“Superior Donuts” has the nostalgic feel of a 1970s sitcom — particularly since it’s anchored by old pros such as Judd Hirsch and Katey Sagal.
Hirsch plays Arthur, the jaded owner of a rundown Chicago donut shop. He’s the kind of guy who never changed the way he did business because, well, he never had to. With chains like Starbucks horning in on his territory, Arthur has a problem. He has his regular customers, like Randy (Sagal), a beat cop with a weakness for maple creams — but when the newer customers order something as outlandish as a cronut, he thunders at them: “My parents did not smuggle me out of Poland in a cargo ship 65 years ago so I could one day sell you a cronut!” If someone was ever in need of a millennial mentor, it’s Arthur.
Enter Franco Ricks (Jermaine Fowler), a local kid in need of a job, who thinks his selling point is his familiarity with social media (Instagram, Snapchat and other “enhancements”). Not interested, says Arthur. “This is a donut shop,” he says, defiantly. “I got news for you. This is a donut museum.”
“Superior Donuts” is based on a 2008 play by Tracy Letts (“Homeland”), and once it establishes its old world/new world dynamic, we meet Bahis Siteleri the rest of the cast, including Maz Jobrani as a greedy real-estate developer who wants to buy the store (“Fancy people are moving to Uptown. They want to drink kale smoothies and not vaccinate their children”) and Carl “Tush” Tuschinski (David Koechner), a “freelancer” who parks himself at the counter with his fax machine waiting for job requests to come in. As each of the regulars meets the new kid, their chemistry is instantly established. When Franco reaches over the shop’s ancient jukebox to show Randy a piece of his artwork, he observes, “I can’t believe I just turned my back on a Chicago cop.”
The breakout here is Fowler, a sketch comedy performer whose charisma and rapid-fire delivery goes a long way to enhancing the witty script by Bob Daily, Garrett Donovan and Neil Goldman and brightening the flat backdrop. The show’s acerbic remarks about gentrification will register with urban viewers who’ve seen enough neighborhoods fall victim both to upscale chains and snooty connoisseurs of the soy macchiato.
If the pacing and direction seem like an episode of “Cheers,” with characters moving in and out of the donut shop’s swinging doors, that’s on purpose. Though slightly stagebound, “Superior Donuts” is the kind of place the network wants you to feel you can pop into for a few laughs, maybe as a refuge from cable “comedies” that are merely outtakes of the star’s (unsuccessful) therapy sessions.
The flavor of “Superior Donuts” might be old-fashioned — but a baker’s dozen of the sitcom might do the trick.
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