No Redemption

Bill Burr made a show on Netflix about his childhood in the seventies called F is for Family. It’s stuck with me in a way most shows don’t—partly because it feels like a confession instead of a performance.

The setup’s simple: Frank loses his job at an airline. Sue’s stuck at home. Kevin hates his father. Billy’s soft. Maureen’s already feral. The show just watches them grind against each other as the money tightens and everyone gets slightly crueler. Nobody learns anything. Sue doesn’t find herself. Frank doesn’t understand what he’s doing to his kids. It’s just the specific suffocation of being trapped with people you resent, in a time with no exit anyone can see.

What works is how much it refuses to comfort you. The show’s funny but not in a way that rewards you for laughing—everything’s meaner because everyone’s stressed and tired and out of options. Burr plays Frank like a man who was never good at this and is now out of time to learn. There’s something honest about refusing to soften any of it.

The show got picked up for multiple seasons, which surprised me because it’s not the kind of thing Netflix usually keeps around long. I’ve been meaning to rewatch it even though I’d probably burn through it in a weekend. I keep putting it off because the show doesn’t really invite you back. It just gets darker every time.

What I like about Burr is that he’s an asshole in his stand-up and he stays an asshole in the show—doesn’t soften Frank for the camera, doesn’t make it redemptive, doesn’t try to teach you anything. He just shows you what it looks like when a family falls apart in slow motion. That refusal to make you feel better about it is what makes it real.