“They spin off so fast,” Morty (Harry Belden) sighs of the latest visitors to the garage he shares with his grandfather Rick (Ian Cardoni). “I give it 10 episodes,” Rick replies.
The scene is an obligatory, efficient passing of the baton from the characters’ namesake show “Rick and Morty,” a juggernaut hit for Adult Swim now in its 13th year and ninth season, to its inaugural satellite. But the shared DNA is already evident. “President Curtis,” co-created by “Rick and Morty” collaborators Dan Harmon (also well-known for the cult hit sitcom “Community”) and James Siciliano, is another animated procedural that blends high concept science fiction with proudly juvenile — yet consistently sharp — humor. Keith David’s titular commander-in-chief is a recurring character on the flagship show, and there’s visual continuity between the two series’ dense jumble of 2D sight gags. “President Curtis” nonetheless announces itself as a spiritual sibling to “Rick and Morty” more in sensibility than canonical connections, to fans’ likely satisfaction.
“President Curtis” opens with a press conference in which our nation’s leader declares that “I killed Paul Bunyan today,” with David adding in his sonorous baritone: “Timber, bitch!” (A veteran voice actor, David has long had a gift for leveraging the assumed seriousness of his natural timbre for comedy. The same skill is utilized in live action on the FX crime series “The Lowdown,” among other projects.) The gag is an early indication of a slight preference for the supernatural over the aliens and interdimensional creatures of “Rick and Morty,” though rest assured our protagonists do make the occasional trip to space. They just also interface with vampires, witches and werewolves on a regular basis, as one does when attempting to lead the free world. “We don’t tattle,” one character lectures another. “We’re grown-ups — we fight ninjas!”
Curtis’ trusty aides-de-camp in this enterprise are his new chief of staff Banks (Stephanie Beatriz), a cyborg given to overriding her own self-imposed ethics protocols, and Special Agent O’Doyle (“Community” alum Jim Rash), a Secret Service member who also happens to be half leprechaun. Every episode, the trio confront a new threat that has nothing to do with bo-ring agenda items like reducing the deficit, from investigating escapes at a “paranormal Guantanamo” to locating Napoleon’s mummified penis so France can’t undo the Louisiana Purchase. (Just roll with it.) The chair of Curtis’ unidentified political party may complain that her organization “doesn’t care about you kicking Mothman into high-voltage fencing” while inquiring after an infrastructure bill, but both the show’s priorities and ours are the inverse.
Inventive and breathlessly paced, “President Curtis” brings the “Rick and Morty” ethos quite literally back to Earth, where there’s less head-spinning, stakes-nullifying multiverse material. We’re mostly dealing with one version of Curtis, Banks and O’Doyle, which proves more than enough given all they have on their plate — like keeping the CIA from learning the truth about the moon landing. (The Curtis administration is the stuff of conspiracy theorists’ fantasies or nightmares, depending on one’s point of view.) But “President Curtis” also starts in the place “Rick and Morty” came to only gradually, after the early seasons pursued a more serialized story about Rick, an arrogant absentee father whose only sacred ideal is his own genius, reconnecting with his family.
Over time, “Rick and Morty” largely abandoned, or at least became much more sporadic with, thematic heft and canon-advancing events as its focus turned to sustainable longevity. From the start, however, “President Curtis” is relatively light on emotional stakes. Curtis is divorced, and still carries a torch for his ex-wife (Kelsey Scott) — now the governor of Illinois and architect of an innovative monster rehabilitation program with the Candyman (as in the movies) its star participant. But the president’s love life is deployed more as a background character detail than a driving force of the overall story.
Instead, “President Curtis” is more comfortable as a vehicle for game guest stars (like Kristen Schaal as a seemingly immortal Amelia Earhart), pop culture allusions (Anne Rice and Us Weekly enter the lexicon) and whatever elaborate bits the writers can come up with. The main cast and the domestic focus may be new compared to “Rick and Morty,” but the general feeling is the same. This means “President Curtis” delivers more on dependability than strict innovation, though that may be what both viewers and a parent corporation looking to beef up its IP reserves on the cusp of a potential merger want. Rick Sanchez is a kid’s fantasy of a zany, indulgent grandpa; President Curtis self-describes as “America’s cool dad.” It doesn’t take a Rick-level genius to see the parallels.
“President Curtis” will premiere on Adult Swim on July 26 at 11:30 p.m. ET, with remaining episodes airing weekly on Sundays and available to stream on HBO Max the next day.
English (US) ·