Disenchantment review: Matt Groening’s fantasy spoof is not as magical as it should be This should be something special. So why does a sense of disappointment linger?

Given that Disenchantment is the first new series from Simpsons creator Matt Groening in almost two decades, it’s fair to say that a certain weight of expectation surrounds it.

Aiming perhaps to do for the world of fantasy what Futurama did for sci-fi, the animated comedy is set in the weird and wild Medieval-style kingdom of Dreamland, where genre expectations and clichés are skewered as swiftly as a knight in a tissue-paper suit.

Netflix, which has secured the show as an exclusive, is no doubt hoping to cash in on the pop culture clout of Groening. The Simpsons was at one time the most beloved show on TV, while Futurama’s devoted cult following ensured that it was revived not once but twice.

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However, on the evidence of its initial batch of half-hour episodes, Disenchantment has a long way to go to match the success of its hefty predecessors.

A larger-than-life trio

In Disenchantment, our heroine is the hard-drinking, gambling and brawling Princess Bean – who is far from your typical fantasy damsel. Though she is in distress.

Weary of the frustrating, limiting expectations placed on her (at one point she muses over how telling it is that the choice between dying and getting married is a difficult one), she strives to live her life the way she damn well wants to thank you very much. Even if that does mean landing herself in frequent high-jinks and danger.

Accompanying Bean on her adventures are a sweetly naive elf named Elfo and a deliciously dry, chain-smoking demon called Luci.

The dynamic between these three larger than life characters forms the heart of the show, and its comedy, but it is the scenarios and writing around them where the real acid test of potential lies.

Unfortunately, however, the writing is decidedly hit and miss, and it is this inconsistency which starts to tell. The first two episodes are hilarious, but Disenchantment swiftly defaults to ‘mild chuckle’ territory.

Prostitute fairies and sorcerer sex parties

With its copious sex jokes and literal gallows humour, this is clearly aimed at more of a teenage and adult audience than all the family.

Dreamland is a world of prostitute fairies and orgy-hosting court sorcerers. A land ruled by a King who talks (and acts) like an angry mob boss fused with a power-drunk tycoon, and a Queen who’s a cross between a vampire, a frog and a fish.

When the humour lands, it’s witty and rewarding.

There are call-backs, visual gags and moments where expectations or established tone are wickedly under-cut (the use of a cheerful Elf song at one inappropriate moment is laugh-out-loud funny).

We get subversive takes on pop-culture touchstones (a classic Disney moment recreated with a devoured corpse; a riff on Deliverance) and there are little hints of Monty Python too, such as the criminal gang who are keenly outspoken on gender issues.

Throw in some clever word-play (“use the force – use centrifugal force!”), and fun montages (Bean disastrously trying out a bunch of jobs), and the scene should be set for something special.

So why does a sense of disappointment linger?

This is not the first entertainment creation to spoof fantasy convention. Some have done so to iconic effect (the brilliant Princess Bride), and others to rather less fanfare (Your Highness)

Squandered potential

One of the key issues is that the scenarios and plots of episodes often feel surprisingly unimaginative considering the magical backdrop.

Disenchantment works best when embracing its fantastical possibilities, from a bloody war between gnomes and ogres that suddenly breaks out, to a fiendish spin on a classic fairytale where the victims are re-imagined as the villains. But such moments are strangely thin on the ground.

This squandering of potential extends to some of the characters too. Matt Berry’s princely suitor is a vain, self-absorbed and sex-obsessed nitwit who actually has much in common with Douglas Renyholm, Berry’s ludicrous boss character from The IT Crowd.

His floundering into completely absurd situations in the opening pair of episodes is a hoot. But the character disappears from the series for far too long, and there aren’t many other supporting players making an impression (though Noel Fielding also pops up to fun effect).

There are some dud episodes surprisingly early on too, which is probably not the greatest sign. The instalment where Bean becomes a carriage robber and burglar will likely test your patience, after the rollicking start.

Shades of The Simpsons?

The DNA of Groening’s previous creations is there, from the character design to the willingness to satirise various aspects of society. There are digs at religion (“how dare you bring logic into God’s house!”) and the class divide.

Bean burps like Homer Simpson, Luci has a sarcastic streak to rival Futurama’s Bender, and the royal household’s younger step-sibling is so similar to Ralph Wiggum it hurts.

The central trio – despite being exuberantly voiced by Abbi Jacobson, Nat Faxon and Eric Andre – are not yet as likeable as a certain dysfunctional American family, or Fry, Leela and the rest of the Futurama crew for that matter. But Bean works well enough as a rebellious anti-princess, while Elfo and Luci are a neat counter-balance to one another, and fulfill their sidekick duties nicely. Andre’s Luci, in particular, could well become a fan favourite.

Unfortunately, Disenchantment is not as endearing as the early Simpsons, and not yet as clever as Futurama at its height. But there’s time for it to come into its own.

A fading spell

At its best, Disenchantment is inspired, surreal and hilarious. At its worst, it’s bland and tedious – resorting to obvious, low-grade and one-note jokes.

Sometimes, a character might deliver a line intended as a big comic pay-off, and it just falls flat. You’re left wondering where the rest of the gag went. Where the actual layers of humour were.

When it falls back on trying to mine laughs from lazy stereotypes (e.g. swamp-dwelling yokels), or tired sub-plots (Elfo becoming romantically fixated on Bean), it’s hard to be impressed.

There’s also the nagging sense that while a lot of the comedy is deliberately too saucy for young kids, some of it feels far too childish for adults.

Disenchantment is fun and charming when it wants to be. It may even have the potential to become something special. But at a time when Rick and Morty has arguably raised the bar for how inventive and entertaining animated TV comedy can be, it’s neither consistently clever or funny enough as yet to reach those same lofty heights. And it might struggle to keep you under its spell.

Disenchantment is on Netflix UK from August 17.

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