It’s impressive how much tightening of the screws Santa Clarita Diet can pull off without losing its sense of humour. The Netflix comedy horror, which returns for S3 on March 29, always finds a way to keep the threat of danger and death hanging just above its characters’ heads, but even when things are at their worst, there is levity, warmth and – above all else – comedy just around the bend.
Santa Clarita Diet is the story of Sheila (Drew Barrymore) and Joel (Timothy Olyphant) Hammond, a married realtor (pronounced real-a-tor) couple coping with Sheila’s need to regularly consume human flesh after a bad batch of clams turned her undead. The mythology of the disease, which traces back to Serbia, includes such oddball components as a spider-like ball with legs (Mr Ball-Legs) and an order of Knights who are sworn to kill the undead. Add to these elements the regular strains of marriage, raising a strong-willed teenager, Abby (Liv Hewson), and remaining competitive with work rivals Chris (Joel McHale) and Christa (Maggie Lawson) and the result is a madcap mix of suburban satire, gross-out humour and a smattering of zombie tropes.
Season three picks up in the aftermath of a pair of significant events that occurred at the end of last season: Abby and her best friend / romantic interest neighbour, Eric (Skyler Gisondo) blew up a fracking site in an environmental protest and Sheila’s undead status was discovered and pronounced an act of God by local law enforcement officer, Anne (Natalie Morales).
After a brief opening in Serbia that introduces new antagonist Poplavić (Goran Višnjić), the action quickly returns to Santa Clarita. The early episodes are a turnstile of revolving conflicts: how best to use Anne, who is convinced that Sheila is a divine vessel that should be worshipped by a church of devotees; how long can Abby and Eric avoid discovery now that the FBI has been called in to investigate the explosion; will the area’s current Knights of Serbia representative, Paul (Zachary Knighton) and his sharpshooter brother Tommy, get the drop on Sheila and Joel? Each time the family accrues a minor victory, there’s a new disaster waiting around the corner to keep them on their toes.
The heart of the series remains the central Hammond threesome’s dedication to protecting their family. In the first half of the season, Abby is frequently kept apart from her parents as she and Eric navigate the inevitable will-they, won’t they romantic connection, which leaves Sheila and Joel free to focus on their own issues. While Sheila has adapted easily to her new lifestyle, the same cannot be said of Joel, who spent much of season two feeling overwhelmed and exhausted by the chaos of their new lives. This character arc continues to a lesser extent in season three, but Joel is clearly still adjusting to his altered position in the family unit.
A new wrinkle is Sheila’s realization that she’s now immortal, which naturally prompts a dialogue about whether Joel will consent to a bite so that they can be together forever. The idea of eternal life, which promises to be a major development over the season, is reinforced by minor subplots for supporting characters such as Sheila’s dying “meals on wheels” patient and the return of Joel’s unhinged friend, Ron (Jonathan Slavin), who becomes infatuated with the concept of becoming undead.
The horror elements have been dialled down quite a bit this season (in the first six episodes, Sheila only snacks on a few people), while the comedy – which really hit its stride in season two – remains the series’ best asset. Barrymore and Olyphant have great chemistry and their varied exploits, including the recurring personas that they adopt for various sleuthing, Belle and Sebastian, a brother/sister, nurse/doctor pair, is exactly the right amount of ridiculous. Barrymore’s obvious relish for acting naughty, especially in the moments when she lusts after various edible body parts, is highly enjoyable, but it is Olyphant who remains the series’ comedic MVP. His exasperated reactions and stressed-out binge eating is among the season’s highlights.
Abby and Eric’s fracking drama definitely feels more slight, and at times it even tediously pulls focus away from more enjoyable subplots. The two teens also have great chemistry, which tends to be enough to carry their storyline through the rough spots. Everything is better, however, when the writers play Hewson’s acerbic and deadpan quips against Gisondo’s eager, puppy dog delivery.
Unlike other Netflix series that overstay their welcome with extended episode lengths and saggy middle sections, Santa Clarita Diet thrives with expediency and comedic punch. The episodes clock in between 25-30 minutes and storylines rarely last more than two to three episodes before a new conflict or character is introduced to move things along. This proves helpful for those subplots that aren’t as enjoyable. For example, Morales’ Anne is earnest and gullible, but a little of the character goes a long way. In comparison the brief stopover of Ramona Young’s recurring undead character Ramona and a more prominent showcase in episode six for Eric’s mom, Lisa, played by Mary Elizabeth Ellis, feels just right.
On the whole Santa Clarita Diet remains as clever, funny and unique as ever. Season three is on par with the previous season, which isn’t a criticism so much as a complement about the series’ consistency. Santa Clarita Diet really upped its game in season two and that upward trend continues in season three. With a more pronounced villainous role for Višnjić on the horizon and a lack of comedy horror series on the air, Santa Clarita Diet is truly in a league of its own.
And that’s worth a celebratory snack of baby teeth with Mr. Ball-Legs.
“Santa Clarita Diet’s” third season is now streaming on Netflix.
