Matt Bomer, Nathan Lee Graham, Nathan Lane & series creator Max Mutchnick at the series premiere this week (All images via Hulu)

Mid-Century Modern was initially pitched as a gay Golden Girls, though later hype materials seemed to back off that claim. Why? Because it was probably deemed a little too on the money — at least in concept.

In execution? Well, it's somewhere between “jealousy is an ugly thing, Dorothy — and so are you in anything backless” and “it was so good we named it.”

SOME SPOILERS TO COME

Rose/Blanche combo, Dorothy and Dorothy again. (Images via Hulu)

A sitcom featuring three gays and the head gay's sassy mom, Mid-Century Modern offers countless moments and scenarios that will invite direct comparisons to vintage Golden Girls episodes, but it nonetheless diverges from its spiritual grandmother in a material way — the head gay is rich. Leaning into the stereotype about older gay men having limitless disposable income removes a potentially important element from the series: relatability. Many Golden Girls episodes were grounded in the women's true-to-life struggles as new seniors wondering how to pay their rent, make home improvements, handle emergencies and deal with family tensions.

This show works with a net, the net being cash.

But ignoring The Golden Girls and taking Mid-Century Modern on its own new-century modest terms, it has no lack of snappy one-liners to make up for some heard-it-before humor, it has a sunny, expensive-looking production design and wardrobe, and there is a believable bond between the three leads.

Nathan Lane is Bunny (no, really) Schneiderman, who has been running his family's lingerie business $ucce$$fully for years, and owns a fab pad in Palm Springs. He lives with his mom Sybil, the late Linda Lavin, who — and this is the show's greatest offering — gives an effortlessly professional performance with scrupulous comic timing. It is a fitting last performance for a legend.

In the pilot, Bunny's pals Arthur Broussard (Nathan Lee Graham), a fashionista, and Jerry Frank (Matt Bomer), a ditzy flight attendant, reunite at the funeral for their pal George. The unexpected passing leads them to take stock of their lives, and Bunny impulsively offers to let his friends live with him, share the wealth. Of course, a young man who suddenly fills up Bunny's dance card (he's old enough to have one) complicates their move-in but, as with all issues in sitcoms, not for long.

Lane is giving exactly the performance you would expect, Graham is the totally fun, MVP surprise and Bomer is just plain miscast. I didn't buy him for a second in frothy comedy. It's harder to play dumb than it looks, and he simply has a cerebral, refined air that makes it hard to accept his character's frequent space-outs.

All of the men could also benefit from pulling back — the show feels like a filmed stage play at times — but they do fare better in the show's more sentimental moments, even if getting them into these situations is often handled ridiculously. When Jerry encounters his long-estranged daughter (Billie Lourd), it is because she happens to take a flight he's working. Their interaction hits the spot, but it's all pretty brisk.

Most strikingly, everyone is better when they're in a scene with Lavin, the show's true anchor. With her character, we get a taste of real change and growth as she playfully spars with Arthur, nags Bunny, matches wits with her daughter (Pamela Adlon in a welcome recurring role) or, as on one episode, encounters a man from her past (Judd Hirsch) who allows her to be a person again, not just an old lady.

Will Adlon become the replacement for Lavin on the show?

The low point of Season 1 has to be an embarrassing episode that is completely out of touch with what's happening politically and the very real impact it is having on LGBTQ+ people. In it, Stephanie Koenig plays their neighbor Penny Newton-Breen, a populist right-wing congresswoman styled after Lauren Boebert. Though she is a fascist, the joke becomes that Bunny is a liberal who has no idea why he believes the things he believes, Jerry doesn't care and Arthur only wants to destroy her until he meets her because she's “a hot-mess party girl with no boundaries and a phone full of congressional erections.”

Absurdly, Jerry — who hasn't slept with a woman since his adult daughter was born — lets Penny peg him. I guess this is what The Hollywood Reporter calls “edgy.” Penny later confirms she is voting for the Don't Groom in Homeroom bill, a weirdly cutesy joke to make in 2025. In spite of her evil politics, they all decide to support her at her dog's funeral. And, of course, she reverses her position — but only due to blackmail. It was at his point I had to wonder: What even is this show doing?! The episode isn't escapist, it's dumb at best and self-defeating at worst.

The good news is if Episode 7 is skipped, the rest of the series is a much more palatable grab bag of perfectly cast guest stars (Richard Kind as Bunny's frenemy is Emmy-worthy), airy put-downs, you-go-girl-level jokes and, occasionally, true gay wit. Its effectiveness sometimes seems to go high when the show goes low, as when Lavin observes, “As my mother used to say, 'Time is a cunt.'” Marvelously, this jarringly funny line precedes Lavin singing an all-too-short, lovely version of “Long Ago and Far Away.” (Longer version from 2020 below.)

Speaking of Lavin, as we all know, she died during the show's production at 87. The way her death is handled in the series is genuinely surprising — Sybil dies in Episode 10, and, as her off-camera death is related by Lane, it exactly mirrors Lavin's, drawing from Lavin's husband's Instagram video description.

The series even uses Lavin's actual last words as Sybil's. Even if you're not in the know about this, it's deeply touching and is Lane's finest moment. But when you do know, it's a dagger in the heart, and makes for “a very special episode” of Mid-Century Modern, the best-written of the first season, and the episode that best ties up its pathos with a last laugh.

Lavin's last bow came filming this show — and she went out with a bang, creating a memorable mom in Sybil.

Though it will be hard to recover after losing Lavin, the show felt to me like it was gelling by season's end.

A poignantly funny tribute — with Fig Newtons.

I do not think gay viewers will take to Mid-Century Modern as unabashedly as they did to The Golden Girls, but it could go over like Hot in Cleveland — as a  funny enough guilty pleasure that features three real-life gay men playing gay men on a mainstream show. The question mark comes with wondering how tired gay viewers are of reveling in arguably self-deprecating clichés.

Still, as over-the-top as the characters are, we've all met them, and there could be a comfort — maybe even something approaching a sense of family — in that familiarity for some.