Stumble: New Show Seeks Its Cheer, But Can It Stick?
The title of a show can be incredibly telling, can’t it? Sometimes it’s a grand, sweeping statement, hinting at epic narratives or profound truths. Other times, like with NBC’s new mockumentary sitcom, *Stumble*, it’s a bit more…literal. And in this case, it feels like a subtle, perhaps even intentional, nod to the very act of finding one’s footing in the often-unpredictable world of television. Because after watching the initial episodes, that’s exactly what *Stumble* seems to be doing: trying to find its stride.
From the outset, *Stumble* plunges us into the vibrant, high-energy world of college cheerleading, framed through the familiar lens of the mockumentary. We meet Courteney, an elite coach whose impressive trophy case belies a sudden, rather ignominious firing. This abrupt shift sets the stage for her new challenge: revitalizing a struggling team at a considerably less prestigious junior college. It’s a premise ripe with underdog potential, the kind that usually draws us in with promises of heartfelt triumphs and quirky camaraderie.
Yet, as the cameras roll and the interviews unfold, there’s a palpable sense of searching. Are we meant to find these characters endearingly flawed, or are they simply…flawed? The line between affection and amusement feels blurred, a common tightrope walk for this genre. Shows like *Parks and Recreation* or *Abbott Elementary* masterfully balanced sending up their eccentric inhabitants with genuine warmth. *Stumble*, however, is still figuring out that delicate calibration. While Jenn Lyon, as Courteney, carries a commanding presence, the character oscillates between steely determination and a confusion that, while perhaps understandable given her circumstances, doesn’t always land with the intended impact.
The ensemble cast is a collection of archetypes, each with a distinct quirk. There’s Madonna, the narcoleptic flyer whose sudden naps are initially a surprising comedic beat, but like many recurring gags, the humor diminishes with repetition. Then there’s Peaches, whose origin story involving a can of cling peaches is, frankly, one of the sharper, more unexpected laughs. These characters are broad strokes, and while they aim for memorable, they often feel more like placeholders, waiting for the show’s narrative to flesh them out. It’s a bit like watching the foundational framework of a building go up; you can see the shape, but the walls and décor are still a work in progress.
What’s particularly intriguing, and perhaps where the show’s true potential lies, is its willingness to take the sport of cheerleading seriously. The series doesn't shy away from showcasing the athleticism involved, acknowledging it as a demanding and even dangerous endeavor. This grounded perspective, juxtaposed with the inherent silliness of the mockumentary format and the often-absurd situations the characters find themselves in, creates an interesting tension. It suggests a desire to move beyond superficial stereotypes and explore the dedication required at this level.
The relationship between Courteney and her husband, Boone, played by Taran Killam, offers a glimpse of the warmth that *Stumble* is striving for. Their dynamic, reminiscent of the beloved coaching couples in *Friday Night Lights*, showcases a refreshing portrayal of partnership and mutual support. These moments, where they affectionately address each other as "coach" even in private, feel like genuine anchors in the show's more chaotic moments. It’s in these quieter, more grounded interactions that the show hints at a deeper emotional core, suggesting that beneath the gags and the underdog narrative, there’s a human story trying to emerge.
However, some of the comedic choices feel a tad labored. The reliance on forced plot devices, like blurring out innocuous toys due to trademark concerns, feels like a narrative shortcut, pulling the viewer out of the immersive experience the mockumentary format aims to create. It’s in these moments that the show feels less like an organic portrayal of life and more like a collection of jokes being assembled.
Ultimately, *Stumble* is a show in its nascent stages, much like its titular cheer squad. It’s grappling with its identity, trying to balance sharp humor with heartfelt sincerity, and navigating the complexities of the mockumentary genre. The ambition is evident, the cast is trying their best to make it sing, and there are flashes of brilliance. But whether it can truly find its footing and transform from a promising concept into a consistently engaging series remains to be seen. As the season progresses, will the characters develop the depth that allows us to truly root for them, or will the show forever be defined by its title?
From the outset, *Stumble* plunges us into the vibrant, high-energy world of college cheerleading, framed through the familiar lens of the mockumentary. We meet Courteney, an elite coach whose impressive trophy case belies a sudden, rather ignominious firing. This abrupt shift sets the stage for her new challenge: revitalizing a struggling team at a considerably less prestigious junior college. It’s a premise ripe with underdog potential, the kind that usually draws us in with promises of heartfelt triumphs and quirky camaraderie.
Yet, as the cameras roll and the interviews unfold, there’s a palpable sense of searching. Are we meant to find these characters endearingly flawed, or are they simply…flawed? The line between affection and amusement feels blurred, a common tightrope walk for this genre. Shows like *Parks and Recreation* or *Abbott Elementary* masterfully balanced sending up their eccentric inhabitants with genuine warmth. *Stumble*, however, is still figuring out that delicate calibration. While Jenn Lyon, as Courteney, carries a commanding presence, the character oscillates between steely determination and a confusion that, while perhaps understandable given her circumstances, doesn’t always land with the intended impact.
The ensemble cast is a collection of archetypes, each with a distinct quirk. There’s Madonna, the narcoleptic flyer whose sudden naps are initially a surprising comedic beat, but like many recurring gags, the humor diminishes with repetition. Then there’s Peaches, whose origin story involving a can of cling peaches is, frankly, one of the sharper, more unexpected laughs. These characters are broad strokes, and while they aim for memorable, they often feel more like placeholders, waiting for the show’s narrative to flesh them out. It’s a bit like watching the foundational framework of a building go up; you can see the shape, but the walls and décor are still a work in progress.
What’s particularly intriguing, and perhaps where the show’s true potential lies, is its willingness to take the sport of cheerleading seriously. The series doesn't shy away from showcasing the athleticism involved, acknowledging it as a demanding and even dangerous endeavor. This grounded perspective, juxtaposed with the inherent silliness of the mockumentary format and the often-absurd situations the characters find themselves in, creates an interesting tension. It suggests a desire to move beyond superficial stereotypes and explore the dedication required at this level.
The relationship between Courteney and her husband, Boone, played by Taran Killam, offers a glimpse of the warmth that *Stumble* is striving for. Their dynamic, reminiscent of the beloved coaching couples in *Friday Night Lights*, showcases a refreshing portrayal of partnership and mutual support. These moments, where they affectionately address each other as "coach" even in private, feel like genuine anchors in the show's more chaotic moments. It’s in these quieter, more grounded interactions that the show hints at a deeper emotional core, suggesting that beneath the gags and the underdog narrative, there’s a human story trying to emerge.
However, some of the comedic choices feel a tad labored. The reliance on forced plot devices, like blurring out innocuous toys due to trademark concerns, feels like a narrative shortcut, pulling the viewer out of the immersive experience the mockumentary format aims to create. It’s in these moments that the show feels less like an organic portrayal of life and more like a collection of jokes being assembled.
Ultimately, *Stumble* is a show in its nascent stages, much like its titular cheer squad. It’s grappling with its identity, trying to balance sharp humor with heartfelt sincerity, and navigating the complexities of the mockumentary genre. The ambition is evident, the cast is trying their best to make it sing, and there are flashes of brilliance. But whether it can truly find its footing and transform from a promising concept into a consistently engaging series remains to be seen. As the season progresses, will the characters develop the depth that allows us to truly root for them, or will the show forever be defined by its title?
