Few Watched One of the Best Sitcoms of the Decade. Its Moment Has Finally Arrived. (2024)

Tim Robinson’s ascent to the highest echelons of comedy stardom is one of the more unexpected and gratifying cultural developments of recent years. Robinson’s Netflix seriesI Think You Should Leave premieredin 2019and became an out-of-left-field, meme-generating smash hit, arguably the most innovative and influential sketch show sinceChappelle’s Shownearly two decades earlier. From its very beginnings—hell, even from its title—I Think You Should Leavearrived as a fully formed and unapologetically bizarre work of art, one that somehow gained a massive audience while never compromising on its insistence that said audience meet it on its own terms. The show’s success changed the shape and possibilities of contemporary comedy in small but meaningful ways, while making Robinson into an unlikely andreluctantcelebrity who may soon be expanding past television altogether. (Robinson stars alongside Paul Rudd in the much-anticipatedFriendship, whichopened to ravesat last month’s Toronto International Film Festival and was acquired by A24 shortly thereafter.)

Less well known is that before the success ofI Think You Should Leave,Robinson was also partially responsible for one of the best sitcoms of the past decade, the little-watched but ebulliently brilliantDetroiters, which ran for two seasons in 2017 and 2018 before being unceremoniously canceled by Comedy Central. Robinson co-createdDetroiterswith co-star Sam Richardson, as well as Joe Kelly and Zach Kanin. (Kanin also co-createdI Think You Should Leave.) Netflix recently announced that it had acquired the rights toDetroitersand will add the show’s 20-episode run to its platform on Tuesday. After years of being frustratingly difficult to stream (the series has recently been offered on Paramount+, but before that, availability was touch-and-go), the show feels ripe for a rediscovery among Robinson’s now huge fan base. (Update, 6:30 PM: In a confusing development,Detroitershas not appeared on Netflix on Oct. 15 as previously scheduled, and Uproxxconfirmedthat it would not, in fact, be available that day. No reason has yet been given for this sudden change.)

In contrast to the delirious specificity of many ofI Think You Should Leave’s most beloved sketches, the premise ofDetroitersis bluntly simple. Robinson and Richardson star as Tim Cramblin and Sam Duvet, respectively, best friends who run a small Detroit-based advertising agency called Cramblin Duvet Advertising. The agency is small because the two men are ludicrously bad at their job; the only reason they are in the business in the first place is that they inherited the company from Tim’s father, “Big Hank” Cramblin, a legendary adman who, we’re frequently reminded, went insane. Rounding out the office are the octogenarian sexpot secretary Sheila, a rotund employee of ambiguous responsibilities named Tommy Pencils, and intern Lea, the only person at Cramblin Duvet who’s remotely competent. Most episodes revolve around Tim and Sam crafting a pitch for a prospective client, which range from the enormous (Chrysler; Little Caesars) to the hilariously bespoke (a nightclub for children; a clothing store for “husky boys”).

On a conceptual level,Detroitersdoesn’t exactly break new ground, but the show’s great achievement is its tone, which somehow weds the surrealist derangement ofI Think You Should Leaveto an unmistakable and completely authentic warmth and sincerity. In classic sitcom fashion, each episode ends with a positive resolution, its protagonists having solved a problem or learned a lesson, even if they will start the next episode just as inept as they were before. (Indeed, the run of Detroiters features no real overarching narrative; the episodes feel deliberately designed to be able to be watched out of order.) At times the show recalls another Comedy Central masterpiece of an earlier era,Strangers With Candy, but while that series was a send-up of the “inspirational” sitcom by a group of comics who were (rightly) scornful of the genre,Detroitersis drenched in real affection for the traditional sitcom as a form. At its core it’s an unhinged but irrepressibly amiable hangout show,Cheersif the beer came with a hit of acid.

Much of this springs from the interplay of Robinson and Richardson, real-life best friends who on the show are pathologically devoted to each other. (The two live next door to each other; Tim is married to Sam’s sister Chrissy; at one point Timdeclaresthat he and Sam will “die at the same exact time, even if we’re miles apart—our hearts will just know.”) If Tim is an awkward guy who’s frantically aware of his own awkwardness, Sam is an awkward guy who’s entirely comfortable in his own skin, a quality that gives the character his own weird brand of endearing magnetism. Richardson is one of the most likable performers in contemporary comedy, first rising to prominence with his amazing turn as dweebish doormat Richard Splett onVeep. If the series’ humor is shot through with Robinson’s antic surrealism, it’s Richardson’s deeply sweet and sincere performance that allowsDetroitersto accomplish its remarkable tonal balancing act.

The show’s structure also means that each episode features a generous helping of guest stars, as new and unforgettably weird characters make their way into and out of Tim and Sam’s orbit. Robinson and Kanin met while working onSaturday Night Livetogether in the mid-2010s, and numerous veterans of that show appear here, including Cecily Strong as “mom lawyer” Roz Chunks and Jason Sudeikis in straight-man mode as Chrysler executive Carter Grant. (Sudeikis also served as an executive producer on the show, along withSNLboss Lorne Michaels.) George Wallace delivers a phenomenal performance as R&B singer Freddie “Motown” Brown, and frequent Robinson collaborator Conner O’Malley (an ascendant weird-comedy star in his own right) killsas Tim’s ne’er-do-well brother Trevor. Best of all might be the great Tim Meadows, who steals the first episode of the second season as inept attorney Walt Worsch.

The most delightful aspect ofDetroitersis the show’s uncontainable love for its titular city. I have never lived in Detroit, but each episode ofDetroitersleft me feeling as if I’d learned something new and special about the city, like being let in on a secret. The show was shot mostly on location and delights in the casting of local-legend guest stars. Longtime Motor City news anchor Mort Crim frequently appears as an off-kilter version of himself, while Detroit Pistons great Rick Mahorn guest stars in the Season 1 finale, turning in a shockingly game performance. Rapper Danny Brown makes a hilarious turn as weight-loss maven Dr. Mayflower, and (now former) University of Michigan coach Jim Harbaugh even gets in on the action. And there’s a treasure trove of even more loving and insider-y references: To choose just one example, an episode about an indelible grocery-store jingle prompted me to seek out itsreal-life inspiration, which I can now confidently say is the greatest commercial jingle I have ever heard.

AfterDetroiterswas canceled in 2018, there were hopes among its small but devoted fandom that another network might pick it up and resuscitate it. (Seth Meyers evenwrote a guest columnforVultureopenly pleading for this.) With the news that Netflix had acquired the show came a renewal of the dream that maybe someday Tim Cramblin and Sam Duvet might ride again, even if Tim Robinson’s and Sam Richardson’s lives are undoubtedly busier now than they were six years ago. (Richardson recently starred in the Apple+ seriesThe Afterparty and just last year won an Emmy for his guest-star work onTed Lasso.) I’ll certainly hope for that as well, but for now the show’s 20 episodes stand as a fitting tribute to the vision of the city that its creators love so much: scrappy, inspiring, under-loved, perfect.