A brain expert on trust Based on the popular 2019 Psychiatrist Next Door podcast of the same name on Apple TV+, the true story of a stupid millionaire, the CEO of a fabric company in New York City, who becomes addicted to his personal therapist, who ends up taking his money, as well as the family home in the Hamptons, to his hands.
That's how journalist and podcast host Joe Nocera met the inseparable couple - Dr. Isaac "Ike" Hershkopf (Paul Rudd) was literally a psychiatrist living next door to Nochera, living in the house as if he were his property and de facto owner, but it belonged to his best patient, Marty Markowitz (Will Ferrell), who inexplicably moved into a guesthouse and mowed lawns for the doctor.
This toxic story began in the early '80s and continued for three decades until Markowitz belatedly got smart, severed the connection and sued the cunning shrink. Last spring, Hershkopf was stripped of his license to practice in New York for “violating professional standards in working with patients.”
Georgia Pritchett ("Vice President" and "Heritage") grabbed hold of this podcast and na-mountain wrote the script for Apple TV+, there is no author of the podcast and accordingly there is no third party trying to unravel this story, a strange decision, which means that the title of the series does not make much sense. But it's not the only creative solution that's controversial and doesn't work to the fullest. A portrait of the exploiter and the exploited - from Georgia Pritchett and comedy directors Michael Showalter and Jesse Peretz - "The Psychiatrist Next Door" is tonally shot down, leaving Rudd and Ferrell in the spotlight in a position where they are given the task of being both serious and funny at the same time, which rather does not benefit the story.
How much fun is it to watch a scammer manipulate someone who is unable to defend themselves? "The Psychiatrist Next Door" hopes your answer will be "very funny because it's starring Rudd and Ferrell," but there's one problem and that's how criminal it is. I think there is another method where famous comedians take on dramatic roles without losing their sense of comedy and absurdity. As I watched the series, I thought of Melissa McCarthy in 2018's Can You Forgive Me?, which is another true story of desperation and fraud. The whole film is stunning, a bit funny, a bit sad, a true memory of the literary Manhattan of the early 1990s.
In contrast, The Psychiatrist Next Door doesn't find the right emotional balance. Perhaps because the script does not aim to explore the inner state of its protagonists. What are Marty's aspirations? It is interesting to note that in real life, Marty is much lower than Ike. In the series, the opposite is when Ferrell towers over Rudd, which suggests that Ike's persuasion power stems not from impressive physical growth but from some inner strength of personality. Like many abusers, he is adept at isolating Marty from the people who care about him the most, including serious sister Phyllis (Katherine Khan, who plays especially convincingly when brother and sister are reunited 30 years later). Casey Wilson plays the role of Ike’s sweet but increasingly bitter and frustrated wife, and her hopes for their small family fade as she watches her husband try to dive into the celebrity world.
But it's primarily a Rudd-e-Furrell series, and they find interesting moments to play as a pair of Jewish guys from New York who "understand" each other in certain superficial but culturally specific ways, which may explain some of them. Marty's conscious addiction to someone who clearly used him to his advantage. Ike is just shrewd enough as a therapist - says enough insightful things, with enough emphasis, to seem plausibly competent. You can understand why he was able to get into people’s lives. He's a fun, friendly guy who believes in you and your worth. Money manipulation begins on their first meeting. But for someone like Marty, who was prone to shutting down at the slightest conflict, Ike's positive attitude and the promise of "I'll help you and it'll be fine" seems like a lifeline. Ike could have resorted to some therapy himself, but not that he would admit it; his problems involve meaningless symbols of status and wealth. Marty's money eventually pays for most of this neurosis.
But the series doesn't explore Marty's relationship to his own significant financial assets. At some point, his company needs a cash infusion of $20,000. Without it, they are forced to skimp on the fire-resistant fabric supplied for the Broadway theater, and Marty pretends there is no other solution, when in fact he has millions hidden in a Swiss bank account. It also seems obvious that no one is suggesting that sexism could have prompted parents Marty and Phyllis to leave their anxious son in charge of the marital fortune when he is clearly ripe for fraud.
How Ike easily establishes control over Marty's life, and why Marty was receptive to it, is a key element of it all. But the approach of the script and the series as a whole is strangely calculated. When Ike convinces Marty that a house in the Hamptons needs a brighter layer of paint, we get a scene in which they gallop with brushes in their hands to the 1988 pop song "Waiting For a Star to Fall," as if we were suddenly transported into a romantic comedy of the 80s. There's a total substitution, this scene shows two characters as a joke, one guy literally slaps the other in the nuts and . . . what's going on here? Should we take all of this seriously? It’s hard to say because funny jokes sometimes turn abruptly into moments that should cause alarm.
Despite this, Phyllis got the best replica of the series. At the beginning of the series, as her relationship with Marty deteriorates, she humbly shrugs her shoulders and utters the priceless truth: "That's what family is, a collection of people you owe an apology to."