A retro sitcom starring Reba McEntire

The American multi-cam sitcom seems to live forever in a past that never was and a present that doesn't really exist. There's something about these flattened sets designed for the cameras (and live audiences) and the two-dimensional characters they house (sometimes literally) that inevitably brings to mind the origins of television Laugh tracks serve as a kind of haunting sound of “how” a shared experience that television shows could and could have been. We're bringing this all up because Happy's Place, Reba McEntire's acclaimed return to network TV comedy is a throwback that boldly attempts to establish itself, however imperfectly, in a modern, ever-changing world.

When we first meet Bobbie (McEntire), she's reeling from her father's recent death – well, she's both devastated by the loss and elated by the way she hopes to keep his memory alive: by continues his tavern. Happy's Place has been her life for a decade, and even though the many employees drive her a little crazy, she's found her groove among them – and so have they. However, sitcoms don't thrive on business as usual. The status quo requires a change, and that is coming Happy's Place in the form of Isabella (Belissa Escobedo), a young woman who, as Bobbie soon learns, is the half-sister she never knew she had – and a half-sister she has to get along with, now that Isabella is the half of which owns tavern. And wouldn't you know it, classic sitcom hijinks ensue! Because of course this young Latina doesn't entirely agree with a lot of the things Bobbie did with the tavern; She soon finds out why the staff at Happy's Tavern refers to “red thunder” when Bobbie is in the mood. Will they ever get along? Will they become the family they may have always needed? Is the tavern pushed into the present, which Isabella represents, while the past, which Bobbie represents, remains intact?

There's something really strange about that Happy's Place, a reassuring familiarity with its rhythms and its jokes and its plots and its characters – even, or especially, when so many of them rely on Bobbie (and Reba in turn) trying to connect with the Gen-Z vibe that Isabella brings into the action. It's a strange conceit in every way, with Bobbie's way of doing things constantly clashing with that of her younger sibling, who is only too happy to find her place in the titular bar and also in Bobbie's life. As Bobbie once bluntly puts it: “I use experience; She uses TikTok videos.” When the two get along, it means bridging the generation gap — while also making jokes about technical terms like “bussin” and “ghost lighting,” er, we mean “gaslighting.”

Merging their two worlds – or rather, merging Isabella's with Bobbie's – is exactly what the series aims to achieve at every turn, even if it's set in one world (or perhaps one past) in format and structure. Getting stuck in the realization that your father had a child you knew nothing about is nothing more than fodder for a tantrum designed only to elicit laughter. For a show that starts with a death and depends on having to turn what Bobbie knew about her father on its head, Happy's Place remains almost depressingly sunny the entire time and has little to do with topics like grief other than landing a murderous punch line. Escobedo is extremely serious and is tasked with being nothing more than a smiling thorn in Bobbie's side.

To demand Happy's Place Using Isabella as more than just a plot device to rev up McEntire's hilariously irascible Bobbie is perhaps asking too much. She is the engine of what the series wants to be, at least in the first two episodes screened for critics. “The new girl seems nice,” says bartender Gabby (the always funny Melissa Peterman). “I mean, a little young. A kind of know-it-all. It's difficult to be friends with him. But nice.” She exists to disrupt Bobbie's fragile ecosystem at the Happy's Place tavern while remaining at the same time Happy's Place The sitcom treads well-worn and well-trodden territory. This is meant as both praise and criticism. This is a sitcom that plays to the strengths of its star (McEntire can be heard in episode two) and knows that there may be a desire to bask in the old-fashioned trappings of the multi-cam sitcom. That's why it's best if the film aims at such modest ambitions and uses its laughs to create a heartwarming story about two sisters finding common ground.

The comedy is also at its best when it pairs McEntire with her, Peterman Reba co-star. It's a game that the show acknowledges will bring a smile to many viewers' faces. (“I missed that!” Gabby says to Bobbie at one point. “I missed us!” These lines are meant to wink at the audience, who also probably missed seeing them together.) As before in the sitcom, they can Both play variations on the dynamic that worked so well back then: Bobbie is content to keep others (including Gabby) at a safe distance, while the bartender is all too eager to strengthen her bond with her boss.

Perhaps the series will evolve and eventually find better use for its talented ensemble (another standout is Rex Linn as the gruff but insightful chef Emmett), Happy's Place will find a way to anchor itself in a present that doesn't feel stuck in the past. In the meantime, this NBC sitcom joins the ranks of the many endearing comedies out there, reminding viewers that sometimes all you need is a winning, charming cast that can throw out one-liners that are equal parts serious and embarrassing to do the work.

Happy's Place Premieres October 18 on NBC