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NEW YORK (CNS) -- Chuck Lorre, the creator of some of this century's more popular sitcoms ("The Big Bang Theory," "Two and a Half Men") has come to Netflix with a new comedy "The Kominsky Method."
Surprisingly affecting yet excessively raunchy -- reflecting the absence of network restraints on content -- the limited series is currently streaming in eight half-hour episodes.
Michael Douglas, also one of the show's executive producers, is Sandy Kominsky. A legendary acting coach, the former Tony Award-winning actor's own career in Hollywood didn't go far because he burned too many bridges.
As the first episode begins, Sandy, dressed in gray with fashionably long gray hair and a scruffy beard of the same color, enthralls his acolytelike students with a speech about their craft. "Actors," he says, "are playing God," bringing worlds into life. "And like God," he says, "we must love our creations."
Sandy's lofty aspirations get a hard dose of reality in the next scene when he meets his agent and best friend, Norman Newlander (Alan Arkin), for lunch at their favorite restaurant. (In an effective, recurring sight gag, their doddering waiter, Alex, played by Ramon Hilario, delivers their drinks with faltering steps and trembling hands.)
Sandy wonders if Norman has secured him a role on a new CBS sitcom. Having some fun at the real-life creator's expense, the dialogue references the $1 million salaries the lead actors on "Big Bang" receive.
Norman tries to reassure Sandy when, predictably, he doesn't get the part. Sitcoms, Norman says, are "pablum."
Sandy's frustration with not getting work, and Norman's awareness that his friend isn't the best client stir the undercurrent troubling their friendship. "The Kominsky Method" explores how loss, illness and a series of crises further unsettle the men's long-standing bond.
The death from cancer of Norman's wife, Eileen (Susan Sullivan), in the first episode is the tectonic shift disrupting the ground under the duo's feet. When he visited her on her sickbed, Eileen asked Sandy to take care of her soon-to-be widowed husband.
Sandy initially meets the occasion, handling the funeral arrangements when Norman can't cope. But Sandy is eventually distracted from his designated task by his preoccupations with serious health concerns and his fitful courtship of Lisa (Nancy Travis), a divorcee who is one of his acting students.
Norman's life is complicated by the return of his adult daughter, Phoebe (Lisa Edelstein). A serial patient of drug rehabilitation facilities, Phoebe's substance abuse soon finds her and her father traveling down an overly familiar road, albeit with Sandy's support.
The actor and agent's relationship becomes most fraught when the Sandy's fiscal irresponsibility threatens the survival of the acting studio -- to the consternation of his daughter, Mindy (Sarah Baker), who helps manage it.
Norman is the only person who can aid Sandy now. That realization surfaces buried resentment, which Norman expresses to his old friend: "bitterness about your failed acting career poisons your entire life."
The dialogue frequently employs coarse language, much of it gratuitous. Strong sexuality, including some nudity, and scatological humor also are featured. Passing references are made to gay marriage and to persons who identify as "non-binary." Drug use also is depicted.
Pushing the limits of good taste and decency -- the script even has Danny DeVito, in the guise of Sandy's physician, Dr. Wexler, giving his patient a prostate exam -- "The Kominsky Method" is suitable for few. Viewers with a strong tolerance for vulgar material will, nonetheless, find things to like and admire about the show.
The frequently sharp comedy is highlighted by a who's-on-first routine between the leads during which they confuse the word ludicrous and the name of the rapper Ludacris. But the series will also move viewers, as when Norman is startled by grief after collecting his late wife's dress at the dry cleaners.
Lorre deserves credit for breaking the traditional sitcom formula and for addressing aging and mortality both seriously and with humor. These themes are rare in television -- as are shows featuring actors in their 70s and 80s.
Though it generally -- and commendably -- aims high, "The Kominsky Method," to its detriment, sometimes takes the low road, making its appropriate audience a small one.
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Byrd is a guest reviewer for Catholic News Service.