Fun
Frisky
Nostalgic
Intense
Adventurous
Choked Up
Curious
Romantic
Weird
The entire first season of Small Shots consists of eight episodes, all under 15 minutes long – some as short as five minutes – and since the end credits take nearly a minute to roll, you can binge this whole thing for breakfast. Or you can spread it throughout the day – an episode while brushing your teeth, another while waiting for a bus, maybe two more on your lunch break.
“Small Shots,” get it? But wait, there’s still room for a double entendre.
Because the heroes of this series are small shots themselves, two New Yawwwwk meatballs trying to make it big, or even medium, or okay anything, as actors in Hollywood. Unfortunately Turbo (Jeremy Luke) and Joey (Joseph Russo) have been at it for more than a decade and Turbo has the proverbial job waiting tables while Joey is the world’s worst car salesman.
They’ve booked a few commercials, the odd spot on CSI, but that’s about it.
Joey is the more aggressively stupid of the two – he has this strange habit of breaking into fake fight moves when he gets frustrated – while Turbo is the more soulful (although you can only get so soulful in a series that lasts less than an hour-and-a-half).
For the first few episodes we’re just dropping into their lives. They go to the gym, where Joey repeatedly embarrasses himself while trying to embarrass others. They stand at separate sinks preparing to go on separate dates. They go to their respective workplaces and suffer slings and arrows of condescension. They meet with their scuzzy agent (a near unrecognizable Howie Mandel) who tortures them with basketball metaphors.
All of that’s pretty fun, but the series has an overarching storyline as well. It’s “Based on True Events,” and Russo and Luke actually are transplanted New Yorkers trying to make it in Hollywood (although one suspects, or at least hopes, they’re not quite this shrill). As such they are putting together an audition tape for Martin Scorsese, one in which they act out a Joe Pesci/De Niro scene from Casino.
Which brings them to a schlubby videographer named Matt (DJ Lubel) who considers himself an auteur. Matt may indeed be a “True Event” but creators Alev Aydin and Justin Schack overestimate how interesting he is. The episodes he’s in drag on – they could actually use trimming and they barely clock in at 10 minutes!
Still the tape gets made and we find out how the “True Events” turned out, probably just before you’re ready to go out to dinner, or maybe even as you’re eating dinner. You won’t get indigestion but you won’t think you’ve seen God either.
Look, the opening shot of this series is Joey scratching his balls while swiping through hot chicks on Tinder; this isn’t intellectually challenging stuff, nor is it supposed to be. It’s quick, it’s mostly fun, and then its over. Okay, what’s next Netflix?
Tom Long is a longtime culture critic who writes regularly for The Detroit News. He’s also an absolutely terrible guitarist.
