance to my Alexis. I don’t know, maybe the Times’ reviewer was right and the whole enterprise was a little tired and threadbare. It didn’t matter to me. I couldn’t take my smiling eyes off O’Hara and Levy when they were on the screen and more or less dealing with their family’s new, do-we-have-to-live-here? circumstances.