Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. It’s a cliche because it’s true, and it could be the motto for Pixar’s best creations – its animations have revealed the hidden feelings of toys, monsters, even cars. That idea powers Win or Lose, the studio’s latest TV series – and in the moments where it commits to its ethos fully, it delivers a powerful appeal for empathy with a knowing smile.
We watch the Pickles, a middle-school kids’ softball team led by blustering dad-coach Dan (Will Forte), as they play a crucial match. They win! Thus they have the chance to play in the state championship seven days later, which is as scary as it is exciting. That is the foundation every instalment is built on. Like a sporting version of multiple-perspective arthouse classic Rashomon, we keep replaying the same week’s events – but through the eyes of a new person each time.
First up is Laurie (Rosie Foss), who fears she is only on the Pickles team because her father is the coach. She is correct: she cannot play at all. When batting, pitches fly past her as she stands frozen; in the field, high balls cause her to lose her bearings and fall flat on her back. As peers and parents watch her fail, the beads of sweat on Laurie’s brow coalesce to form Sweaty (Jo Firestone), a malevolent sprite who lives on Laurie’s shoulder, audible and visible only to her, taunting the girl by vocalising her myriad worries.
It’s a decent premise but, with the opening episode running to less than 18 minutes, there’s no time to truly flesh out the otherwise interesting characters devised by writer-directors Carrie Hobson and Michael Yates. Laurie is a child of divorce, but her flaky, tarot-reading mother, Carole (Rhea Seehorn), is underused; and Sweaty – who has grown to the size of a rotund adult man by the time the championship game arrives, weighing Laurie down – is, for viewers who have been wooed by the sophistication of the Inside Out films, quite a basic manifestation of nagging insecurity. “Let’s just replay all the mistakes you made today!” and so on.
Far better is the second episode. It’s a richer, funnier tale about Frank (Josh Thomson), the umpire of the game and a teacher at the school. Flamboyant and assertive in his shouts of “Strrrrrrrriiiiike!” during the match, Frank becomes a different person as soon as the game is over. His joy in being strict, fair and precise has turned him, in his early 30s, into an unhappy loner.
Frank loves fantasy novels and, whenever hostile people or difficult emotions come his way, his defences go up in the form of a magically manifesting shield and suit of armour. At first, that happens when players’ parents disagree far too vehemently with his umpiring calls – but in his personal life, Frank’s problems are more serious. His fear of emotional commitment has robbed him of the love of his life, and his reluctant entry into the world of dating apps – rendered as a perilous video game – prompts a test of courage he might not pass.
It’s a tender, wise story, packed with delightful supporting characters and such corking throwaway gags as the walls of Frank’s lonely apartment being hung with a framed picture of his mother, and a much larger photo of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. If most of Win or Lose turns out to be this good, it will be close to a Pixar classic.
That, however, feels less likely, given the controversy that has burdened the show. A forthcoming episode focuses on star player Kai, voiced by transgender actor Chanel Stewart. Stewart revealed that Kai was conceived as a transgender character but was then changed to a cisgendered girl. Disney’s explanation for the U-turn, that “we recognise that many parents would prefer to discuss certain subjects with their children on their own terms and timeline”, doesn’t gel with Win or Lose as we’ve seen it so far. If kids watching the show can cope with characters wrestling with crippling anxiety, low self-esteem and the terror of never finding romantic love, then chances are they can handle ruminating on being “born in a girl’s body, but [feeling] like a boy”.
Win or Lose’s lack of trans representation merely puts it on a par with virtually every other show on TV, and might ordinarily have passed by unnoticed. But it’s another reason why it feels like a swing and a miss.
