Get ready to cringe, laugh, and question everything—because Tim Robinson is back, and he’s bringing his uniquely unhinged brand of comedy to HBO with The Chair Company. But here’s where it gets controversial: Is Robinson’s humor genius, or is it just plain uncomfortable? Love it or hate it, you can’t look away.
In the opening sketch of his cult hit I Think You Should Leave, Robinson sets the tone for his comedic style. He plays a man who, instead of simply pushing a door meant to be pushed, insists on pulling it—and doubles down on his mistake to absurd, self-destructive lengths. This refusal to admit fault, even in the face of utter humiliation, is the cornerstone of Robinson’s humor. It’s not just about the joke; it’s about the cringe, the squirm, and the undeniable relatability of human stubbornness. And in The Chair Company, he stretches this premise to its limits across eight half-hour episodes.
The Bottom Line: Uncomfortable, unsettling, and undeniably funny.
The Chair Company kicks off with a seemingly trivial office mishap—something so minor, most of us would brush it off by the next day. But not William Ronald Trosper, or “Ron,” as he’s known. Ron, a quintessential Robinson character, takes this tiny embarrassment and spins it into a grand conspiracy, convincing himself he’s the hero destined to expose it all. Sound familiar? And this is the part most people miss: Ron isn’t just a caricature; he’s a funhouse mirror reflecting the insecurities and impulses we all try to hide. Who hasn’t fantasized about revenge for a petty slight or reimagined their failures as epic triumphs?
Ron’s world is as drab as it is bizarre. From socially awkward nerds taking “life of the party” classes to a henchman who finds solace in X-rated radio rants, the show’s supporting characters are as offbeat as Ron himself. Even the seemingly put-together CEO, Jeff (played by Lou Diamond Phillips), is one embarrassing moment away from unraveling. But here’s the twist: Ron might actually be onto something. As he chases leads and ignores his crumbling personal life, he’s met with eerie coincidences and obstacles that feel both menacing and absurdly mundane.
The conspiracy at the heart of the show is murky, convoluted, and almost beside the point. What matters is how it propels Ron into increasingly ridiculous situations—nonsensical arguments, awkward brawls, and interactions with characters who seem like aliens trying (and failing) to mimic human behavior. It’s this blend of cringe and absurdity that makes The Chair Company both challenging and irresistible. But here’s the question: Is Ron’s obsession a reflection of our own tendencies to overthink and overreact, or is he just a cautionary tale of self-destruction?
For fans of Robinson’s brand of weirdness, The Chair Company is a bracing ride. For everyone else, it’s a thought-provoking—if uncomfortable—exploration of human folly. Either way, it’s impossible to ignore. So, what do you think? Is Ron a hero, a fool, or a little bit of both? Let’s debate in the comments.
