HBO’s ‘High Maintenance’ Isn’t Your Typical Stoner Fare (And That’s A Good Thing)

Some of the best comedies are ones that have you laughing, even when you shouldn’t be. HBO’s High Maintenance – the acclaimed web series from Katja Blichfeld and Ben Sinclair that’s now been lengthened to half-hour increments for cable TV – might be billed as a stoner comedy, but it’s hard to really stuff it into that box. The show, which follows a well-meaning weed dealer as he interacts with his often affluent, Brooklynite clientele, is more harsh than mellow; less a rib at laughable laissez-faire drug use, more a completely honest look into the downside of “getting high.”

It’s what makes it stand apart from shows like Broad City or Girls — series that often glamorize or at least make fun of drug use. An anxiety-prone 20-something uses cocaine in the bathroom; a millennial wanders the streets of New York City high on Vicodin and weed after dental surgery. Watching people get high on TV is almost always funny, except when it isn’t.

High Maintenance kicks off its HBO stint by continuing to do what it did so well online – character studies. But viewers who aren’t familiar with its history might be left reeling from its pacing. The show hits the ground running, following The Guy (Sinclair), a bearded, bicycle-riding weed dealer who fits the stereotypical weed dealer mold. He’s just here to chill and sell weed, not cause any problems.

His interactions with clients drive the plot forward – if there is one. His first trip to a bunch of guidos with a Vin Diesel fetish somewhere in Brooklyn ends much like you’d expect. It’s an amusing vignette into the life of a drug dealer. For some reason, there’s an expectation of friendship along with a bag of Mary Jane, and The Guy struggles to make a profit without putting in the effort of convincing his clients he likes them – he doesn’t.

We abruptly switch from comical drug deals gone wrong to Max (Max Jenkins), a gay man reduced to the stereotypical best friend role in his own life and rebelling against it. His roommate, and basic white girl tagalong, is every white-privilege meme come to life, so narcissistic and oblivious you cringe every time she mentions vodka tampons or bingeing Desperate Housewives.

Max goes along with his trope-ish existence until he meets a friend through a sex app, accompanies him to a drug recovery meeting for fellow gay men – because that’s preferable to hanging with his roommate – and fabricates his own sobriety tale. In these guys who struggle for acceptance and with their own addictions, Max finds community. His drug of choice isn’t meth, like he claims, but an abusive, toxic relationship.

High Maintenance is full of those kind of commentaries. A Muslim girl rebelling against her family, a Chinese man struggling to live with his son’s success. One episode is shown almost wholly through the eyes of a dog.

All of these combine to create a world and a group of characters who may be connected by their love of hash and their quirky drug dealer, but whose stories serve a funny, poignant, often meaningful purpose. After watching some shows try their hand at stoner comedy, it’s refreshing to see one commit to simple, compelling storytelling that’s both blunt and pretty smooth.

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