Nobody Wants This season 2 review: Kristen Bell, Adam Brody’s rom-com show, like its protagonists, ends up suspecting the now for what comes later

Nobody Wants This begs the question: what if Fleabag (Phoebe) and The Priest had given their relationship a shot? What if he hadn’t left it at “It’ll Pass” and instead couldn’t help but explore what it could’ve been. The cancellation of Fleabag after two wild seasons left a void which was populated by Foster’s show. A less hardened priest in the form of a rabbi, and a less self-sabotaging protagonist in the form of a podcaster.

Her profession makes sense because as a podcaster, she doesn’t have to rely on breaking the fourth wall like Fleabag. Phoebe’s lonely character didn’t have anyone but the show’s audience as her sole sounding board. Joanne has only her partner-in-crime in the form of not only her sister Morgan, but also the audience of her popular podcast. She’s a more new-age version of Fleabag who goes down the podcast path to crystallize her identity and find her community.

While the first season revolved around both the protagonists overcoming their inner hurdles — and some external in the form of Noah’s hardlined Jewish family — the second season shows what changes in the romance of a chalk and a cheese when “you merge your lives and blend your friends” post the honeymoon phase. Tensions crop up for Joanne and Noah at the first dinner they host for their friends — and the question of conversion shows up as the uninvited guest.

Noah is a rabbi who requires his future matrimonial partner to convert to Judaism. While Joanne isn’t attached to her religion anyway, to her, the conversion symbolizes commitment, that little nasty monster that’s been hiding under her bed since childhood. She’s not afraid to convert, but to commit — a non-negotiable prerequisite for Noah, for both his personal and professional identities hinge on his partner’s nod.

The central conflict in Nobody Wants This season 2 is no longer about whether Joanne would convert/commit or not, but when she will convert/commit. She’s not averse to the idea, but insists she needs time. That’s almost her way to test Noah — whether he can live with the uncertainty and still love her in the same way. There’s some sense of self-sabotage there — does she really care so much about her religion? Is conversion that big a deal? Or she’s just looking for a red spot in the greenest of green flags that is Noah.

Noah has become an internet darling only because of the sensitivity and stillness with which Adam Brody enlivens it. He’s always lending an ear instead of reacting sharply, always blunting the edges instead of sharpening them, and seldom letting the uncertainty get in the way of the relationship. But in an episode, one does see how he could be a red flag in terms of how he leads on his girlfriends by indulging in grand gestures before suddenly snapping and moving away.

Noah faces the pressure of being not only a green flag, but also a rabbi. Can he ever afford to be a rabbi who suspects, and a boyfriend who disappoints? Even Joanne warns him to not see the glass half empty because she’s the “cynical one” of the two. But to burden him with that expectation is to somewhere compel him to be the good boyfriend on Valentine’s Day who goes by the book and gifts customized yet standard gifts to all his girlfriends through the years. It’s only when she confesses to him that his romantic appeal lies in the routine, and not in the occasional, that he goes back to being a green flag.

It’s interesting to see Noah’s arc get some spotlight too, instead of the narrative getting obsessed with Joanne’s. It’d have been more fascinating to see his internal journey of how heavily he carries the burden of being good. We only witness that obliquely in his wrestling between faith and love. Judaism is no ordinary faith — it comes with years of ancestral struggle. It’s not just conditioning, but also honouring of a troubled past that’s enabled a smoother present. It’s hard to imagine a progressive boyfriend of today be entangled in the tentacles of faith, but it’s also probably the same faith that enriches him as a man and as a boyfriend.

This season, he realizes that it’s also the other way round — his relationship with Joanne also makes him a better rabbi. To lose that for the sake of his faith is also to lose the potential of becoming a better rabbi. One wishes one could’ve seen more of that struggle in this season of Nobody Wants This. Instead, we see a fun yet fairly inconsequential track between Morgan’s new, tricky relationship with her therapist. We also see more of the Crazy Rich Asians-style saga of Noah’s mother showing off her scissors to his and Joanne’s growing ties. And we see more of the same loops of doubt and self-doubt coiling around a potentially messier show.

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Everybody wants another season of Nobody Wants This, and it’s already been renewed for a season 3. That’s probably to give its audience the hope that more troubles and resolutions await Noah and Joanne who — is it really a spoiler alert? — push their future and past away respectively to choose each other yet again at the end of season 2. But as the show underlines time and again, any good thing is threatened by the question of what would happen next. Hence, one wishes that instead of more promises, season 3 of Nobody Wants This focuses more on making the now better. The conflict between the head and the heart is often between the future and the present. Why allow the commitment of a potentially great season 3 get in the way of what could’ve been a better season 2?