Review: Schitt’s Creek Strikes a Balance Between Revision and Reformation

Even as it becomes increasingly uncool to be rich, we remain obsessed with stories about the wealthy. In film and television, the rich are often depicted as woefully cruel and bafflingly incompetent, as in HBO’s Succession. Part of the appeal of that series is watching the central family squirm; we marvel at their unbelievable monstrosity while simultaneously reveling in their pathetic debauchery. By contrast, the less mocking Schitt’s Creek strikes a more careful balance in its depiction of the once-rich family at its center.

The Rose family, led by Johnny (Eugene Levy) and Moira (Catherine O’Hara), lost their fortune when they were defrauded by their business manager. Years earlier, they bought the small town of Schitt’s Creek as a joke for their son, David (Daniel Levy), and now it’s their only remaining asset. Since settling there, they’ve ever so slowly acclimated to the townsfolk and their new, downtrodden lives. Though it’s chided the Roses for their haughty attitudes and fish-out-of-water cluelessness across its five seasons, Schitt’s Creek has slowly worked to humanize these characters and depict their redemptive arcs as moral citizens.

The series is, of course, a comedy, and a gloriously deadpan one at that. Levy and O’Hara, who have a long history together as performers, are the comedic force at the center of it all, with Levy’s bizarro-world straight man the ideal foil to O’Hara’s attention-seeking spectacle. While their characters have had moments of growth, though, the majority of that work has been handled by their children, David and Alexis (Annie Murphy), both of whom grew up with parents who were rarely present, with the emotional stuntedness and scars to show for it.

Last season, David and local resident Patrick (Noah Reid) made their romantic relationship official, and the show’s fifth season sees them settled into a relatively comfortable normalcy as a couple; the way their queer romance is so easily accepted by the denizens of the rural Schitt’s Creek is the source for so much of the show’s open-heartedness. Scenes of the couple running a store together reflect David’s independent resourcefulness while also hinting at a capitalistic whim within him; his arc is largely beholden to his success with the store (which is closely aligned with his partnership with Patrick), suggesting that his redemption, such as it is, remains stuck in what he knows as “success.” In recent episodes, however, the messages are focused on the fulfillment David finds in that relationship, as he shows real maturity in his understanding of Patrick’s expectations and needs.

Moreover, that outline of fulfillment is paralleled through David and Alexis’s ongoing work to reckon with their parents and the lives their family used to lead. Some of the humor is, naturally, about how disconnected the Roses are from the “real world,” with the residents of Schitt’s Creek, especially Stevie (Emily Hampshire), left to roll their eyes or look at the Roses with bewilderment. David and Alexis have always been close due to their parents’ neglect, and it’s only now that they’re able to actually find out who Johnny and Moira really are.

So as to let new match-ups and supporting characters flourish, this season of Schitt’s Creek inevitably leans less on interactions between the Rose family members, but there’s still pathos to be mined in an episode like “Housewarming,” in which Johnny and Moira take care of a friend’s baby, while noting that David and Alexis’s nursery used to be in a separate wing of their mansion. The episode doesn’t make much of this, but it’s easy to understand David’s selfishness or Alexis’s insecurity as extensions of their childhoods, and Johnny and Moira seem determined to right those wrongs, however imperfectly.

None of this growth feels easy. Schitt’s Creek is technically a sitcom, which is traditionally code for stasis: How much can change if the core dynamics of the series that viewers love can’t really evolve? Schitt’s Creek undercuts that convention by giving us an honest representation of a once-wealthy family coming to terms with their new lifestyles, which develops through incremental revelations and moments of revision and reformation. Often, it’s one step forward and two steps back, particularly for Moira, who’s the source of much comic relief on the series but also seems to have the hardest time moving on from their past. She’s still prone to making an offhand remark about the family returning to its former glory, punctuated with an acknowledgement that money isn’t everything. Schitt’s Creek somehow manages to make this steady flow of transformations feel organic but also endearing.