Review: ‘DMV’ leads fun sitcom into L.A.’s spookiest office

a job! It’s something that most of us have to do, some of us like to do and many of us would rather not do, and it’s no surprise that it’s the subject of so many TV shows.

Workplace comedies have been responsible for some of television’s greatest series — “Taxi,” “Barney Miller,” “News Radio,” “Parks and Recreation,” “30 Rock,” “The Office,” and obviously “Abbott Elementary,” which is at the forefront of my mind — and some of the shortest-lived. Anywhere a task gets done can theoretically support it – pick a workplace (sushi restaurant, travel agency, magic shop, museum, whatever), write a pitch, get an agent, and soon you’re a TV writer. You can place the characters later.

Well – it’s not that easy. But there is a common Mad Libs structure to such series, whether filmed in front of a live audience or in front of a single camera, which places a diverse group of individuals in a shared space. Some characters may be related; There may be a romantic attraction between the couple. Not much actual work will get done, and what gets done may not make any sense in the real world, but the office is the box that holds them and colors their lives. “The Paper,” “Animal Control,” “St. Denis Medical,” “Going Dutch,” and “Shifting Gears” are among the shows currently streaming online, and despite a slight difference in style, they have a lot in common.

Of all the offices a person could be asked to visit, the DMV has one of the worst reputations. Sure, when you’re sitting there waiting for your number to be called, you’d never think, “I’d really like to work here,” but since this is Hollywood, you probably thought, “There’s an offer in this.”

In fact, the most surprising thing about “DMV,” a single-camera non-documentary comedy series that premieres Monday on CBS, is that it took so long to arrive. It’s written by Dana Klein (and inspired by Catherine Heaney’s short story “Chicken Flavored and Lemon Scented”), a representative example of its kind, not bad, not exceptional, and a platform for some good actors to do their work. Its perfect mediocrity makes it easy to dismiss, but it’s an enjoyable, painless half-hour, with a few sincere laughs. Like every such show, it is expected to mature with age, if age comes.

Harriet Dyer plays Colette, the sweet, awkward, nominally main character of the troupe. She is a driving examiner, and has the nickname “EZ Pass,” because she never turns away an applicant. She has a crush at first sight on new employee Noah (Alex Tarrant), a charming, cheerful hunk from Down Under. Manager Barbara (Molly Kearney) loves her job “and everyone who works here”; Vic (Tony Cavalero) is an inexplicable, intense, over-the-top serial eccentric; Sissy (Gigi Zumbado) is the staff photographer, who in mind is shooting for Vogue magazine. Finally, there’s Tim Meadows, who plays Greg, whose highlight of every show he’s been in is found to be patent. As an actor and character — jaded, cynical, complacent — he’s the show’s sane old pro, who will instruct Noah in the art of taking a cigarette break without a cigarette.

The positions are classic. Cost-cutting consultants arrive to interview employees (“I asked for leave because my mother died, but it was denied, and that happened twice,” says Vick) and decide whether the branch will continue. (There are four branches of Hollywood in this alternate universe – as if). Colette gives Noah, who needs a US license, his driving test, which is terrible. It is a very hot day and none of the staff are allowed to touch the air conditioner. In a different situation that has probably appeared in two out of every three sitcoms ever produced, an old friend of Colette, now a TV star, appears in the branch; Colette tells elaborate lies about following her dream of becoming a vet, as well as “helping” her wig-wearing husband. Naturally, the dog will get sick. There will be pranks.

“What we do here makes a difference,” Barbara told the consultants in an inspiring speech, noting that the DMV is not meant to discredit the organization or the people who work there. No matter how bored the person helping you at the window looks, or if they are unwilling to say hello to you, the person standing in line before you may be an idiot. Remember that when your license expires.