Kate Hudson Unleashes Her Star Power on Netflix’s Running Point

As we continue to fret about the state of the American movie star, wondering where we let all the mojo go, one such figure is quietly making her way back into the spotlight—albeit through television. We all remember Kate Hudson, the Hollywood scion who rocketed to fame 25 years ago in Almost Famous (for which she was expected to win an Oscar, but lost in an upset; had she won, Hollywood history may have changed forever!). Eventually, she receded from the spotlight, seemingly of her own volition. She had businesses to run, children to raise; the rollercoaster of professional acting probably seemed less and less worth the risk.

Though Hudson never fully went away, her acting work slowed. But in recent years, Hudson has been popping up more frequently, suggesting she is perhaps ready for a full-time return. Exhibit A: her headlining role in a glossy new Netflix series, Running Point (February 27).

Hudson is firmly the lead here, playing the once daffy party-girl scion of a pro basketball dynasty who finds herself running the team after a family scandal. Coming from creators Mindy Kaling, Ike Barinholtz, and David Stassen, Running Point is mostly light and frothy, but it nonetheless gives Hudson juicier screen time than she’s had in years. It’s a pleasure to spend so much time with her.

As newly appointed, and newly ambitious, LA Waves CEO Isla Gordon—doubted by her male siblings but constantly surprising them with her crafty competence—Hudson is effervescent, reminding us yet again of her nimble comic prowess. The patter on Running Point is very Mindy Kaling—fast and referential—and Hudson maneuvers it with easy wit. It’s a joy to watch her quip and scheme. Hudson is a generous company woman, grooving on the show’s ensemble energy and letting her scene partners shine. But she also allows moments for the cameras to capture her singular star glow.

Gushy as that all may sound, it really is refreshing to see a performance so assured and winsome in this particular way: a smooth, almost old-fashioned professionalism that never shows an ounce of sweat. Running Point is resourceful in its use of Hudson’s charms, giving her a close-to-home role (Hudson, daughter of Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell, knows a thing or two about trying prove yourself in a high-profile family business) and then letting her flail and screwball around on nicely designed sets. Grit can come later, should Hudson decide to stick around in the acting world.

To Running Point’s credit, we don’t spend every minute that Hudson is off screen wishing she’d come back. Drew Tarver, late of The Other Two, is a sly hoot as Isla’s uptight gay brother Sandy, while Scott McArthur, late of The Mick, gives good shaggy dope as slovenly-but-sweet brother Ness. The sibling dynamic is credible enough for an airy and glancing sitcom like this, while each actor stitches their own distinct comic sensibility into the show’s gossamer fabric. Also surprisingly winning is Chet Hanks, himself a nepo baby trying to make good, as a vain and ridiculous star player on the team whose boorishness is regularly tempered by an oafish decency. Who knew that guy, of all guys, could be so strangely likable.

Running Point is generally easy to like, following an engaging narrative pattern familiar to anyone who has seen Entourage. Comparing any contemporary series to that creaky relic may seem a backhanded compliment at best. But Running Point successfully follows that old show’s episodic rhythm: a potential setback leads to a clever resolution which then leads to an unintended negative consequence that must be resolved in the next episode. Both series unfold against the backdrop of wealth and cultural power, which raises some of the stakes while comfortingly lowering others. What does any of this really matter when, in the worst case scenario, all these people wind up out of a job but still very rich?

There are romantic entanglements on Running Point, chiefly Isla’s dawning attraction to handsome Waves coach Jay (Jay Ellis)—despite her almost suspiciously doting husband, played by Max Greenfield, waiting at home. Sandy, meanwhile, has a secret boyfriend whom he does not want to expose to his noxious family. It’s a plot that is maybe a little too similar to the ones Tarver was served on The Other Two, but it’s endearing nevertheless. Tarver is adept at playing manic uptightness and frustration.

What counts for intrigue on Running Point involves the clan’s eldest brother, a secret drug addict who has flamed out but is conspiring to win back the throne. He’s played by Justin Theroux, who brings the only flecks of anything like darkness or danger to the series. Otherwise, Running Point merrily glides along on sturdy rails, its tart jokes delivered in bright staccato. The show’s affability could prove too cloying were it not for Hudson’s flintiness. Sure, she walks into glass walls and does other silly stuff—but it’s still Kate Hudson we’re talking about here, our casually cool Penny Lane. It’s a breezy delight to watch her. May she never leave us again.