“What’s bad for America is good for Party Down!”
Over a decade ago, Bolus Lugozshe (Michael Hitchcock) coined this impromptu slogan for Party Down, the Los Angeles catering company he owned. But the quip doubles as a motto for Party Down, the beloved cult sitcom that followed the titular crew from gig to gig. Thanks to its Hollywood setting, Party Down belongs to the evergreen genre of show business about show business; its characters, a mix of actors, comedians, and writers, are strivers gnawing at the edges of an unforgiving industry. But despite the enduring setup of its story, Party Down also belongs to a specific time and place. Premiering in March 2009, the series mined pitch-black humor from underpaid service work, capturing a snapshot of America in the throes of what we now call the Great Recession.
Party Down is a perfect time capsule, but if it has to come back, now’s a pretty good moment to do so. We may or may not be on the verge of another recession, though mass layoffs have certainly come for the sector that serves as Party Down’s backdrop. The inequality so acutely illustrated by pink-bowtied staff waiting on wealthy clients has only gotten worse. And we’re still sorting through the fallout of a global pandemic, another seismic event that scrambled the entire economy—especially restaurants and their close cousin, catering.
All these outside circumstances make Party Down a better, if bleaker, fit for a revival than many projects powered by our current wave of nostalgia-driven IP. The arrival of Party Down Season 3, which premieres the first of six episodes this Friday on Starz, is inherently bittersweet. Yes, it’s exciting to once again spend time with this particular cast of characters: Henry (Adam Scott), the failed actor who decides the only dignified choice is to give up on his dream; Roman (Martin Starr), the “hard sci-fi” screenwriter with a very prestigious blog; Lydia (Megan Mullally), the momager who can’t stop oversharing about her awful divorce. But if any of these people are still working for Party Down more than a dozen years down the line, something has gone terribly wrong with their lives. Even Ron (Ken Marino), the self-important team leader of the company, had higher ambitions than assembling hors d’oeuvres for all eternity.
At least things have objectively improved offscreen, a trajectory that partly factored into Party Down’s early demise. Jane Lynch, who played the relentlessly upbeat actress Constance, left for Glee, where her turn as Sue Sylvester became the stuff of legend(ary memes). Scott joined Parks and Recreation, starting an ascent that’s since led him to Big Little Lies and the buzzy thriller Severance. Cocreator Paul Rudd, whose stint as a DJ for hire helped inspire Party Down’s concept, was already too busy to play Henry in the late aughts; now, he’s Ant-Man. Lizzy Caplan was too occupied with a different kind of middle-aged ennui to reprise her role as Casey Klein, a comic who’s also Henry’s love interest. But while Caplan’s absence is conspicuous, it’s also in the spirit of the original—it’s no more glaring than when Jennifer Coolidge swapped in for Lynch in the homestretch of Season 1.
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The rest of the roster, as well as showrunner John Enbom, is present and accounted for—plus some A-list newcomers like Jennifer Garner, which speaks to how Party Down’s cultural footprint has only grown post-cancellation. (As projects like Arrested Development and Twin Peaks have shown, yesterday’s micro-niche is today’s sure bet.) And despite the dark implications of a Party Down preserved in amber, the initial occasion for the reunion is a happy one. Dimwitted actor Kyle (Ryan Hansen) has landed the lead in a superhero movie, so he’s hired Party Down to help with the celebration and invited the rest of his former coworkers as guests. The setup is a direct callback to a Season 2 episode in which Roman’s former writing partner commissions Party Down as a petty act of revenge, rubbing his success in his ex-collaborator’s face. Roman, it turns out, is still around, leaving Kyle free to hit the same nerve.
The bit is a preview of the new Party Down’s self-referential streak. Roman now has a very prestigious vlog, having taken his talents to YouTube and acquired an audience; after the gang worked a College Republicans meeting in Season 1, they now take a job with an even more obnoxious group of young conservatives. It’s an interesting tack for a show whose protagonist, Henry, has spent years trapped in the shadow of his only iconic performance. (He’s constantly getting recognized for his appearance in a beer ad, then having the punch line quoted back to him: “Are we having fun yet?!”) A season as cynical as Party Down’s first iteration might turn this into a meta commentary on Hollywood’s addiction to old material, or just an observation about its characters’ eternal ruts.
But at least in its first five episodes, the 2023 version of Party Down is a little lighter in its tone. There are still inside jokes at the entertainment industry’s expense, updated to keep up with the times: Garner plays a producer of brainless blockbusters, while new Party Downer Sackson (Tyrel Jackson Williams) is an aspiring influencer. Forget auditions; Sackson takes his ring light to work so he can film the latest TikTok dance in a rich person’s fancy bathroom. The sheer desperation of trying to make it has nonetheless eased into a more relaxed kind of resignation. That the stakes are somewhat lower helps explain the shift. When Henry does return to Party Down, it’s as a side hustle for some extra cash on top of a steady day job. He’s just dabbling in the void; he hasn’t been fully sucked back in—yet.
Party Down 2.0 is less wrenching, but no less funny. (Caplan’s exit may have altered the emotional balance; Casey’s on-the-job romance with Henry, which juxtaposed her frustrated ambition with his walking away from his own, gave the first two seasons some heft.) The guest stars, a mix of career comedians and actors down to clown, are top-notch: James Marsden, Nick Offerman, Bobby Moynihan, Quinta Brunson, and Judy Reyes all make appearances. Zoe Chao joins the regular roster as a chef whose artistic integrity is antithetical to a mere passed app. Her “savory vapors” and “ambient cod fog” quickly put Chao on equal comic footing with the likes of Marino and Starr. With a cast this stacked, that’s an accomplishment in and of itself, if also a testament to the goofier, zanier vibe.
Ron remains almost impressively cringeworthy, a human-sized bundle of flop sweat and entrepreneurial incompetence. On the whole, however, Party Down seems so happy to be back that it’s not really concerned with the how or why. (Would Roman, whose vlog does well enough to buy him a certified pre-owned sedan, really bother keeping a minimum wage job with no benefits? Who cares—Starr’s Silicon Valley–honed deadpan justifies itself.) The pandemic does come up, as does the exploitative nature of Hollywood and catering alike. But when the gang decides to do ’shrooms instead of even pretending to care about the task at hand, it feels like a metaphor. We are, in fact, having fun (yet), even if the context isn’t ideal.