‘Youth’ Review: Sharon Horgan’s Sharp HBO Comedy Asks What We Really Have to Sacrifice with Age

The "Catastrophe" writer and star returns to HBO (post-"Divorce") with a mid-life crisis comedy that's broadly familiar but refreshing in its specific insights, strong performances, and steady laughs.

“When did it all stop being fun?”

The above sentiment stems from Alex, Sharon Horgan’s fifty-something publishing associate and single mom in her new HBO series “Youth,” but it’s easy to imagine the same question originating from many of the characters the writer and actor has embodied over the years.

Her first series as a creator, “Pulling,” sees Horgan bail on her long-term fiancé when she imagines how boring her future will be. In “Catastrophe,” Horgan’s romantic-comedy co-created with co-star Rob Delaney, a couple’s frivolous fling snowballs into a string of serious commitments. The comic mystery “Bad Sisters” follows five grown siblings who turn to murder when their mirthful home life is threatened by a toxic in-law. Even Horgan’s previous effort for HBO, the black comedy “Divorce” (which she created and wrote for but did not star in or showrun), centers on a couple who has lost their joy and isn’t sure how to get it back.

When we meet Horgan’s characters, the fun times are fading away as a glut of responsibilities take their place. But her series rarely, if ever, overburden their audience with the same weighty shift. “Catastrophe” is uproariously funny in its time-hopping portrait of a surprise couple’s surprising hardships. “Bad Sisters” preserves a tight-knit family’s lively, often hilarious dynamics, even as they fret over a future in separate prison cells. “Divorce,” while ditching the upbeat intonation of her other comedies, is observant, absurd, and goes down easy, despite its dark corners.

Through seven of the first season’s eight episodes, “Youth” lands somewhere in between “Divorce’s” challenging black comedy and “Catastrophe’s” defiant jubilation — which is appropriate, given Alex is in the midst of a midlife crisis brought on by a destabilizing bait and switch. Her son, Ruari (Aran Murphy, aka Cillian Murphy’s son), is supposed to head to university and move out, thus leaving his single mother ample time to do all the things she put on hold for him: throw herself into work, get back on the dating scene, and grow into the woman she wants to be, rather than the one she’s had to be.

But then Ruari returns home without explanation. On the same day, a first date turns out to be with a much older man and she gets lockjaw during an important meeting. She asks her doctor, “Is this just the start of a general decline?” “It’s just an age thing,” she’s told, which is about as helpful as it sounds.

Suddenly, time is running out. What should she prioritize? The dreams she’s put on hold or the safety of settling into expectations? At work, Alex is told to chase down a revolting author whose new book is already the buzz of the publishing industry, but she really wants to put her agency’s weight behind an undiscovered genius with few commercial prospects. At home, a nice older gentleman offers her security and companionship — if she can just get over her persistent aversion to kissing him, touching him, or thinking about him naked — or she can roll the dice with Patrick, a younger, hotter, habitually single former flame (played with record-breaking charm by Rupert Friend).

And then there’s Ruari, whose stubborn lack of communication is both a clear cry for help and a convenient excuse to leave him be so she can do her own thing. Her ex-husband, Logan (Owen McDonnell), is a narcissistic man-child, so there’s no help coming from him, nor her elderly parents (one of whom has lost two toes to diabetes). How often should she try to break down Ruari’s walls? When does she trust him to live his own life? And when can she trust herself to do the same?

The rapidly approaching future and vanishing past are all around her, which Horgan embodies beautifully in a brief but wrenching scene when Ruari first leaves for school. As his car pulls away, she chases after it, then stops herself, then starts again. When it’s too far gone, she laughs at herself, but the next minute she’s in tears while cleaning out his room. Alex wants to hold on and let go at once, and her indecision spirals into a familiar yet attuned portrait of middle-age upheaval.

As Alex’s screw-ups and successes accumulate, “Youth” proves itself consistently self-aware, punctuating her relatable plight with empathetic insights. On vacation in Spain, Alex is so taken by an older woman’s cool, casual confidence that she tries to share her admiration, only to be embarrassed when the language barrier emphasizes how far apart she is from her inspiration. Alex and Ruori’s relationship is refreshingly fair to them both, and her romance with Patrick is made all the more tempting by how easy it is to see his and her side of things. (Horgan and Friend are really fantastic, together and apart.)

In the pilot for “Pulling,” Horgan’s character tries to explain to her dumped fiancé’s mom why she couldn’t go through with the wedding. “I just think life should be fun!” she says. “You’re destroying my son’s life for fun?,” the irate mother replies. “No, that sounds…” Horgan trails off, worrying the phrasing sounds too flippant before realizing it’s true. “Yeah, sort of,” she says.

At its best, “Youth” feels like a defense of fun as a fundamental right — that when you’re being pulled in every direction by your kids and your job, your love life and your family, your past and your future, it’s your responsibility to find the time to follow your bliss. Alex may follow it too far sometimes — like a speeding car, far from the curb, that she still has to chase — but all her years have brought her to one difficult truth:

The repercussions for having too much fun are better than the results of having too little.

Grade: B

“Youth” premieres Sunday, September 20 at 10 p.m. ET on HBO and HBO Max. New episodes will be released weekly through the Season 1 finale on November 8.