Typically, brevity in television is a gift. There are always exceptions, but in the age of streaming bloat, second-screen experiences, and TV being reduced to content, clocking a tight running time is an early indicator of efficiency, confidence, or (somewhat conversely) ambition. “Government Cheese” is a different kind of exception — an aberration not because it thrives while blowing past its adopted episode lengths, but because it’s so condensed it’s barely even there.
Despite the 43-minute premiere being the longest episode of its 10-part first season, “Government Cheese” doesn’t know what to do with the little time it has, and the series’ aimlessness grows more evident with each mercifully fleeting entry. By the time the last two episodes roll around, it’s as if co-showrunners Paul Hunter and Aeysha Carr have given up on their own show. There’s no hook to lure viewers back for a potential Season 2, no revelation to gasp at, no big laugh to be had.
Instead, “Government Cheese” relies on quirk (and a few superficial religious references) to cover for its lack of depth and humor. Set in 1969, the “comedy” series picks up with Hampton Chambers (played by David Oyelowo, who’s also an executive producer) struggling to get by in prison. So his cellmate, Rudy (Adam Beach), advises he finds something to believe in, otherwise this place will “swallow” Hampton and he’ll never get back to his family.
Cut to: Hampton reading from The Book of Jonah, a section of the Old Testament perhaps best known for the titular prophet getting swallowed by a whale. At first, Hampton can’t connect with the teachings. He throws the book aside, complaining that God is too “reckless” and “just keeps fucking with man.” But the prison pastor (or librarian, it’s honestly unclear) tells him a story and brings him back to the scripture. “God always leads us out of the misery of humanity,” he says. “And if you don’t follow his path, God will fuck you up.”
This pre-titles sequence ably sets up a story in which Hampton, now a man of faith, will be tested by Yahweh (he chooses the Hebrew name because “it feels less formal”) while trying to work his way back to his family. And he has his work cut out for him. After a fateful prison riot, Hampton’s three-year sentence for writing fraudulent checks is up, and he returns home to see his wife, Astoria (Simone Missick), and two sons, Einstein (Evan Ellison) and Harrison (Di’Allo Winston).
The house, much like the fractured family it represents, has seen better days. The refrigerator is broken. The stove, too. As Astoria tells Hampton, it might be quicker to list all the things that still work, but that doesn’t deter her handy hubby. Not only does he promise to get to fixing things up around the house, he’s got a plan to fix their general misfortunes — and both require the same tool: The Bit Magician. During his time in the big house, working as a mechanic, Hampton noticed how many drillbits they used and how much time was lost replacing them. So he designed a self-sharpening drill, an invention he credits to Yahweh and believes will make millions.
The drill, to Hampton’s credit, works just as he promised, but having the right tool isn’t all it takes to make it in America. Hampton has debts to pay (to a shady family of French-Canadian mobsters), friends to support (Bootsy, a gruff “snatch-and-grab” hustler), and his own passions to pursue. While there’s a case to be made that Hampton’s plight is a matter of circumstance, “Government Cheese” is surprisingly disinterested in income inequality or institutionalized racism. The show name-checks its title in a scene where the family watches Hampton building his drill. Astoria remembers how his mother used to make “the best sandwiches” with only “government cheese and white bread.” “All that processed filth is probably what made him a criminal,” Harrison says. “[It’s] probably what made him inventive,” Astoria counters.
Why not both? As the series progresses, Hampton isn’t framed as a Black man cast aside by a bigoted society or a poor man whose only chance at the good life requires a bit of bad behavior. It sees him as a man who’s made his own choices, and his choices have landed him exactly where they should. Faith will guide him through, even if the fates often align in absurd fashion.
Except those absurdities aren’t all that funny or surprising. “Government Cheese” is the kind of comedy that you can watch, start to finish, without laughing once. In place of jokes, there are peculiarities. Moments of farce are unbalanced, with some serving as silly, slightly surreal encounters and others extending into the realm of impossibility. Yet the show remains frustratingly timid, especially when it comes to its characters.
Hampton may be sincere in his desires and offbeat in their execution (Oyelowo gets to have a lot of fun), but he’s a rather basic antihero at heart. He lies to his family. He manipulates his family. He puts his family in danger, and he does all these things because he wants to get rich, be respected, and live the American dream. Despite his mature scientific mind and nascent religious principles, he’s a scammer at heart, and all the spiritually significant frogs and imaginary mystic-helpers can’t hide the fact that Hampton fits a conventional mold. He’s just another silly dude making bad decisions out of his own self-interest, while deluding himself into thinking he’s doing it for a greater good.
Attempts to deepen the rest of the cast slam into similarly foreseeable walls. Einstein is named Einstein, so he’s obviously the weirdest of the bunch. He’s brilliant because he was dropped on his head as a baby, but rather than accept offers to Harvard or Stanford, he wants to go to college to join the pole vaulting team. He’s also totally devoted to his father, unlike Harrison, whose hatred of the dad who abandoned them is one of two character traits: The other is that he’s interested in an indigenous tribe called the Chumash, so he wears a wide, flat-brimmed hat with a feather stuck in the back.
Astoria gets the most time to develop and the least curiosity to do so. There’s an entire episode dedicated to the long-suffering housewife who dreams of true autonomy, but instead of letting her express herself by her own interests, the episode defines her by who she’s not — aka, a servile housewife whose only purpose is to please her husband. Whether it’s with surprise guests or weed-induced hallucinations, the episode makes the same point over and over, and it doesn’t help that the point was already made in earlier episodes. We get it. Astoria isn’t your typical ’60s housewife. But I have no idea who she is otherwise. (Also unhelpful: a particularly obtuse decision near the end of the season, which inadvertently casts her as either uncharacteristically delusional or uncharacteristically deceitful.)
“Government Cheese” fits snugly enough among Apple’s other alt-reality period pieces. Astoria could slide right into “Lessons in Chemistry.” Einstein, who works part-time as a lifeguard, may as well be baking under the same sun as Kristen Wiig in “Palm Royale.” The look, captured by Matthew J. Lloyd (who’s also worked on “Fargo,” a much more successful blend of antiheroes and quirk), has the same clean, surreal sheen as “Hello Tomorrow!” But what “Government Cheese” really needs is a heavy dose of the ambition present in the streamer’s first and best attempt at the sub-genre, “For All Mankind.” Without that, it hardly registers at all.
Grade: C-
“Government Cheese” premieres Wednesday, April 16 on Apple TV+ with four episodes. New episodes will be released weekly through Wednesday, May 28.
