When the comedian Leanne Morgan reached her mid-50s, her life drastically changed. The same is true of the namesake character she plays on the Netflix sitcom “Leanne,” albeit in a less interesting way. After many years spent moonlighting as a stand-up while raising three children in East Tennessee, Morgan blew up on social media during the pandemic, when videos recorded on her porch connected her with an audience of other older moms and catapulted her into comedy’s upper echelon. The fictional Leanne’s husband Bill (Ryan Stiles) abruptly leaves her for a younger woman, forcing her to reevaluate her relationships. (The real Morgan remains married to her husband Chuck, a frequent subject in her act.) Morgan’s 2023 special, also on Netflix, is literally called “I’m Every Woman” — to tell a true-to-life story about her late arrival to Hollywood would sacrifice the relatability that’s key to her appeal. “Leanne” is nonetheless most compelling as an indirect autobiography, even as its broadly folksy humor and dialed-in ensemble provide more accessible charms.
To channel her comedy into a series, Morgan has partnered with multi-camera king Chuck Lorre and showrunner Susan McMartin, both credited as co-creators. (McMartin is a frequent Lorre collaborator on such shows as “Mom” and “Two and a Half Men.”) Though Morgan has said she initially gravitated toward a single-camera setup as a fan of “Parks and Recreation,” the Lorre house style suits her. As my colleague Michael Schneider has written, building a show around a stand-up is itself a throwback to the heyday of “Roseanne,” “Seinfeld” and their many copycats. Even before you factor in Morgan’s specific material, it’s fitting to use a more vintage format for said undertaking.
Morgan’s existing fans will recognize much of what’s in “Leanne”: humor about aging parents, midlife indignities like CPAP machines and a deeply Southern sensibility. Some phrases, like “hateful panties,” are in fact lifted verbatim from previous bits. Morgan is not a political comic, and bits of set dressing like a scene set at a church luncheon or a shotgun Bill left behind in the house don’t read like culture war posturing the way they might on, say, a Taylor Sheridan show. (No one’s bloviating about the evils of renewable energy here.) Instead, they’re lived-in details of Morgan’s own life, which is different enough from the typical comic’s life of road gigs and itinerant youth that “Leanne” effortlessly stands out. Leanne’s favorite interjection is “Oh, Lord!”, and her go-to source of cooking advice is Southern Living magazine. She has all the warmth of a grandmother whose first audiences were the clientele at Avon-style jewelry sales parties in other people’s living rooms, because that’s exactly who Morgan is.
“Leanne” surrounds Morgan with a custom-built sounding board. After Bill leaves, Leanne turns to her sister Carol (Kristen Johnston), already a divorcée twice over, for support. Johnston, a veteran comedic actress, may be best known for her quite-literally-high-impact turn on “Sex and the City,” a show that’s every bit the urbane fantasy “Leanne” is not. She’s nonetheless a great screen partner for Morgan as a woman with a plausible family resemblance to Leanne, but whose “tastes are a little more cosmopolitan — I lived in Chicago.” Carol and Leanne help care for their parents Margaret (Celia Weston) and John (Blake Clark), while Leanne’s son Tyler (Graham Rogers), a new father, provides moral support after the divorce. Her daughter, Josie (Hannah Pilkes), is more of a chaos agent.
Netflix provided only the first half of its unusually long — practically unheard of in the streaming age! — 16-episode season to critics. Were the eight installments sent out the entirety of our introduction to “Leanne,” the show would have many of the same problems as so many fledgling sitcoms struggling to settle into a rhythm with a scant handful of episodes. Both Carol and Leanne get love interests who are abruptly introduced, devices like ‘80s flashbacks are used sporadically before fading away and marginal characters like Bill’s other woman and Josie leave much to be explored. (I couldn’t quite tell, for example, whether Josie is meant to have actual addiction issues or just be a general purpose partier.) Knowing there’s more to come, however, gives me hope. If “The Pitt” is any indication, streaming services are wise to invest in season orders slightly closer to the network ones of yore. That’s the only way they’ll get bingeable catalogs of their own, and with its often sub-20-minute runtime, “Leanne” is as easy to rip through as a box of Thin Mints.
I may not be the target audience for “Leanne,” but I found much to like in it, and suspect many Netflix subscribers will as well. To the extent that I chafed at some of its worldview, it was at the frequent comments on diet, weight and appearance, many of them directed at Morgan herself. (“When did I become a pelican with a mahi mahi in my throat?” Leanne wonders.) On the other hand, the slapstick of Leanne attempting Zumba or Pilates helps widen Morgan’s comedic range, showing a talent for slapstick as well as a turn of phrase. And to the extent I wished Morgan and the show’s writers would take it easy on Leanne — and noted our different attitudes toward diet culture that fell along generational faultlines I’ve encountered in my own life — it was because I’d come to care for the character so quickly. She deserves a break!
All episodes of “Leanne” Season 1 are now available to stream on Netflix.
