top of page
Writer's pictureS.J.

'Sunny' season 1 review: Apple TV+ mystery dramedy with Rashida Jones chats with a bot


Rashida Jones sitting on a couch, holding a glass of wine with a robot next to her
Apple TV+

People are nowadays clamouring for two things: no more merciless killing and more half-hour dramas on our TV screens. The new series Sunny has arrived to help our anguish in regard to one of those two problems, mixing ingredients of mystery drama, dark comedy, yakuza films and sci-fi into the dish of miso soup that it is serving. Rashida Jones stars as Suzie Sakamoto, an American-born woman living in neo-futuristic Kyoto, whose husband Masa (Hidetoshi Nishijima) and son Zen (an uncredited actor) board a flight that ends in a crash, although their bodies are never recovered.


Whilst dealing with both grief and uncertainty, Suzie receives a talking home robot called Sunny (voiced by Joanna Sotomura) as a gift from Masa and his robotics company, which comes as a surprise for Suzie since she is unaware of his work in said field and is also untrusting of this technology. Suzie, accompanied by Sunny and new human pal ''Mixxy'' (annie the clumsy), finds herself on a path to learn more about Masa's secretive life, including his possible ties to a local yakuza syndicate, and what may have happened to him and Zen. Along for the ride are also Suzie's mother-in-law Noriko (Judy Ongg) and Yuki (Jun Kunimura), a roboticist and Masa's acquaintance who initially delivers Sunny to Suzie.


Not only is the runtime and overall pace enticing, but the show in general gets off to a flying start despite wallowing in rather familiar waters of grief, dead partners and fish-out-of-water type of situations. Under the command of director Lucy Tcherniak at first, the visual palette and energy of the scenes impressively juggle the many genres and tones that you're confronted with, making bold stylistic choices pretty constantly in all ten episodes. Cosy indoors, vibrant outdoor sets and a little bit of quirky world-building (production design by Shinsuke Kojima) together with some wild camera techniques (cinematography by Larry Smith) help to set the stage for competing extremes (drama versus comedy, east versus west, dull domestic life versus dangerous crime syndicates, humanity versus AI) that Sunny is scrutinising.



On the page, showrunner Katie Robbins and her writers' room (including Aja Gabel) attempt to tackle adult loneliness, cultural differences and communication in a marriage in addition to aforementioned grief, adapting Colin O'Sullivan's novel 'The Dark Manual' in the process. More often than not, they're going the paint-by-numbers route, specifically when it comes to Suzie's internal movements and dialogue, Mixxy as a buddy cop accomplice and Sunny the character disrupting everything. Where the series finds real pathos is in the portrait of loneliness because it marries the relatable human drama with absurd comedy quite beautifully, particularly in the latter half when Suzie is realising how guarded she has been and when Nishijima gets to play a bigger part during flashbacks, episode eight emerging as the crux thanks to that.


Jones is a reliably solid lead for the show as she fares well with the dramatic parts—her more comedic moments are less effective since Suzie and Mixxy's buddy comedy routine tends to hit flat notes—although it's also absolutely fair to say that Analucia McGorty's outstanding costume design is an equal partner in that performance. Everyone in the show is dressed immaculately but Suzie's subconscious desire to be truly seen is evident thanks to the fabrics and shapes she wears. But it is Nishijima who executes the hardest stunt. Being the dead partner flopping around is often a limited role but the actor elevates it by adding layer after layer even when the scene doesn't require it. Masa is charming, romantic, mysterious, open, attentive or distant depending on the situation, which is just forever captivating to watch. At times, you actually wish that this would morph into a pure romantic comedy when Nishijima and Jones tap into that mode.


While the latter two thirds of season one lets some of the cast do a bit more (Kunimura being one of the beneficiaries), the visual style also fluctuates somewhat and the writing keeps piling mysteries and dozens of character quirks on top of everything else until Robbins and the rest can not keep the boat afloat anymore. Episode five is a low point in that regard with its two-women-lost-in-the-wilderness storyline (classic filler material that's made a real comeback this year in the TV landscape), plus the writers are so clearly disinterested in Suzie and Masa having a kid that the exploration of her passive motherhood later hits a dead end real fast. Maybe it's there for some emotional manipulation but even the answers to the mystery of what really happened feel anticlimactic, much like the extremely ugly, fully CGI final shot that is a bizarre choice for a show that can do so much with so little, too.



Those wasted opportunities on the page might be the reason why it's slightly difficult to retain anything from the series afterwards, other than the amusing idiosyncrasies that you sometimes get. Is it perfectly enjoyable and watchable? Yes. Is it worth your time? Sure. Will it be something that you'll regularly think about three weeks from now? Not really, no. But hey, that's okay.


Smileys: Costume design, Hidetoshi Nishijima


Frowneys: Writing


The ski resort called, said they need their size 17 ski boots back, Suzie.


3.0/5


Where to watch:






This article may contain affiliate links, which means that we may earn a commission if you make a purchase through these links. Thank you for the support!



After Misery's logo with the text ''all things film & television'' underneath it.
bottom of page