Review: ‘Government Cheese’ — A Retro Dramedy About a Charismatic Family of Dreamers
In 1969 California, conman and thief Hampton Chambers (David Oyelowo) steps out of prison on parole, despite his role in a penitentiary riot. He soon learns his release was orchestrated by the powerful Canadian Provost clan, to whom he now owes a hefty debt. While behind bars, Hampton invented a self-sharpening electric drill, hoping it will make his fortune and settle his score. Returning home to his wife Astoria (Simone Missick) and sons Harrison (Jahi Di’Allo Winston) and Einstein (Evan Ellison), he’s met with less than a warm welcome.
With Apple TV+ rolling out a slew of high-profile shows in early 2025, “Government Cheese” risks being overshadowed by heavyweights like the second season of “Severance,” “The Studio,” “Your Friends & Neighbors,” and “Dope Thief.” The dramedy’s first two episodes premiered at the SXSW festival in Texas. Helmed by showrunners Aisha Carr and Paul Hunter, the series boasts a pedigree: Carr penned scripts for sitcoms like “Everybody Hates Chris” and “Brooklyn Nine-Nine,” while Hunter is renowned for directing music videos for Jennifer Lopez, Lenny Kravitz, Justin Timberlake, and Pharrell Williams.
The creators of “Government Cheese” seem less concerned with a tight, gripping plot than with crafting vivid characters and a stylish retro aesthetic. The narrative often stumbles, leaning heavily on the eccentricity of its cast and a nostalgic portrayal of a sun-drenched Los Angeles suburb. Here, housewives await their husbands, children play on manicured lawns, and life appears idyllic—a picture-perfect vision long peddled by American television as the dream to chase.
Yet what lies beneath this glossy facade? Secrets and undercurrents of strangeness. The show delves into the hidden cracks of suburban bliss. While Hampton was incarcerated, Astoria raised their boys alone and struck up an affair. Deep down, she yearns to escape domesticity and become a designer. Einstein, courted by top universities, dreams of breaking the world pole-vaulting record. Harrison, bristling at his father’s return, is devoted to supporting California’s Native American community, sporting a cowboy hat and carrying an eagle feather in his pocket. Meanwhile, Hampton pitches his miracle drill to a space corporation, dodges Canadian thugs, mends family ties, and resists the lure of quick cash from his old pal Bootsy (Bokeem Woodbine).
This quiet California suburb unfolds as a vibrant melting pot, brimming with diverse nationalities and faiths. The Chambers family, at the heart of the story, intersects with them all. The chaotic narrative and parade of quirky characters evoke the Coen Brothers’ “The Big Lebowski” or Paul Thomas Anderson’s “Inherent Vice.” Yet Carr and Hunter are not modern auteur giants, and the eccentricities that shine in feature films don’t always translate seamlessly to a serialized format. Among TV parallels, “Government Cheese” feels closest to “Lodge 49” or “I’m a Virgo,” both of which struggled to find a wide audience.
Though each episode runs about 30 minutes, the endless zigzagging of the charming Chambers clan can grow tiresome by mid-season. The series sprawls in every direction, as if its creators aimed to capture the entirety of late-1960s California—a kaleidoscope too vast for any single show. “Government Cheese” skims the surface, poking fun at the contrast between the suburb’s idyllic veneer and the messy truths within families, but it rarely digs deeper than glossy visuals and a handful of amusing moments. The indie-film vibe and pastel aesthetic, reminiscent of Jacques Tati or Wes Anderson, take precedence over substantive storytelling.
