Let's Get Physical

It's hard to escape the thought that this louche, loose, fitfully funny comedy was created mostly so the creators could put the principals in lots and lots of spandex. It can't be denied: Spandex is funny, particularly '80s-style spandex, with neon colors in never-before-seen-in-nature combinations, and sweatbands and unitards abounding. Let's Get Physical's leads, Jones, McCord, and Diamantopoulos, are also terrific and have snappy comic chemistry. Jones finds all the comic beats in jokes about his multitude of bad habits, as does Diamantopoulos in the many gags painting him as a hyper-competitive gym nerd who's hyper-obsessed with his body: When Claudia uses a gadget to scan his body for "fat deposits" that could cause "unflattering camera angles," he bemoans a goji berry smoothie he drank last week: "Zero net carbs, my fat ass," he grumbles.

But the way two of the show's women are depicted takes a little shine off the comedy. Janet's your standard-issue screwy mom, alternately giving Joe warm fuzzies and criticizing him. More problematically, the show seems to see Claudia as part of the stakes between Barry and Joe. It's not enough that Barry "stole" (i.e., worked hard for) what should be Joe's "birthright" (i.e., the future that Joe's dad wanted for him), Barry also wound up with Claudia's affections. But a woman is not a trophy, and presumably this character didn't break up with Joe because Barry won her. Yet the show seems to believe she'll be a part of Joe's prize package when he inevitably triumphs, as sloppy likable everyguys have been triumphing over muscle-bound jocks in movies for generations now. Barry and Joe are fun -- keep their rivalry non-misogynistic, and as clean as a just-wiped weight machine, and we'll sign up for a membership, no problem.