I haven’t felt this kind of quiet, simmering anticipation for a comedy’s return since *The Good Place* was still dropping mid-season bombshells. Forget the high-octane dramas and the prestige limited series; sometimes, the most profound impact comes from the most unassuming corners. And for me, that corner, glowing with a soft, undeniable warmth, has always been Apple TV+’s *Trying*. After a two-year hiatus that felt like an eternity, Nikki and Jason are back for Season 5, and the conversation around its return is already declaring it Apple’s “best comedy of all time.”
Let’s be precise. Is *Trying* Apple TV+’s best comedy of all time? That’s a heavyweight title fight, squaring off against the global phenomenon of *Ted Lasso*, the sharp, industry satire of *Mythic Quest*, and the nuanced, grief-laden humor of *Shrinking*. Each brings its own unique flavor, its own dedicated fanbase. But *Trying*? *Trying* isn’t just a contender; it’s the quiet champion that consistently delivers a gut punch of relatability wrapped in genuinely laugh-out-loud moments. It’s the show that, for five seasons, has dared to ask the messy, uncomfortable questions about what it truly means to build a family, and it does so with an unflinching honesty that few comedies ever achieve.
**Spoiler-Free Verdict: WATCH IT NOW.**
If you haven’t been initiated into the world of Nikki and Jason, stop reading and go binge the first four seasons. Seriously. It’s a masterclass in modern romantic comedy and family drama, perfectly balancing humor and heart without ever dipping into saccharine sentimentality. Season 5 picks up right where the cliffhanger left off, throwing our beloved couple into their biggest challenge yet, and it manages to feel both fresh and comfortingly familiar. The stakes are higher, the laughs are sharper, and the emotional resonance is deeper than ever. This isn’t just a return to form; it’s a confident evolution of a show that knows exactly what it is and what it wants to say.
**The Undeniable Heart of Apple TV+**
Apple TV+ has carved out a distinct niche in the streaming landscape, often prioritizing character-driven narratives with a strong emotional core. While other streamers chase algorithms with endless IP and explosive spectacle, Apple has consistently bet on stories that feel *human*. As Matt Cherniss, Head of Programming for Apple TV+, stated in an August 2021 interview with The Hollywood Reporter, “We’re really trying to create shows that are optimistic, that have hope, that are aspirational, that have heart.” *Trying* embodies this philosophy perhaps more perfectly than any other show on the platform.
From its very first episode, *Trying* has been about the excruciatingly relatable journey of Nikki (Esther Smith) and Jason (Rafe Spall) navigating the labyrinthine process of adoption. It’s not about grand gestures or fantastical scenarios; it’s about the everyday grind, the bureaucratic hurdles, the emotional rollercoasters, and the unwavering belief that they are meant to be parents. Andy Wolton, the show’s creator and writer, articulated this universal appeal in a May 2020 interview with TV Insider: “I think the central premise is quite universal. It’s about two people who are really trying their best to do something quite difficult. And I think that’s something we can all relate to, whether it’s having kids or just trying to navigate life.” This foundational truth is what elevates *Trying* above mere sitcom status. It’s a mirror reflecting our own struggles, our own hopes, and our own deeply flawed but earnest attempts at getting it right.
Season 5 amplifies this “trying” ethos. Nikki and Jason are no longer just trying to *become* parents; they’re trying to *be* parents to teenagers, trying to maintain their identity outside of parenthood, and trying to keep their marriage intact amidst unprecedented external pressures. The humor stems not from outlandish situations, but from the simple, often awkward reality of two good people constantly just doing their best, and occasionally getting it gloriously, hilariously wrong. Whether it’s the excruciatingly polite attempts to integrate an unexpected new figure into their lives, or the utterly disastrous first days at new jobs, the show finds the comedy in discomfort without ever sacrificing the underlying warmth.
