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How does one even review “I Think You Should Leave”? I’m really asking, because I have no idea. It’s not that the show is above criticism, it’s that the series unfolds at such breakneck speed, overloaded with such lunacy, that it begins to overwhelm you. You have no choice but to sit back and laugh your ass off. I could tell you that the visual aesthetic of the show continues to bend and jump and alter itself depending on the sketch. I could tell you that the performers are all at the top of their game, including guest stars. I could say that returning favorites like Sam Richardson, Patti Harrison, and, yes, Biff Whiff, aka Santa Claus, aka Detective Crashmore, are all back and killing it.
But all of that is window dressing. What matters most is how you react to the madness on display from episode to episode. Game shows turn into screaming nightmares. A performer attempts to recreate silent movies on stage, only to enrage his audience. A woman gets in trouble for bringing her rats to work. A commercial for an automated dog door morphs into a story about fighting neighbors. A contestant on a dating show seems only to be there to use a zipline. A man plays a video game about an egg at work. And, in my personal favorite sketch from season 3, a character announces himself to be something called “The Driving Crooner,” which means he drives around with decals of a cigar and a hat on his window for … some reason. Why? I don’t know. No one knows.
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