Somebody Somewhere

I can’t remember the last time a television series so thoroughly enveloped me. Somebody Somewhere isn’t just a show you watch; it’s one you carry with you, thinking about the characters and their passions, flaws, and quiet triumphs. With only three seasons of seven episodes each, it’s brief, funny, heartfelt, honest, real, silly, and profoundly emotional. Without ever veering into political statements, the show subtly explores universal themes of otherness, belonging, and the deep yearning for a sense of place. The characters are refreshingly diverse - gay, trans, academic, blue-collar, artistic, eccentric - but never reduced to labels or stereotypes. Their humanity always comes first, and the writing treats each of them with respect, compassion, and integrity. The humor is quiet and unassuming, often bubbling up in moments of awkwardness with a few laugh-out-loud situations sprinkled throughout. The show’s gentle, languid pace perfectly mirrors its Midwestern setting. The performances are uniformly superb: Jeff Hiller is a revelation as Joel, navigating the complexities of being gay and religious, and Mary Catherine Garrison’s Tricia transforms steadily across the three seasons as she adapts to life’s surprises. But it’s Bridget Everett who anchors the series as Sam, raw, funny, and real. And when she sings - goodness, it’s transcendent. Though it won the prestigious Peabody Award, Somebody Somewhere has been bafflingly overlooked by the Emmys, save for two well-deserved nominations this year: one for Jeff Hiller’s supporting performance and one for the poignant finale’s writing. Awards or not, this is a rare, luminous series about grief, love, and the search for connection. It’s a reminder to find your person—the one who sees you completely and accepts you anyway. If you need me, I’ll be in Kansas at The Chef, sharing “French toast for the table” with all my new friends.