Vacations are hard. You look forward to them for months. Then, once you are vacay, it turns out you’re still you and your spouse and your friends are still themselves. Thus, you are all still just as capable of delighting and infuriating each other as you were at home. As it turns out in The Four Seasons, that holds true even when you are in your 50s and well off enough to take four vacations a year without even glancing at price tags.

Let’s start with that. Viewers frustrated by TV or films that treat the idea of being upper middle class (or perhaps above) as the default, will likely find The Four Seasons under the skin. This is not a series interested in exploring questions of class or privilege. The collection of four couples the story revolves around don’t even snark about each other’s finances. And don’t expect a moment where they acknowledge how good they have it. This writer isn’t arguing that creators Tina Fey, Lang Fisher, and Tracey Wigfield should’ve adapted the 70s Alan Alda film into a meditation on the class divide. The original certainly never was. It’s just acknowledging that there can be a sensitivity to being glibly financially secure these days. So, let the audience beware.

Speaking of the well-regarded at the time but now feels slight Alda effort, this modern update in a different medium is better in almost every way. More thoughtful, less antic, more honest, less silly. It isn’t a home run, but it is one of those remakes/reimaginings that mines what worked in the initial text and finds gaps in the story to fill in and strengthen.

And what is that story? Perhaps better titled The Four Vacations, The Four Seasons devotes two episodes each to four vacations taken by a group of long-time friends. Nearly all of them have known each other since college and been together just about as long. They regularly meet for events, like a weekend-long celebration of Nick (Steve Carell) and Anne’s (Kerri Kenney-Silver) marriage, ski trips, island getaways, and visits to their children’s colleges.

While an ensemble, Kate (Tina Fey) and Jack (Will Forte) end up as the audience’s way into the group. Kate is a planner who keeps her well-intentioned but a bit spineless and easily distracted husband on track. If she’s not the reason everyone vacations together, she’s at least the one who handles logistics. At the film’s start, they have the most “typical” Hollywood-style marriage. They’re happy, but not without friction, companionate, but still apparently have regular sex.

Nick and Anne’s marriage is seemingly perfect but quickly revealed as not. The changes in their marriage in the first two episodes drive most of the action for the rest of the series. Claude (Marco Calvani), the only member of the six who didn’t go to the same college, and Danny (Colman Domingo) are open and poly. Communication about anything that isn’t sex seems a bit rockier. Ginny (Erika Henningsen), a latecomer to the group, is 20 years younger than everyone. One can probably easily guess how she joins the circle.

While well-shot by cinematographer Tim Orr, the draw of The Four Seasons is the camaraderie and clashes of personality. To the show’s credit, no one character is given the hero or the villain edit for the length of the series. Everyone gets a chance to be right and wrong. More often than not, they dwell in some Schrodinger’s place, living as both the good and the bad guy in their respective relationships.

Fey is in something of a This Is Where I Leave You mode. Quick-witted and tart bordering on bitter, she tends to be overly comfortable judging others, including her husband. Forte is solid as that hubby, a guy who performs being everyone’s bestie before collapsing when alone with Kate, unaware of what that does to her.

Domingo is excellent, of course, a mirror of his ex-girlfriend/best friend Kate in that he’s too frequently unaware of how what he says and does falls on others. Calvani has the most thankless role as Claude, but he keeps a couple of strong scenes that hint at how he might’ve handled a more well-rounded character. Henningsen falls into this category as well. However, the thinness of her character feels intentional, giving her space to become real in the eyes of the friend group and the audience. Unfortunately, the show paces that evolution out awkwardly, and she grows in fits and starts. As a result, she’s not quite where she needs to be turning some key moments in the finale.

Kenney-Silver has had a handful of dramatic parts, but this feels like her most fully realized. Her Anne is sad, sweet, and vengeful in just the right ratios. She has a killer scene during the first “vacation” with Fey. Kinney-Silver lets on she knows exactly what’s happening around her while refusing to say the words. The hopeful but tired look she gives her friend makes one wish the show had time enough to dwell there a bit longer before dashing off for another character pairing.

Carell has the show’s toughest lift. As Nick, he needs to play selfishness without dimming his charisma. However, he can’t shine too bright, lest The Four Seasons feel like a full endorsement of his behaviors. There’s a slipperiness, a sense that every line is to convince himself of his reality as much as to sell it to his friends. However, he can also strip away the artifice. In the midst of a scene with his understandably angry daughter Lila (Julia Lester), she softens, attempting to acknowledge how painful something must have been for her dad. He waives her off quickly with a rushed, “Not everything is trauma.” Carell makes it work because it is clear he isn’t dismissing her, but rather himself. He rejects the life preserver because he knows she needs him to accept responsibility for his proverbial shit more than he needs to feel ok.

For what The Four Seasons is, this is near the best version of it. Audiences allergic to Big Chill-style “We’re getting older but we’re still fun and messy,” will likely dislike this more expansive with a worse soundtrack version. On the other hand, for those in the same period of life? Or with a particular affection for looking back while still enjoying the present? Seasons fits in nicely. There are some plot missteps for sure, but audiences on its wavelength will handwave them without issue. The characters are irritating in a way that feels honest and natural. It isn’t like vacationing with your friends. But it is cheaper. Even better, you can turn the thing off if they start to bug you too much.

The Four Seasons has its bags packed by the front door of Netflix now.

The Four Seasons Trailer: