Country Comfort
Where I watched it: Netflix
Episodes watched:
Season 1, Episode 1: “Crazy”
Season 1, Episode 2: “Teardrops on My Guitar”
Season 1, Episode 3: “Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign”
At first, Netflix top-ten (as of writing this) show Country Comfort seems to have all of the trappings of a Hallmark production: A vague title, a heroine with a beachy blowout, and a love interest who wears plaid and has a steady career. Because the marketing reminded me so much of Hallmark’s aesthetic, I expected Country Comfort to be squeaky clean, sweet, and corny. When I found out that Caryn Lucas (who wrote Miss Congeniality and was one of the writers and producers for The Nanny) created the show, though, I thought that Country Comfort might be a more unpredictable spin on a Hallmarkian sitcom.
Instead, Country Comfort is a remake of The Nanny in nearly everything but name (with some inspiration from The Sound of Music): Bailey loses her job and goes through a breakup. Through a coincidence, she winds up at the front door of a Beau Haywood, who needs a nanny for his kids, who have gone through several nannies before. One of the kids flirts with her, another one of the kids has emotional problems. Beau has an evil blonde love interest. It’s almost the same plot, except Beau is a rancher instead of a Broadway producer, Bailey is an aspiring country music singer instead of working in a bridal shop, and there are two more kids. What Country Comfort takes from The Nanny isn’t copyright infringement (I assume), so I’m not faulting it for being similar. Since the two shows are so alike, though, and since Lucas worked on both of them, it’s impossible not to compare them. While Country Comfort does a couple of things better, it’s generally the inferior show.
In The Nanny, Fran Fine is a fish-out-of-water, and the humor relies a lot on contrast and on comedy of manners (both the manners of Jewish culture in Queens and of snobby, high society New York). But Bailey and the Haywoods come from the same background (and frankly, the dialects aren’t good enough for them to poke fun at the South and have Southerners accept it), so that kind of comedy isn’t an option. Without this central conflict (or something to replace it), the humor doesn’t have a place to go. Most of the conflict of the show is built around family dysfunction (because of the death of the family matriarch two years prior), Bailey’s insecure, frenetic energy, or coincidence. The coincidence works to a point, but the rest is difficult to watch.
McPhee made me want Bailey to succeed, but at some points, Bailey’s self-pity over her circumstances disappointed me. At one point, one of the children asks her “why is it every time I’m upset, I end up having to take care of you?” The child ends up dismissing her feelings (and the fact that she thinks Bailey violated a major boundary) to comfort Bailey. Even though the show doesn’t acknowledge this, this is a pretty dysfunctional moment that shows how the adults in the story lack emotional maturity. This makes the “heartwarming” moments significantly less so, and also makes the show less witty and sharp than it could be. It means the arguments in the show are less banter and much more (at least in the first few episodes) like your friends’ parents are arguing in front of you at a sleepover. It’s intense, it’s awkward, and it’s not why you’re there.
As soon as I noticed everyone wearing a cross necklace, I braced myself for a wild misrepresentation of Christianity. While definitely not the worst depiction ever, it definitely wasn’t great. Episode three is the one that really centers around Christianity: Cassidy, the oldest daughter, doesn’t want to go to church since her mother died. What ground my gears about this episode is that Cassidy agrees to go to church when someone can explain “why [she should] believe in someone who took [her] mama away” and (while her dad makes an attempt to covertly Google it) nobody bothers to answer for the entire episode (and presumably, the two years before the story started). Nobody offers any kind of explanation (even “I don’t know, let’s ask our pastor”). Instead, Bailey’s relationship with God versus Cassidy’s agnosticism is kind of a gag, until the plot is essentially resolved by itself. Ultimately, the show centers cultural Christianity while skirting around actually talking about God. I couldn’t decide if this is meant to appeal to Christians or to mock us, but it definitely felt less effective than shows that use Christianity as more than an accessory.
There were things to like about Country Comfort -- the music is fun, there’s less offensive content than The Nanny, the kids are cute, and McPhee does well with what she has. Overall, though, it lacked warmth and freshness. Maybe with time it can expand into something better, but for now, this one definitely isn’t in my top ten.
DETAILED CONTENT ADVISORY FOR COUNTRY COMFORT
(Note: I have only seen the first three episodes)
Language:
H*ll used semi-frequently. A character mentions peeing.
Violence:
None in the first three episodes.
Sexual content:
One of the teenage boys makes uncomfortable advances toward Bailey (which she ignores), including looking at her chest and calling her hot. At multiple points, he wears a very tight shirt to show off his body around her.
A man is shown shirtless.
Someone mentions the possibility of Bailey becoming a nun, she says that “that horse has already left the barn.”
A prolonged, awkward conversation about truck nuts.
A woman mentions paying to have her daughter’s eggs frozen.
Questionable content:
Alcohol. A character mentions chugging 3 margarita pitchers at a party. Multiple characters drink as a response to being stressed/upset/etc.
