Kitty Flanagan has created something truly special with character Helen Tudor-Fisk and the way she navigates the mundane world of wills and probate law and the people around her.
There’s something so refreshing about Helen as a character. She’s not your typical sitcom protagonist; she’s a perfectly competent lawyer who’s slightly out of sync with everyone around her, and Flanagan plays her with a beautifully deadpan delivery.
Flanagan’s performance is flawless. She plays Helen with just the right balance of social awkwardness and deadpan confidence, making her simultaneously relatable and utterly unique.
Helen’s interactions with difficult clients and her attempts to navigate her colleagues and office politics feel so real you’ll definitely recognise people from your own workplace. Her attempts to maintain professionalism while surrounded by genuinely eccentric colleagues and slightly bonkers clients are an ongoing pleasure to watch.
The supporting cast is fantastic too, and each character is as endearing as they are odd.
Julia Zemiro is deliciously manipulative as Roz, and Marty Sheargold brings such earnest enthusiasm to Ray’s eternal optimism that you can’t help but root for him.
But Aaron Chen as George is my favourite of them all. He’s a delightfully awkward and adorable guy whose role in the firm is never quite clear – least of all to him as he bumbles around the office.
One thing I love is that none of these characters feel like comedy stereotypes or tropes – they’re all just slightly heightened versions of people we all know.
One of the things that makes Fisk so endearing is how gentle it is with its characters. The writing is smart, finding humour in small, relatable, everyday moments without punching down or making anyone the butt of cruel jokes.
It’s the kind of gently hilarious show that rewards patient viewers – jokes sometimes pay off episodes later, and character development happens gradually and believably.
Even when characters do ridiculous things, there’s warmth and affection underlying it all.
Don’t expect rapid-fire jokes or big set pieces in Fisk. Instead, the humour builds naturally from small, everyday frustrations and absurdities. Some are entirely predictable, and some take us by surprise, and both situations are a true delight.
If you’re tired of comedies that try too hard and you enjoy dry humour and character-driven comedy, Fisk is a comforting and rewarding watch. It’s warm, genuinely witty, and demonstrates that Australian comedy might just be at its best when it embraces the absurd, the quirky and the beautifully mundane.