‘The Chair Company’ review: Tim Robinson, the tough hero

“The Chair Company,” which premieres Sunday on HBO, is a conspiracy comedy — a dark comedy, one should certainly say — in which Tim Robinson goes down a rabbit hole, from carrot to carrot, after a chair collapses beneath him. It’s an exciting story in its way. There will be suspense, injuries, and a lot of screaming, mostly by the star.

Robinson, who co-created the series with Zach Kanin (who also co-created Robinson’s Netflix show, “I Think You Should Leave”), is a difficult protagonist. His main style of humor is that of the madman who exists beneath the cracked veneer of civilization; Physically, he exhibits a kind of strange normality, like a critique of the natural. From the beginning of “The Chair Company,” we see that Robinson’s Ron Trosper is stressed, nervous, and can’t relax, getting into an argument with a waitress about what is and isn’t a mall – and he’s been hired to lead the development of a new mall in Canton, Ohio. (All events take place in the state.)

The presentation he’d been dreading went well, but when he sat down again, his chair—a standard office model—collapsed beneath him, robbing him of his moment of triumph. What most people would call a joke puts Ron on edge, and he begins an obsessive quest to track down the manufacturer. But all he finds are dead ends and empty offices, and he begins to suspect a conspiracy. When he got into his car, he was hit on the head with a pipe and told to stop asking about the chair, which only made him more determined to reveal it. Infiltration, sneaking, and theft will ensue. Reckless behavior. Screaming.

Besides some standard office comedy involving HR reports and “I know it when I see it” boss Ron (Lou Diamond Phillips, aging gracefully), there’s a family element. Wife Barb (Lake Bell) moves forward with her plans to develop a more attractive breast pump. Daughter Natalie (Sophia Lillis) is getting married to her friend, and wants to change the setting at the last minute to a haunted house. Son Seth (Will Price), a basketball player who seems to have enough talent to mention it in the series, discovers the joys of drinking when recruiters show up. It’s not a cutting-edge topic, but it gives Price the opportunity to deliver my favorite line in the series: “Some nights, I’ll have like four beers and sit in my room and put on an Abbott and Costello after I’ve had a couple; it makes me feel good to know that [these] Two men have found each other because they both look completely different. It is the subject of the presentation.

The character who makes the series breathe is Mike Santini (Joseph Todesco), the guy holding the pipe. Ron will track him down, and eventually they will become partners in his investigation, and friends in a way. (Though Ron’s not always friendly.) Mike is the show’s most original concept and, in a strange way, its heart — someone who’s not beyond taking money from a stranger to hit another stranger over the head, but who is sympathetic. Alone, he craves connection. Ron, for his part, is forever running out of his family to join Mike on some adventures.

Robinson, the rare “Saturday Night Live” cast member turned performer-turned-writer, is so adept at playing the character that he makes Ron exhausting company; It takes a certain kind of stamina, or a love of this kind of chaos, to endure it. It sometimes seems unbelievable that he helped successfully raise two rational children, one of them to adulthood; achieved an upper-middle-class life (with Lake Bell!); He holds the position of creative responsibility. There are comedic characters who are difficult and yet a joy to watch – Larry David, because he’s so focused on his world and basically right, and Lucille Ball because she’s a genius. But Ron spends so much time at DEFCON 1, he’s reached beyond 11, which can be disgusting, drowning the human inside him.

However, like any mystery, it draws you in, waiting for answers. Seven of the eight episodes have been released to reviewers. The seventh ends with what sounds like a note of quiet hesitation – if not satisfaction in Ron’s mind. But eight o’clock certainly won’t let things calm down, and you can rest assured – and you may need to rest – that eight is not the end.