In a Hacks doubleheader on Thursday, the show’s comedienne hero Deborah Vance is forced to look both backward and forward — to confront pain from her past, ground herself in the present with her daughter D.J. for the first time (perhaps ever), and, in the second episode’s closing moments, look not toward her own future but that of her only child.
That these two episodes, certainly among the stronger half-hours in the show’s swan song season, are paired together is a clever play. And that the second is an Amazing Race crossover makes the feat even more impressive: what could have been a hokey series of gags dunking on reality TV instead becomes a smart device to reunite two characters, advance Deb’s growth as a mother, and give D.J. (the always-welcome Kaitlin Olson) a series-end arc that feels both satisfying and hopeful.
The gang, well, most of them, are together at the top of episode four (titled “Episode 5.4,” for reasons that will come to light later), as they walk through Deborah’s past, in literal sense, via the outfits, props, and sets from the groundbreaking sitcom Who’s Making Dinner?, which she co-created, wrote, and starred in with her ex-husband Frank. In a season about legacy and the mark you leave behind, it’s inevitable we’d revisit this far back in her history, when what might now read as a broad sitcom trope (Deb dressing as a man to open a bank account!) was, decades ago, boundary-pushing comedy.
It also gives a struggling Ava the inspiration she’s been searching for, as she remains stumped for her next big idea. While her Wizard of Oz-in-a-shopping-mall script is a curiosity, a reboot of Who’s Making Dinner? feels more viable. It’s known IP, and she has a connection to the rights holder — not Deb, of course, but her formidable sister, played by the returning, incomparable J. Smith-Cameron. Kudos to the writers for bringing the character back, along with the conniving antiques dealer, Jefferson May’s T.L. Gurley. And, by the end if the night, Ava is now locked into her final-lap trajectory.
Broad comedy may be a thing of the past; pain and pathos are requisite now, and as Deb revisits the beginning of her career with Frank, she can’t help but lace it with spite. Why is Frank, the one who took credit for the show, being honored more than she is tonight? Nothing will be named after her in this town, while he gets a namesake building. Just when it seems like another reminder of her life in Frank Vance’s shadow, he offers a twist from beyond the grave in an unearthed interview, crediting her as the true magic behind their success.
As Deborah, a character that has already won her four Emmys, Jean Smart is at her best in these moments, where decades of sidelining flash across her face or bubble to the surface. Or explode into public view, as they do here, leading her to break her non-compete clause and get arrested after the event. After that emotional journey, the laughs she earns from fellow detainees in lockup feel all the more deserved; perhaps Smart’s Emmy speech this year will, too.
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“I think that, unfortunately, the worst part of Deborah’s relationship with her daughter is that when someone makes you feel — whether they intend to or not — that you’ve failed, that you’ve let them down, you don’t want to be around them,” Smart told The Hollywood Reporter ahead of the season five premiere. “You gravitate toward people who make you feel good about yourself. The fact that it’s your child is very hard to take. But there’s a part of Debra that believes she tried her best. She thought, ‘I wanted you with me—that’s why I took you on the road,’ even though it wasn’t an appropriate place for a child. Often, she thought it was better than leaving her behind.”
Episode five, the much-touted Amazing Race hybrid, is far better than it has any right to be. The writers dive into the premise immediately, packing the full arc of Deb and D.J.’s complicated single–mother–daughter relationship into a brisk half-hour, while still moving the season forward at its midpoint. The rich backstory Smart alludes to is distilled efficiently here.
By the end, after some sharp physical comedy (if there’s a better actress than Olson to be knocked down by a rolling wheel of cheese, I haven’t seen her), it’s clear that Deb wants nothing more than to protect her daughter from the ridicule and simmering resentment that shaped her own life. We’ve watched D.J. edge toward that same fate across the series, and while Hacks necessarily compresses some of its resolution, this warmer final season does right by her, leaving D.J. with the confidence she needs to finally stand on her own.
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