We’re in an era where audiences are so starved for romantic comedy outside of cutter-cookie Hallmark schmaltzfests and algorithmic Netflix originals that Anyone But You grossed more than $200 million. Yes, that truly obnoxious Much Ado About Nothing reimagining which asked us to a) believe two leads photogenic enough to have just stepped off a Parisian catwalk were eternally unlucky in love and b) overlook how their inherent self-obsession essentially hijacked their mutual friends’ dream wedding. That Anyone But You.
Small screen sitcom Colin from Accounts is, like Anyone But You, also set in Sydney and features an adorable dog. But as anyone who watched its glorious first season will already know, that’s where the similarities end. Charming, funny, relatable, heartfelt, logical, and not relying on a 20-year-old Natasha Bedingfield song for an emotional crux, it’s very much the anti-Anyone But You. And its return to Paramount+ on Sept. 26 again highlights how the rom-com has recently been so badly underserved.
We last saw on/off couple Gordon (Patrick Brammall), a fortysomething, testicular cancer survivor who proudly runs a local craft brewery, and Ashley (Harriet Dyer, last seen in canceled-before-its-time American Auto), a millennial trainee nurse as acerbic as she is insecure, recognizing they needed to give things another go. Perhaps even more importantly, they also recognized they needed to retrieve the titular, wheelchair-bound border terrier who brought them together.
Picking up soon after, the second season premiere shows their reconciliation has gone smoother than their pet rescue. With Colin’s new adoptees determined to hold onto the pooch they’ve rechristened Pepe, his previous owners are forced to stalk him from afar, later adding forgery, bribery, and attempted kidnapping to their list of crimes before finally getting him back (with a little help from someone they’d rather not be helped by).
As he should, Colin gets plenty of time in the spotlight: a hilarious failed audition for an insurance commercial, for example, where Gordon shows off his fluency in doggie talk in front of a rival named Bark Ruffalo. But Colin from Accounts is the type of sitcom where you come for the cute canine and end up staying for possibly the most nuanced, authentic, and continually funny depiction of a courtship recently committed to screen.
That’s no doubt a byproduct of Brammall and Dyer’s true-life connection. Married for three years, the co-creators, co-writers, and co-stars naturally share an easygoing chemistry, which makes every interaction, whether a heated argument or mundane small talk, feel unusually authentic. Who knows how much the pair drew from their own lives? But candid conversations on porn habits, sexual health, and the window when mild annoyance becomes acceptable feel like you’ve been given permission to eavesdrop on the inner workings of a very real relationship.
Some of their funniest moments are the most inconsequential. The natural banter that plays over each end credits sequence. Ash’s exasperation when Gordon reveals his favorite type of music is “bubble grunge.” The discussion about how to define their current status in today’s modern lingo where Ash dryly suggests “stepping about the town.” Such lines might not seem like comic gold on paper, but thanks to the pair’s effortless timing, they genuinely become laugh-out-loud funny.
The second season certainly doesn’t make things plain sailing for the couple, though, dropping in a blast from Gordon’s recent past determined to throw a spanner in the works and an impromptu visit from his knuckleheaded, tenuously nicknamed brother Heavy (Justin Rosniak), who opens up a whole can of worms about sexual math. “I don’t know the exact number, I’m not a serial killer,” Gordon remarks defensively after being quizzed about his “creepy-adjacent” womanizing days.
Season 2 also plays a little looser with the format to great effect. The fifth episode skilfully splits Rashomon-style into two, first tracking an increasingly concerned Gordon when Ash fails to show up for their planned BBQ date, then switching to her perspective for a darkly comic night from hell, which threatens to veer into outback horror. Then there’s the series standout, a jaunt to Gordon’s wretched stuck-in-the-’80s family that leans into the show’s knack for cringe comedy (“My boys normally go for busty girls,” his mum tells Ash, also later arguing there’s a correlation between flu shots and homosexuality) before delivering an emotional gut-punch.
Both are prime examples of how the show continually subverts the usual rom-com tropes and steadfastly refuses to paint its lovebirds as one-dimensional. Gordon and Ash are both inherently likable individuals, but to use the latter’s insult of choice, they can also be ‘f—wits,’ too. The former is particularly lily-livered during his homecoming, allowing his ghastly father to be wildly inappropriate toward both his new beau (“I thought you said she was fun, I haven’t seen a single nipple”) and disabled dog (“I would have shot it in my day”) without any pushback. Ash’s accidental road trip, meanwhile, shows that while she’s typically an upstanding member of society, she’s not averse to stealing succulent Chinese meals and verbally abusing cops, either.
Although the show is never quite as compelling when our heroes aren’t the center of attention, the second season does draw plenty of comic mileage elsewhere. Ash’s passive-aggressive mother Lynelle’s (Helen Thomson) new venture WAWAM (Women Against Women Against Men) is a clever skewering of the anti-woke movement, instigated by her terminally lecherous other half Lee (Darren Gilshenan). While Virginia Gay and Aunty Donna’s House of Fun’s Broden Kelly battle it out to steal the fourth episode; the former as the insufferable new girlfriend of Ash’s colleague Megan (Emma Harvie) with a sociopathic aversion to the truth, the latter as a douchey climate change-denying bro interested in buying Gordon’s business (“I’m security, you’re a terrorist. And I’m letting you in to blow some s–t up”).
Less interesting, however, is Chiara’s (Genevieve Hegney) brief dalliance with lesbianism, which concludes so abruptly you’ll wonder if you’ve missed an episode. Likewise, Brett’s (Michael Logo) arrested development issues (despite the use of a literal Cameo from Kevin Bacon) and his slimy lawyer whose ‘cocaine charcuterie’ leads to several minutes of self-indulgent babble.
But Colin from Accounts largely understands its rom is as integral to its success as its com. Which other modern-day love story could present getting an STD test as the height of affection with such utter conviction? It also understands relationships don’t need to fall into the chocolate box mold or overcome contrived obstacles to enthrall. Gordon and Ash can be messy, offhand, and even occasionally toxic toward each other. Yet unlike the AI dialog-spouting, Blue Steel-posing leads that seem to populate the genre these days, you’re always rooting for the dysfunctional dog parents to work things out.
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