Shrinking: Season 3 - Review 

Rating: 4.5 out of 5

BILL Lawrence, co-creator of Apple’s hit series Shrinking, has described the first three seasons as something of a trilogy in the way that they deal, respectively, with grief, forgiveness and moving forward.

Hence, the show was initially always pitched as a three season plan, which is why the concluding episode of that third season, called And That’s Our Time, felt so much like a final episode.

Taken on those terms, it was also a brilliant way to bow out; the story arcs of virtually every character reaching a satisfying and sensible conclusion that felt right for each of them. It was near perfect.

Of course, we now know Shrinking will return for at least a fourth season, and possibly a fifth and sixth. It will time jump (possibly by four years). And it will mark the start of a new phase in each character’s lives. It will respect the past without needing to provide a re-run.

Given the near-perfect arc of the first three seasons, it could be argued that this is a ballsy move. The best shows quit while they’re on top.

But then that’s also to deny ourselves the joy of being around these characters; or to doubt Lawrence and fellow co-creator Brett Goldstein with not being able to recapture the magic.

Season three was, perhaps, peak Shrinking. It stress tested the characters in new ways, as they sought to move forward.

For Harrison Ford’s Paul, this meant a further deterioration in his Parkinson’s and the dreadful realisation that retirement was looming. Shrinking’s depiction of Parkinson’s has long been praised for its authenticity: little wonder, given that it is born out of the lived experience of both Goldstein’s father and Lawrence’s relatives.

Hence, the depiction of it shows how it informs and challenges day to day living. It’s not gimmicky or laboured for dramatic effect.

Paul’s reactions to it feel genuine. They inform him. The condition itself occasionally debilitate him (as chronic illness does) but doesn’t always define him. He remains a respected and brilliant psychiatrist in his own right, which makes his impairments all the more tragic.

His descent into having visions is particularly scary in this season, yet it raises awareness of Parkinson’s beyond the obvious tremors. It enlightens and informs. Little wonder, then, that Michael J Fox agreed to recur as a guest star and made such an impression.

Ford, meanwhile, remains the show’s biggest draw. His sardonic put downs and egotistical wise cracks remain top drawer and it looks as though Ford is really enjoying the role. Yet, away from the comedy, there’s real heart too: as evidenced by his speech at the end of season two and the way he finally embraced his paternal feelings towards Jason Segel’s Jimmy - another season finale delivering yet another opportunity for Ford to tug at the heart-strings successfully.

Jimmy, himself, had a strong season - one marked by his daughter’s impending departure for college and a new life without her. He embarked upon a tentative relationship with Cobie Smulders’ Sofi, but met with predictable bumps in the road, and he attempted to hold himself together while all around him seemed better equipped to move forward.

Like Ford, Segel walked a nice line between tragic and comedic. He’s never as cool as Ford but he endears even when frustrating and his fallibility and vulnerability makes him rounded and human.

Of note, too, was Jessica Williams’ Gabby, thrown her own curveball following the suicide of a patient - again, an interesting direction for the show to take and sensitively handled, while giving Williams plenty to do (shaking off some of her confidence and exuberance, in exchange for something altogether more hurt and uncertain).

In a big ensemble, the big three continued to be the standouts. But everyone got a moment or three to shine, with the likes of Ted McGinley, as Derek, and Luke Tennie, as Sean, also completing strong arcs, either by way of completing journeys or being given more dramatic heavy lifting to do. While incoming stars such as Jeff Daniels, as Jimmy's selfish dad, also registered strongly.

Given the size of the ensemble, therefore, it’s a testament to the sustained brilliance of the writing that the series, and the finale in particular, was able to wrap things up so well for just about everyone, mixing feel-good comedy with moments that were genuinely poignant and heartfelt.

There are still moments that threaten to grate, of course, while certain characters flirt with being more annoying than endearing (step forward Christa Miller’s self-absorbed Liz and Michael Urie’s similarly self-centred Brian). But for any moment that doesn’t work, or character who fails, there’s always something redemptive waiting in the wings.

Shrinking’s greatest asset is its ability to feel positive and uplifting, even in the face of life’s harshest challenges. In a time of anger and anxiety, it’s a show that is prepared to offer hope and humour while acknowledging and embracing the hardship that surrounds us all.

Season four remains a welcome prospect.

See also: Shrinking (Season 1) - Review l Season 2 review