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How Will "Shrinking" Season 3 Navigate LA's Wildfires?

An irreverent comedy about therapy is also a template for loss and healing.

Key points

  • "Shrinking" is a moving tribute to the talking cure.
  • In-person therapy can provide critical context that might be missed online.
  • True healing requires vulnerability and deep connection.

In the wake of the devastating fires in California, I’m reflecting on "Shrinking"—a show that, like the recent tragedy, grapples with loss, resilience, and the complex healing process.

Apple TV+’s "Shrinking" offers a bold, unconventional take on the world of therapy, blending humor and heart with a touch of irreverence. When the series first aired, it became a frequent topic among my therapy clients, prompting me to stream the first episode. Within minutes, I felt genuinely offended by its portrayal of my profession, yet I couldn’t stop watching.

https://youtu.be/YjHfjQDWl1A?si=RqfDHof9NPvzZqh8

Set in then-picturesque (now ravaged) Pasadena, the pilot introduces us to Jimmy (Jason Segel), the show’s protagonist and titular shrink. At three in the morning, Jimmy is snorting drugs by his kidney-shaped pool, while sex workers lounge afloat. Meanwhile, his teenage daughter, Alice, is asleep and neglected. It’s a chaotic and unflattering opening for a character who is supposed to be a licensed healthcare provider.

By morning, Jimmy’s recklessness continues as he stumbles into his therapist’s chair, hungover and visibly disheveled. He dispenses unconventional and belligerent advice, hardly a picture of professionalism. He boldly crosses boundaries by intruding on a client’s blind date to dispense obtrusive and unwanted dating advice. Next, Jimmy drags his client, Sean, a young veteran just home from Afghanistan, to a boxing gym encouraging him to channel his rage.

Initially, I couldn’t fathom why my clients were drawn to this portrayal of a therapist who seemed to mock the very foundations of the profession. But as I continued watching, my perspective shifted. Beneath its provocative surface, "Shrinking" reveals itself as a heartfelt exploration of therapy’s transformative power and the irreplaceable connections formed through in-person interactions.

Jimmy’s antics earn the nickname “Jimmying” among his colleagues, as his boundary-pushing behavior escalates. Sean eventually moves into Jimmy’s pool house, marking one of the most unprofessional dual relationships ever dramatized. Yet, as the characters evolve, the show’s deeper intentions become clear: a testament to the authenticity and humanity that underpin effective therapy—specifically, in-person therapy.

The heart of "Shrinking" lies in its depiction of flawed yet deeply human therapists. Harrison Ford’s Paul, the senior clinician at the Cognitive Behavioral Therapy Center, serves as both a mentor and a cautionary figure. While he criticizes Jimmy’s reckless choices, Paul himself becomes entangled in ethical gray areas, such as conducting grief therapy with Jimmy’s daughter, Alice, on a park bench in exchange for Skittles. Meanwhile, Jessica Williams’ Gabby struggles with boundaries of her own, babysitting a client’s newborn following a therapy session.

Despite their substantial imperfections, these therapists deliver profound insights and catalyze meaningful change in their clients. Paul poignantly observes, “You can’t just run away from your grief. You have to feel it, or it’ll haunt you forever.” His wisdom underscores the show’s recurring theme: True healing requires vulnerability and deep connection.

The show also cleverly critiques the limitations of telehealth. In one storyline, a client uses virtual sessions to hide the fact that she has returned to her abusive partner. This underscores how in-person therapy can provide critical context that might be missed online. Meanwhile, Gabby’s role as a visiting professor highlights the irreplaceable value of face-to-face interactions in education and mentorship.

Beyond its exploration of therapy, Shrinking thrives on its vibrant character dynamics and sharp humor. Each episode is filled with vulnerable, intimate, and often hilarious conversations that remind viewers of the importance of deep connections with friends and family. As a society still grappling with the psychological aftershocks of the pandemic, the show’s celebration of human imperfection and the healing power of relationships feels especially timely.

While its portrayal of therapy can veer into the absurd, "Shrinking" ultimately succeeds as a poignant and entertaining tribute to the talking cure and the messy, beautiful nature of human connection. I’m curious how season three will incorporate the devastation of the wildfires and expect they will do so with sensitivity and depth. With its mix of humor, heart, and authenticity, the series is a must-watch—and I’m eager to see them continue to build on its bold and thoughtful foundation.

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