Bob Odenkirk plays cynicism damn well. In his most famous role, as the lawyer in Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul, we don’t get to see it much, as his performance relies on charisma, wit, and an askew moral compass. But we get a taste of what he can do with it in Nobody as an assassin with the facade of a monotonous, suburban lifestyle that hides his world-weariness and repressed rage, or in his overlooked role in Girlfriend’s Day as a fired greetings card writer who cannot capture love again. But in 2023, he starred in an eight-episode series that was steeped in unrelenting, over-the-top cynicism, and he is mesmerizing in it.
It’s worth thinking about Lucky Hank now, especially while HBO’s Rooster is still on air, heading into its season finale this Sunday after spending much of its run in the streaming top 10. Steve Carell’s comedy has become one of HBO’s best in the past year, but Odenkirk’s own portrait of academic disillusionment got cut short far too soon. It’s also a series that Odenkirk told Collider during a Collider Signature profile last summer that it “wasn’t the sexiest show you ever heard about,” but his short-lived feat, Lucky Hank, was “a great show.”
Considering the show is about the world of academia, specifically following a literature professor, his description makes sense — how do you make content that is usually reserved for novels appealing on the screen? Despite its Rotten Tomatoes score of 96%, Lucky Hank was ultimately cancelled after one season, but that was enough time for it to answer that question: Odenkirk’s cynicism is how you make academia sexy.
What Is ‘Lucky Hank’ About?
Hank Devereaux Jr. (Odenkirk) is the chair of the English department in a fictional university and the apathetic professor of a classroom filled with wide-eyed, aspiring fiction writers who are sick of his indifference. The tension in the class boils over early in the pilot, where Hank goes on a tirade about how awful his pupil’s (Jackson Kelly) experimental prose is, labeling the school as “mediocrity’s capital.” Of course, this is where the students point out that Hank himself only has one well-received book published, and even that barely made it to print: who is he to criticize their work?
The school’s non-confrontational dean (Oscar Nunez) has to deal with the fallout of Hank’s actions, whose tenure is as long as the exasperated sigh we can imagine Hank is holding over his life. Meanwhile, Hank’s home life also contributes to his self-destructive misery, as his only-30%-misery wife (Mireille Enos) is the silver lining to his dark cloud, and his daughter (Olivia Scott Welch) only speaks to him to get money for her ever-present financial struggles. Lucky Hank kicks off with this character study of the jaded professor, but slowly divides its attention to the rest of the cast, giving us a slice-of-life view of academia that is tempered by Hank’s undulating cynicism.
‘Lucky Hank’ Brings the “Unsexy” World of Academia to Life
The world of academia, specifically that of literature, is generally associated with dusty piles of untouched books, highbrow curmudgeon professors, and a tedious effort to revitalize a dying art: all images that are far from the notion of sexy. To an extent, it is, and Lucky Hank leans into that prejudice to inject some life back into it. The show paints that exact picture with Odenkirk’s misanthropic performance at the crux of it, tapping into the tired nature of those stereotypes. It is made more painfully obvious by the new generation of students who adopt that seemingly naïve notion of wanting to be experimental and ground-breaking to create their next masterpiece, but are stifled by the traditions of the past. Vitality seeps into the conflict between these generations as the show poses questions of who gets to decide what art is, or who professors are when they’re not in the classroom.
Intuitively, literature academics read books, so many stories that peer into the lives of everyday professors are generally found in novels rather than on the screen. Lucky Hank itself was adapted from a novel, but uses a workplace sitcom feel to translate the narrative to a TV medium. By doing so, the show broadens its audience and, more importantly, makes these academic lives and power plays more accessible and fun to watch on a screen. It has all the hallmarks of a workplace sitcom, including bizarre interactions between colleagues, little gems of comedy, and relatable undercurrents even if you don’t work in academia. Lucky Hank strikes a balance between academic stereotypes and a familiar sitcom structure to make this “unsexy” field at least a bit more flushed and enticing.
Bob Odenkirk Makes Academia Entertaining Through Cynicism
While the cast certainly contributes to the more vivid portrayal of academia, each wandering off into their hilarious antics, it is Odenkirk’s performance that steals the show. It’s not the first time we’ve seen an insecure older man who is re-considering his intellect or expertise and trying to make his name outside the shadow of his famous father. However, Odenkirk imbues his character with an over-dramatic, almost farcical cynicism that is supported by a sharp script and witty dialogue delivery, which makes him a delight to watch. It’s a sort of immature nihilism we can associate with a coming-of-age tale, making his character study, no matter how steeped in literary references, still relatable and enjoyable as he goes through this midlife crisis.
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What is really alluring about Odenkirk’s performance is that he balances this ennui with a hint of charisma we usually associate the actor with in roles like Saul. Hank may be a caricature of a dying breed of literature enthusiasts, one that is overbearing in his apathy, but it always feels like there is a sliver of hope for him. We can’t ever bring ourselves to fully root against him, even when he takes his wife’s undying support for granted or mimics the same eye-rolls as his daughter. Occasionally, Odenkirk gives Hank some necessary vulnerability that reels us back in from the precipice of giving up on the character.
So no, just as Odenkirk says, Lucky Hank isn’t the sexiest show around — at least not in the sense of having an immediately interesting premise. But it is as deceptively gripping as quicksand. Just like how the research pathway buries professors, this show immerses you in the lively strand of academia that you may not realize exists. By feeding into and destroying archetypes, all with a healthy dose of cynicism, this cancelled-far-too-soon series breathes new life into dying art, and isn’t that something all TV fans can appreciate?
