The main question surrounding Season 5 of Arrested Development—the question everyones been asking me, anyway—is whether the new season, debuting May 29, is better than Season 4. (It is better! But well get there in a minute.) That season, one of the first television series that Netflix ever produced, debuted in 2013 to much fanfare, as the fledgling studio and the cult comedy joined forces. But reviews were mixed: it was weird, dark, and convoluted.
Netflix and Arrested creator/show-runner Mitch Hurwitz anticipated this question by subverting it. On May 4, they replaced the old Season 4 with a “remixed” version that runs 22 episodes instead of the original 15, and presents the seasons story chronologically, rather than as a series of episodes each focused on a single character. While the original cuts varied in length, the new ones all clock in around the traditional sitcom run time of 22 minutes. Hurwitz presented the remix as his brainchild, a “comedic experiment”—but its also been repositioned as the “official” fourth season of the show. Now, when you go to watch Arrested Development Season 4 on Netflix, youre automatically directed to the remix. (The original cut is buried under a tab called “Trailers & More.”)
Season 5 follows suit: like those of the remix, its episodes are sitcom-short, with built-in cuts for commercial breaks—even on ad-free Netflix. In one of the oddest innovations of streaming television—and one that kind of repudiates the creative promise of streaming platforms—Hurwitz has returned to the commercial restraints of the network model that Netflix built its brand on disrupting. Perhaps hes simply answering the siren call of a lucrative syndication deal, which the old Season 4 wasnt structured for. Or maybe its more. Maybe he and his creative team determined that the show works best formatted like the sitcom it once was. Maybe they figured out that the audience prefers it that way. Maybe the open sandbox of streaming content is too much for our puny human brains; maybe were not above cutting to commercial break, even when there are no ads to cut to.
Either way, the remix serves as a necessary transition, because Season 5 is markedly different from the original Season 4—and much more in line with the first three seasons of the show. In Arresteds latest iteration, the cast is mostly in the same place at the same time; Jason Batemans Michael, who went down a dark path in Season 4, is back to being mostly a good guy; the episodes are once again a digestible 20-odd minutes. Even the original opening titles are back, albeit with updated photos.
Its such a relief. Arrested Development is fascinating even when its not funny, but Season 5 is funny—not as funny as the show was in its heyday, but the magic is there, and more clearly visible than in Season 4. Its even occasionally funny in a subtly new way, as the weight of nearly 15 years with these characters deepens the ironies of their predicaments. The intricacies of its plot are accessible to the audience, and the story rockets forward with energy that Season 4 wholly lacked. That Season 5 is eminently more watchable also sets the stage for bigger laughs down the line, because Arrested Developments finest moments are often entire seasons in the making.
Season 5 finds the Bluth family, led by Lucille (Jessica Walter, a national treasure), jumping to capitalize on Lindsays (Portia de Rossi) suddenly successful congressional campaign. The first episode works very quickly to lightheartedly re-frame two of the darkest elements of Season 4—George Michaels (Michael Cera) curdling resentment towards his father, and the horribly prescient Trumpism of Lindsays “build a wall” campaign. Lucille watches the real Donald Trump on TV and, as a fellow con artist, admires his hustle. Meanwhile, Lucille “Two” Austero (Liza Minnelli), who held a lot of sway over the Bluths by the end of Season 4, has mysteriously vanished. The Bluths, of course, are involved in her disappearance; Michael was one of the last people to see her, before Gob (Will Arnett)—terrified that Michael had witnessed his physical intimacy with Tony Wonder (Ben Stiller)—forced a roofie down his brothers throat.
Arnetts performance in Season 4 was one of the best of the ensemble, but it was buried under the stubbornly dense plot. With the breathing room of Season 5, he becomes magnificent. Arnett reaches sublime new depths of tragedy as the desperately closeted Gob, offering a dissonant note to the proceedings that is reminiscent of his role as BoJack Horseman. (Seriously, get this man an Emmy campaign.) Tony Hales Buster Bluth finds himself the primary suspect in Lucille Twos disappearance, which prompts Tobias (David Cross) to “play” Buster at family meetings, in a desperate effort to prove that he still belongs in the Bluth family. Cera and Alia Shawkat, as cousins George Michael and Maeby, form a mostly honest connection that is reminiscent of Michael and Lindsays loyalty to each other. And Lucille, having ended things with both George and Oscar (Jeffrey Tambor)—her husband and his twin—is free to bask in the appreciative glances of a new paramour, played by Dermot Mulroney.
Given that Amazon fired Tambor from his Emmy-winning role as Maura Pfefferman on Transparent following sexual harassment allegations, its awkward that the actors tenure on that series is the basis for several jokes at the end of Arrested Season 4 and beginning of Season 5. According to Hurwitz, nobody at Arrested Development had similar complaints about Tambor, which is why the actor appears in the season as planned—a fact that might turn off some viewers. But at least in the episodes I saw, Tambor is less a star than a reliable fixture of the show—neither drawing much attention to himself nor fully disappearing. His presence seems much more minor than even the brief moments where Tobias “plays” George Bluth, in a “role” that turns out to be a land-use contract signing.
Arrested Development rejects any kind of serious relevance; its often a very politically savvy show, but it eliminates the human stakes of politics from its humor because its characters are so ridiculous that theyre barely human. For this reason, some might find themselves averse to the light hand Arrested Development takes with Trumpism; the show skewers the facile anti-immigrant sentiments of the movement, and lampoons any political party that would welcome both Lucille and Lindsay, but has no interest in condemnatory language. To my mind, its cynical disengagement works: theres no family that would understand the First Family better than the corrupt, rapacious, loveless Bluths. And now that history has become farce, Arrested Developments ensemble performance of American entitlement at its absolute worst is practically nonfiction.
This helps to explain why Season 5 feels right: at its core, Arrested Development is a deeply felt satire of that which already exists. It skewers anti-immigrant sentiment, family dynamics, and, most crucially, the classic sitcom itself. As the fate of the original Season 4 suggests, its not quite a model for a new kind of comedy on a disruptive streaming service. Instead, its a series that thrives within the confines of a classic sitcom structure, where the opening credits crash into the cold open and the acts are padded with commercial breaks.
Its still a Netflix season, of course—as youll be reminded each time the remix and, to a lesser extent, Season 5 employ a flashback feature that renders as rewinding the Netflix app. Its a bit mannered, but useful, and a nod to how Arrested rewards not just watching, but re-watching. The new season feels like the refined version of a flawed earlier product—a sleeker, user-tested new model, fully cognizant of how its viewers engage with the content. Its strange to see this property, now almost 15 years old—which has run the gamut from beleaguered network sitcom to pop-cultural shorthand to bankable streaming tentpole—wear its branding so obviously. But I cant deny that what its creators are doing behind the scenes is working, no matter how cynically product-oriented it may be.
Get Vanity Fairs HWD NewsletterSign up for essential industry and award news from Hollywood.Sonia SaraiyaSonia Saraiya is Vanity Fair's television critic. Previously she was at Variety, Salon, and The A.V. Club. She lives in New York.
[contf] [contfnew] 
Vanity Fair
[contfnewc] [contfnewc]