**SPOILER TERRITORY BEGINS HERE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**
The return of Kat (Charlotte Riley), Princess and Tyler’s biological mother, is the earthquake that Season 5 needed. It’s not a cheap dramatic trick; it’s a profoundly intelligent narrative choice that forces Nikki and Jason to confront the fragile ecosystem they’ve painstakingly built. The primary source mentions the immediate hostility between Nikki and Princess, and it’s handled with such a delicate touch. Princess, now a fully formed teenager, is grappling with her own identity and the feeling of betrayal that Nikki kept Kat’s presence a secret. It’s a brilliant move, shifting the focus from the adults’ desire for a family to the children’s complex needs and loyalties.
The show masterfully avoids turning Kat into a mustache-twirling villain. Instead, she’s a complicated, vulnerable woman who genuinely wants to reconnect with her children. This nuanced portrayal is crucial, because it forces Nikki and Jason, and by extension, the audience, to empathize with a situation that could easily be reduced to melodrama. The tension isn’t about good vs. evil; it’s about competing loves, competing needs, and the messy reality of blended families. The writing here is so sharp, allowing for moments of genuine warmth and understanding between Nikki and Kat, even as the underlying anxiety simmers.
This season, we see Nikki feeling like an outsider, a fear that Esther Smith herself touched upon in a May 2020 interview with Radio Times: “There’s a real fear of losing yourself in parenthood, especially as a woman, and the show doesn’t shy away from that.” Nikki’s new job in the travel industry, initially a source of excitement, soon becomes another arena where she feels out of her depth, especially when a charming new colleague (Colin Morgan) enters the picture. It’s not about infidelity, but about Nikki’s self-worth, her need to be seen and valued beyond her role as a mother. The show’s subtle visual language plays a role here too; there are moments where Nikki is framed slightly apart from Jason and the kids, a visual shorthand for her growing internal distance, only for them to deliberately close the gap in later scenes, signaling their recommitment.
Meanwhile, Jason, inspired by the inimitable Penny (Imelda Staunton, a national treasure who elevates every scene she’s in), embarks on a new path to become a social worker. This isn’t just a plot device; it’s a natural evolution for a character who has always been driven by empathy and a desire to help. His struggles in this new endeavor are, of course, ripe for comedic gold, but they also highlight his own identity shift and the quiet strength he brings to the partnership. Rafe Spall beautifully encapsulates this in his portrayal, as he told Digital Spy in May 2020: “It’s an incredibly honest show. It’s not cynical. It’s not trying to be cool. It’s just trying to tell the truth about what it’s like to be in a relationship and try to form a family.” That honesty shines through every awkward moment and every heartfelt conversation.
The show’s ability to tackle these weighty themes – identity, betrayal, the shifting sands of family dynamics – without ever losing its comedic footing is its superpower. Jokes land because they’re rooted in character and situation, not forced setups. The “awkward, sweet and deeply funny” first days at their new jobs are perfect examples, showing Nikki trying to navigate corporate jargon and Jason fumbling through social work exercises. Even Karen and Scott’s subplot, with Scott still rowing across the Atlantic, provides moments of absurd levity and genuine emotional connection. It’s a testament to Wolton’s writing and Jim O’Hanlon’s direction that these storylines, disparate as they might seem, all contribute to the overarching theme of change and resilience.
What truly makes *Trying* resonate now is its fearless exploration of modern anxieties. In an era where “perfect” curated lives dominate social media, *Trying* offers a refreshing antidote: a messy, imperfect, but deeply loving reality. It speaks to the fear of losing yourself in parenthood, the struggle to maintain a vibrant partnership when children become teenagers, and the inherent challenges of navigating complex family structures. It tells us it’s okay to feel overwhelmed, to make mistakes, and to constantly be *trying*. In a world that often demands perfection, *Trying* celebrates the beauty of earnest effort.
So, is it Apple TV+’s *best* comedy of all time? If “best” is measured by sheer number of awards or global recognition, *Ted Lasso* still holds that crown. But if “best” is defined by unwavering consistency, unparalleled emotional intelligence, and a unique ability to find profound humor and heart in the most mundane, human struggles, then *Trying* isn’t just a contender – it’s the undisputed champion. It’s not just a show you watch; it’s a show you *feel*.
**THE VERDICT:**
**WATCH** – 9.5/10. *Trying* Season 5 is a masterclass in understated comedy and heartfelt drama, proving that the most profound stories often come from the most ordinary lives.
