From the moment it debuted in 2021, Only Murders in the Building has been the funniest show on television, and it retains that title in its standout fourth outing, which elicits more laughs than any small-screen comedy since last year’s installment.
There’s no doubt that Steve Martin and John Hoffman’s series has lost a bit of its originality, yet what it’s gained is a deeper familiarity with its characters and, with it, an ability to play off their traits in deliriously goofy and self-referential ways. Charmingly inventive, witty, and intricate, it’s a lunatic whodunit that—no matter the fretting of its heroes over their age—keeps getting better with each passing season, thanks to a perfect marriage of snappy writing, pitch-perfect performances, and, in this case, a who’s-who of hilarious supporting A-listers.
Per tradition, Only Murders in the Building, which premieres August 27 on Hulu, picks up where its prior finale left off, with Sazz (Jane Lynch), Charles-Haden’s (Martin) beloved doppelganger stunt double, dead from a rifle shot fired through Charles’ kitchen window. Except, however, that when Charles, Oliver (Martin Short) and Mabel (Selena Gomez) enter the apartment, there’s no body to be found.
Charles spends most of the premiere concerned about Sazz’s whereabouts, while Oliver copes with both the departure of his girlfriend Loretta (Meryl Streep), who’s moved to Los Angeles for a TV gig, and the cancelation of his Broadway extravaganza Death Rattle Dazzle, whose tenure on the Great White Way has ended because its producers are now standing trial for murder. Mabel, on the other hand, is most concerned with the fact that she’s homeless, jobless, and directionless, and pines for a purpose greater than merely making more podcasts with her best friends.
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Mabel jokes early on that, because of their podcast’s title, they have a “flaw in our business model.” What she doesn’t know, however, is that Sazz is yet another victim of murder in their building. Though it’s largely situated in its favorite environs, the Arconia, Only Murders in the Building relocates early on to Hollywood, where a text from Sazz indicates that she’s working with Scott Bakula, and where Paramount Studios bigwig Bev (Molly Shannon) wants to make a movie out of the trio’s show, since it’s “a hot piece of adaptable IP.”
To accomplish this, Bev has hired actors—Eugene Levy, Zach Galifianakis, and Eva Longoria—to play Charles, Oliver and Mabel, and this situation proves a vehicle for humorous ridicule of the story’s fictional protagonists as well as movie star egotism, with Levy, Galifianakis, and Longoria embodying droll caricatures of themselves.
Only Murders in the Building pokes fun at New York, clichés about the Big Apple, and the movie industry at large, even as it celebrates the silver screen in ways both big and small (including episode titles based on, clips from, and references to cinematic classics). At the same time, it has great fun messing around with the idea of doubling, from Charles and Sazz—who speaks to him as a ghostly figment of his subconscious—to the trio and their thespian mirror images, to the fact that Sazz may have been slain by accident; the real target of the sniper’s bullet, they soon theorize, was Charles.
Only Murders in the Building is thus a mystery in which Charles, Oliver, and Mabel must deduce both the identity of the killer and the person he or she was trying to off. This is a sturdy twist for Hoffman and Martin’s series, and more than enough to keep its energy high once it returns to Manhattan for more of its usual bonkers sleuthing.
As before, certain episodes are fixated on supporting characters, such as Sazz, who steals the spotlight in the second chapter. The proceedings spread the love around, all while prioritizing the testy rapport between its leads, who this time around are plagued not only by the homicide at hand (and their personal and romantic issues), but also by their movie-adaptation’s view of them—namely, that Charles is an “unfun uncle with his grouchy little turtle face,” that Oliver is someone that everyone wants to “strangle and cuddle at the same time,” and that Mabel is a traumatized “mumbling millennial.”
Into this mix, Only Murders in the Building adds a variety of subplots that function as clues (or clue-adjacent plot drivers), like Howard (Michael Cyril Creighton) wanting Mabel to work with him on his own podcast, “Animal Jobs,” that will highlight those like his own newly adopted cadaver dog, Grave-y (get it?).
It additionally introduces a gaggle of suspects—such as the movie’s writer Marshall (Pachinko’s Jin Ha) and its directors, the Brothers sisters (Catherine Cohen and Siena Werber)—who keep the material’s wheels spinning and satire sharp, and it indulges in numerous cameos from big stars who prove game to partake in its ridiculousness. None of those surprises will be spoiled here, but every one of them is a winner and contributes to the action’s zippiness.
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Despite having such an overstuffed cast, the chemistry is off the charts between everyone in Only Murders in the Building, which is a testament to its generous comedic spirit and the writing of Hoffman and his team. The standout, as always, is Short, whose Oliver remains a fount of endlessly riotous insults and asides about his triumphs, failures, and the show business acquaintances about whom he loves to name-drop. Short, Martin, and Gomez’s rapport is in tip-top form, and their willingness to be mocked as often as they do their own mocking is central to their, and the series’, likability.
Featuring multiple Oscar winners, box-office powerhouses, and fantastic character actors—like Richard Kind as one of the shady West Tower residents who become the targets of Charles, Oliver, and Mabel’s suspicions—Only Murders in the Building is an Agatha Christie-inspired playground for some of today’s finest funny people. No matter which way it zigs or zags, it’s a rat-a-rat-tat delight that’s as smart and silly as ever, and perhaps the greatest compliment I can pay it (or any other similar affair) is that it never fails to bring a smile to one’s face.
