Netflix has drafted quite the team for Running Point, its new comedy set in the front office of a basketball franchise that is not the Los Angeles Lakers, but not not the Los Angeles Lakers.
There’s Kate Hudson, beaming from the center of an ensemble comprised of actors you’ve liked in other things: Drew Tarver from The Other Two, Max Greenfield from New Girl, Jay Ellis from Insecure, etc. Behind the scenes is hitmaker Mindy Kaling, along with Modern Family and Only Murders in the Building alum Elaine Ko. James Ponsoldt (Shrinking) directed the first two episodes. If this isn’t precisely the scripted-TV equivalent of the 1996 Dream Team, it’s at least … well, honestly, that’s about the limit of my basketball knowledge, so insert whatever very good team you like here.
Running Point
The Bottom Line
Not a total loss, but not a clear victory either.
Airdate: Thursday, Feb. 27 (Netflix)
Cast: Kate Hudson, Brenda Song, Drew Tarver, Scott MacArthur, Fabrizio Guido, Toby Sandeman, Chet Hanks, Jay Ellis, Max Greenfield
Creators: David Stassen, Elaine Ko, Mindy Kaling, Ike Barinholtz
But as the show’s own hoops-obsessed characters would tell you, even the starriest team cannot guarantee a victory. While Running Point is no loser, nor is it the slam-dunk you might hope for from this lineup.
The comedy’s concept is promising, if a bit unwieldy. Hudson plays the Jeanie Buss-esque Isla, the only daughter of the billionaire clan who own the Los Angeles Waves. Though she’s been an avid basketball fan her whole life, she’s largely been sidelined within the Gordon family business, owing to a late father who was, as she puts it in one of her intermittent voiceovers, “old-school, and kind of a sexist asshole.” But when her oldest brother, golden boy Cam (Justin Theroux), suffers a very public drug scandal, Isla is tapped to replace him as the organization’s president — to the shock of her other brothers, the team, the public at large and Isla herself.
From there, creators Kaling, Ko, Ike Barinholtz and David Stassen fan the plot in every direction. The primary through line is Kate finding her footing on the job, and trying to turn around a once-storied franchise in what’s politely described as a “rebuilding year.” The work takes the series to every level of the organization, from the board room to the locker room and even, briefly, the concession stand, as represented by popcorn-and-peanuts vendor Jackie (Fabrizio Guido) before he’s plucked to become Isla’s well-meaning but woefully under-qualified assistant.
There’s a dash of Succession-lite maneuvering, and slightly more than a dash of girlboss wish fulfillment as Isla shows her sexist doubters that not only can she accomplish what her male predecessors did, she can do it her way.
It’s also a family comedy about the Gordon siblings — which additionally include dim-bulb GM Ness (Scott MacArthur) and uptight CFO Sandy (Tarver) — learning to love each other despite an upbringing so dysfunctional their “fun” childhood anecdotes are mostly about bullying. Their personal paths are complicated by at least one soap opera-worthy twist, and some mild turbulence in their individual romantic relationships (Isla may be engaged to Greenfield’s kindly pediatrician Lev, but she has eyes, and Ellis’ head coach Jay has serious abs.)
That’s a lot of plates to keep spinning at once, and for the most part Running Point does it without too much wobbling. The pacing is brisk — each episode clocks in at under 30 minutes, and most storylines resolve within a chapter or two. The tone is insistently breezy, blowing away from either sentimentality or self-importance. When Isla gushes early in the premiere about how much the promotion means to her as a girl who never felt seen, Cam cuts her off before she can build to a rousing speech: “I need you to stop, ‘cause I don’t care about any of that shit.”
Also helping to move things along is an effortlessly charming cast. As the anchor, Hudson exudes such cleverness and effervescence that we believe in Isla before Isla herself does. Scene-stealers among the ensemble include MacArthur, whose Ness wears all his big feelings on his sleeve and all his fast-food crumbs on his chest; and (surprise) Chet Hanks, playing very much to type as a star player and amateur rapper who’s prone to talking himself into PR scrapes. Balancing the Gordons’ jadedness is Guido, who imbues Jackie with a just-happy-to-be-here sweetness that makes even the character’s chlamydia-ridden fuckboy phase more cute than gross.
But if Running Point never feels like too much of anything, it never really feels like enough of anything, either. Despite being generally amused throughout the season’s 10 episodes, I did not often find myself laughing out loud, or rushing to jot down a particularly hilarious one-liner. Nor was I especially moved, since the restless plotting rarely lets us stay in one place long enough to get emotionally invested.
While I liked all of the characters well enough, none struck me as sufficiently distinctive to be truly lovable. In some cases, as with Ellis’ Jay or Brenda Song’s chief of staff Ali, the series seems to rely entirely on the magnetism of the performers to supply the personalities that the scripts haven’t.
Running Point requires no knowledge of or interest in basketball to understand. The sports lingo is kept to a minimum and there are only a few game scenes — even those more focused on the Gordons’ reactions from the sidelines than whatever feats of athleticism players like team captain Marcus (Toby Sandeman) are pulling off on the court. In theory, this should make the story more approachable (though as the wide appeal of shows from Friday Night Lights to Ted Lasso have demonstrated, people don’t have to care about a sport itself to enjoy a scripted series set around it).
But its reluctance to get into the nitty gritty also renders the show more generic. Though we’re told Isla passionately loves Waves basketball, we get no sense of what excites her about this game, or what she understands about it that others don’t, or what she makes of its culture. The occasional courtside sequence notwithstanding, much of this series feels like it could be about any sport, or even any high-profile business venture.
As I’ve said, I’m no armchair basketball expert. Any team player could tell you, though, that talent, star power and potential can only take you so far. The good news about Running Point is that it has all three of those in spades. But if it really wants to come back a winner next season, it will have to go beyond coasting on those qualities to capitalizing on them, and figuring out what might make it sharp, specific and unique.