Why Rooster Isn’t Living Up to Its Potential (And What It Says About Modern TV)
There’s something deeply frustrating about a show that has all the ingredients for greatness but somehow falls short. Rooster, HBO’s latest offering, is a prime example. On paper, it’s a no-brainer: a heartfelt comedy with a stellar ensemble, low-stakes drama, and the creative minds behind Ted Lasso and Shrinking. Yet, seven episodes in, it feels like a missed opportunity. Personally, I think the issue isn’t just in the writing—it’s in the show’s inability to commit to its own tone.
The Chemistry Conundrum
One thing that immediately stands out is the uneven chemistry between characters. Take Archie, played by Phil Dunster. His character is supposed to be complex, but instead, he’s just exhausting. His back-and-forth between Katie and Sunny isn’t just tiresome—it’s a symptom of a larger problem. What many people don’t realize is that this kind of cyclical narrative can kill a show’s momentum. It’s not just about Archie’s indecision; it’s about the show’s reluctance to let its characters grow. If you take a step back and think about it, this isn’t just a plot issue—it’s a thematic one. Rooster wants to be heartwarming and funny, but it’s too busy spinning its wheels to get there.
Academia as a Caricature
Another detail that I find especially interesting is the show’s portrayal of academia. It’s not just inaccurate—it’s borderline insulting. Alan Ruck’s Dean Riggs is a walking stereotype, and the way jobs are passed around on campus feels more like a soap opera than a realistic depiction of higher education. This raises a deeper question: Why do TV writers struggle so much with authenticity in academic settings? In my opinion, it’s because they’re more interested in using academia as a backdrop for drama than in exploring its complexities. What this really suggests is that Rooster is content to play it safe, even when it has the potential to be bold.
The Slow Burn That’s Too Slow
One of the few bright spots in Rooster is the relationship between Dylan and Greg. Their slow-burn romance is one of the show’s strongest elements, but even here, the pacing feels off. What makes this particularly fascinating is how the show seems to understand the chemistry between these two characters but refuses to fully commit to their story. It’s as if the writers are afraid to let them be happy, which, in my opinion, is a missed opportunity. If Rooster wants to be a comfort show, it needs to lean into these moments of genuine connection instead of burying them under subplots that go nowhere.
The Problem with Archie (And Why It Matters)
Let’s talk about Archie again, because his character is a microcosm of the show’s larger issues. His love bombing, his insecurity, his inability to commit—these aren’t just character flaws; they’re narrative crutches. What many people don’t realize is that characters like Archie often serve as a stand-in for the show’s own indecision. Rooster doesn’t know what it wants to be, and Archie’s behavior is a reflection of that. Personally, I think the show would benefit from cutting him loose entirely. It’s not just about removing a frustrating character—it’s about freeing the show from its own constraints.
Walt’s Redemption Arc: A Glimmer of Hope
One of the most interesting developments in recent episodes is Walt’s character growth. John C. McGinley’s portrayal of the college president has been hit-or-miss, but his arc in “All The Dogs’ Names” offers a glimmer of hope. His conversation with Riggs, where he calls out the dean’s laziness and entitlement, is a standout moment. What this really suggests is that Rooster is capable of depth when it puts in the effort. Walt’s realization that he’s been left behind—and his determination to catch up—is a metaphor for the show itself. If Rooster can learn from Walt’s journey, it might just find its footing.
The Future of Rooster: Can It Be Saved?
As we head into the final three episodes, I’m left wondering if Rooster can turn things around. The show has all the pieces it needs—a talented cast, a charming setting, and a proven creative team. But it needs to make some bold choices. In my opinion, it should ditch the subplots that go nowhere, focus on its strongest relationships, and stop treating its characters like pawns in a game of narrative indecision. If you take a step back and think about it, Rooster isn’t just a show about a college—it’s a show about people trying to find their place in the world. If it can remember that, it might just live up to its potential.
Final Thoughts
Rooster is a show that feels like it’s constantly on the verge of greatness but can’t quite get there. It’s frustrating, but it’s also fascinating. What makes this particularly interesting is how it reflects a broader trend in modern TV: the struggle to balance character development with plot momentum. Personally, I think Rooster has the potential to be something special, but it needs to stop playing it safe. If it can do that, it might just become the comfort show it was always meant to be. Until then, I’ll be here, hoping for the best but bracing for more of the same.
