Selling a home is, at best, a time of sanitized chaos. As they say about ducks, above the surface, like during open house, everything is serene to the point of sterile. But beneath the surface, behind the scenes, it is a whirling dervish of activity and emotions. So it only makes sense No Good Deed, a series that revolves around a home for sale, would be an absolute mess. For better and worse.
Ironically, the house part of the story is the easiest to grok. Lydia (Lisa Kudrow) and Paul (Ray Romano) Morgan are selling what was once their dream house. The reasons are unclear, but there are hints. Their two kids no longer live at home. Paul, a contractor, was responsible for the repairs and upgrades. Despite that, though, it still cost them a pretty penny. Lydia, a former concert pianist forced into early retirement when she developed a tremor, undoubtedly made those costs feel more dire. Regardless of the why, Paul’s anxious to unload as fast as possible. Lydia, on the other hand, feels a ton of ambivalence and will only accept the perfect new owners. Perhaps not even then.
Nearly all the characters that matter show up at the Open House, the series’ first big set piece. Highly energized real estate agent Greg (Matt Rogers) oversees the whole thing, laying on the “a beautiful place to raise a family” hard. Then there’s former soap actor JD (Luke Wilson), a neighbor who covets the classic style of the Morgans’ home. The social climbing Margo (Linda Cardellini) makes an appearance, unaware that Lydia would rather burn the place down than let Margo take up her former home. Dennis (O-T Fagbenle) and Carla (Teyonah Parris) are recently married and with child. They’ve brought along Dennis’s mom, Denise (Anna Maria Horsford), for the tour, a choice the couple may not be on the same page about. Sarah (Poppy Liu) and Leslie (Abbi Jacobson), on the other hand, have given up on children and filtered that money and effort into finding a new home.
Later that day, Mikey (Denis Leary) pays Paul a visit. He’s demanding 80,000 dollars in cash immediately and threatening violence if he doesn’t get it. Or worse. Despite Paul insisting it was drugs, not him, that sent Mikey to prison, Leary’s angry tough drops hints he might reveal his role in covering up some dark event from three years earlier.
Out of respect for spoilers, that’s where the plot recap needs to stop. Suffice it to say, the characters’ lives intersect and crisscross in increasingly intricate fashions. Secrets are revealed. Bodies are hidden. Drugs are taken. And much, much more. It is wild and a lot of fun. It is also cacophonous and deeply frustrating.
As a puzzle box, No Good Deed is a doozy. Every reveal raises more questions. Each flashback changes the audience’s perception of what happened, who’s to blame, and who has the right to feel like a victim. One’s tolerance for slow reveals, backpedals, and shocking twists will determine whether or not this overloaded and overcranked affair brings joy, tedium, or anger.
It is, to be frank, too long. The first handful of episodes spend far longer setting things up and introducing characters than necessary. There’s a lot of neighborhood and individual lore to lay out, for certain, but the pacing too frequently feels languid. One might well feel like bailing by episode 3 and this critic would not necessarily blame them. That said, the pace picks up and reaches an almost feverish pitch by the series’ end with episode 8. So viewers with the patience to hold on will find themselves on a rapidly careening vehicle.
It is all confusing enough to make the series feel like a much longer series at various times for different reasons. Sometimes, the pacing is slow enough, one’d swear they’ve been watching much longer than they have. At others, so much has happened in such a small window, it seems impossible just one episode could contain it all. As written above, it’s all very messy.
To series creator Liz Feldman’s credit, she has put in the time to ensure the lore works and is relatively without gaps or logical leaps. As unlikely as the connections and coincidences become, she clearly made sure the puzzle fits together when all is said and done. It may all feel a bit too much, but darn it, everything does line up.
Silver Tree’s direction—she helms six episodes with Feldman picking up the other two—certainly helps. There’s a structuralism to her direction even as the show feels like it is spinning off its axis. In the same way that she quickly asserts the geometry of the Morgans’ home, she efficiently places each set of characters in their proverbial home bases. She is also confident enough to give the series a strong visual identity that nonetheless allows the revelations, not the camera moves, to pop to the forefront. No Good Deed is a very writerly show, and Tree’s direction respects that without rendering it inert.
So is No Good Deed no good thing? Again, a lot depends on personal preference. For this writer, the messiness quickly becomes part of the show’s appeal. The faster the plates spin and clatter, the more bizarre the coincidences come, the more appealing the show becomes. It is only fittingly funny, but when a joke hits, it works. It’s big in feeling but never melodramatic. The people are broad, but they feel emotionally honest about everything happening.
Life is sloppy and strange and always in danger of collapsing like a house of cards. No Good Deed is much the same. It crashes into your living room, overturns your coffee table, and yells at you. And yet, it is nearly compelling enough to get away with it.
No Good Deed is currently going unpunished on Netflix.