Kevin Can F**k Himself: A unique dark comedy
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Anna Murphy continues her acting legacy as the star of Kevin Can F**k Himself (2021-2022), an ABC Network original.
Dark comedy is a genre I find criminally underrated. Who does not want to laugh at the absurdity of a tragic situation—like when a killer attempts to hide a body and is interrupted by their own surprise party? Even as a horror-lover, I agree that sometimes my mood craves something less gritty. Dark comedy offers those intriguing, thrilling elements with a bit of reprieve in the mix as well.
Kevin Can F**k Himself (2021-2022) is a recent dark comedy that follows a woman struggling to define her own life and coexist with her selfish man-child of a husband. It has everything a regular dark comedy offers: Absurd situations, self-awareness, coverage of sensitive topics, and a lot of fun. I was excited to start this show a few weeks back as this genre is a bit hard to find among the random assortment of remakes and teenage dramas (which my twenty-something self is a bit disconnected with). Watching the first episode—rather, the first ten minutes—revealed that this show was different from any other I have seen.
The opening scene begins with our cast in a living room. The grainy filter, classic “set house” layout, laugh track use, and traditional multi-camera style were reminiscent of any sitcom from the 1990s or 2000s. To be more definitive, it was a sitcom. Within the first two minutes, I had to ask my friends when this show was created, as everything reminded me of the stylings found in That 70s Show (1998-2006) and Full House (1987-1995). A sitcom was not what I had clicked on for, but because no one wants to be the whiny guest who begs to change the channel, I tried to follow along with the humor paired with egregious laugh tracks and facial expressions.
Let me try to convey my delighted whiplash as the show descended past its opener: The husband is doing something stupid with his friends; their comments are mean-spirited but acceptable in the climate the show created. The wife is annoyed and takes a laundry basket to walk through the kitchen. The camera follows her, and the next scene begins with her as the central focus, and…the laughter stops. That grainy, vintage filter fades, and we get to experience a camera quality level that is to be expected in 2024. It is a slightly jarring shift to darker lighting and a single-camera style—a transition done through a swing of the door—but left me delighted and aghast nonetheless.
This introduction is amazing because it says so much through the framing alone. When the show was in sitcom mode, I did not realize how awful they treated the wife. I knew they were being rude, but the actor's gestures and laugh track patted my back to ensure this behavior was okay. Once we followed her out of the room and the original tone was left behind with the husband, I was able to really see how she was affected by her husband’s ignorant comments.
The entire show constantly shifts between this sitcom mode and drama made, and it is mainly when the characters are interacting with Kevin, the awful husband, that the sitcom is activated. This unspoken rule of the show says a lot: some people are so self-absorbed that they fail to see how their actions hurt others—like how it is difficult for viewers to see the negative effects of distasteful jokes in a sitcom. To Kevin, nothing is serious. The show does a great job of giving you whiplash between the two perspectives of Kevin and Allison, his wife.
While the cinematography and genre shift sell the show for me, the plot is wonderfully chaotic. There is stress embedded in most episodes, but the sitcom portion serves as levity that helps you sort through the insanity of it all.