There’s a new kind of comedy swirling through the airwaves this fall, and it’s as awkward, unsettling, and strangely captivating as the man at its center. HBO’s The Chair Company—co-created by Tim Robinson and Zach Kanin—premiered on October 12, 2025, instantly igniting buzz with its singular blend of cringe comedy and conspiracy thriller. The show’s eight-episode run, airing Sundays at 10 p.m. after the crime drama Task, has already earned a perfect 100% score on Rotten Tomatoes from 21 critics, an impressive feat for any new series, let alone one this offbeat.
At the heart of The Chair Company is Robinson himself, playing Ronald ("Ron") Trosper—a classic Robinson everyman, a Midwestern dad, and a corporate mall builder whose life unravels after an embarrassing incident at work. The specifics of this so-called "chair incident" are shrouded in secrecy; HBO has repeatedly asked reviewers not to reveal the details, lending the mishap an almost mythic quality. As The Atlantic notes, the network’s request feels like a conceptual prank, since the incident itself is so trivial that, to anyone but Ron, it would barely register. Yet, for Ron, it’s a catastrophe—a humiliation that consumes his every thought and soon spirals into something much larger and stranger.
Ron’s journey begins with a familiar emotional cocktail: shame, frustration, and a desperate need to be understood. As Vulture observes, Robinson has long excelled at portraying outsiders desperate for validation, and The Chair Company is no exception. But this time, the stakes are higher. Ron is convinced that his workplace embarrassment is not just a personal failing, but the tip of a deep criminal conspiracy. What starts as a series of increasingly unhinged emails to customer service—subject line: “PLEASE READ! VERY BIG PROBLEM!”—quickly morphs into a quest that puts his job, his family, and his sanity on the line.
Supporting Ron are a cast of eccentric characters that only heighten the show’s off-kilter energy. Lake Bell plays Barb, Ron’s patient but increasingly exasperated wife. Their children, Natalie (Sophia Lillis), who is preparing for her wedding, and Seth (Will Price), a high school athlete fielding college recruitment offers, round out the family. At the office, Ron faces Douglas (James Downey), an older coworker who tries to make the workplace "more fun"—to Ron’s horror, this means bringing a bubble blower to meetings—and Amanda (Amelia Campbell), a human resources nightmare who traps him in endless, pointless meetings. Lou Diamond Phillips appears as Jeff, the slick CEO, while Joseph Tudisco makes a memorable turn as Mike, a mysterious henchman whose role remains largely under wraps.
As Ron’s investigation deepens, the world of The Chair Company grows increasingly surreal. According to The Hollywood Reporter, the show’s universe is populated by oddballs: an acting coach squats in a student’s spare room, a henchman enjoys listening to men scream obscenities on the radio, and even the most mundane interactions take on an eerie, coded quality. In one scene, a clothing store clerk identifies a suspect by the strained buttons on his shirt, repeating the phrase "at his limit" in a monotone that feels like a secret handshake. The effect is a world that seems to be conspiring against Ron—or perhaps, a world that simply doesn’t care, leaving him to spiral ever further into paranoia.
Critics have praised The Chair Company for its originality and its fearless embrace of discomfort. ScreenRant’s Sarah Moran calls it "a conspiratorial thriller told through the lens of cringe comedy, and it’s a delightful combination." The show builds on the themes and tone of Robinson’s previous work—especially I Think You Should Leave—but stretches them into a longer, more ambitious narrative. Whereas Robinson’s earlier sketches were brief, disconnected bursts of awkwardness, The Chair Company sustains its tension over eight half-hour episodes, pulling viewers into Ron’s increasingly bizarre quest for vindication.
Yet, as many reviewers have noted, the show’s appeal is not universal. Robinson’s comedy has always been divisive, and The Chair Company leans fully into his signature style. The humor is uncomfortable, sometimes excruciating, and often pushes its characters to the brink of caricature. In the indie film Friendship, Robinson played a similarly obsessive protagonist whose antics teetered on the edge of lunacy—a tendency that, according to Vulture, is kept in check here by clever plotting and perfectly timed cliffhangers. Each episode ends with a twist or a revelation that pulls viewers back in, making it impossible to look away, no matter how much you might want to cringe.
Beneath the absurdity, The Chair Company taps into something deeply relatable: the fear of public humiliation and the longing to be taken seriously. Ron is the extreme version of someone who simply cannot let a minor embarrassment go. As The Atlantic puts it, "What’s important about ‘the chair incident’ is not what it is but how it makes Ron feel: humiliated, undermined, singled out." The show’s genius lies in making the audience feel that anxiety alongside him, transforming a trivial mishap into a full-blown paranoid thriller. By the time a goon emerges from the shadows to warn Ron to "knock it off," the stakes feel real—even if the conspiracy is, on its face, utterly ludicrous.
It’s this blend of the ridiculous and the profound that sets The Chair Company apart. HBO is no stranger to risky, experimental comedy—recent hits like The Rehearsal and Fantasmas have paved the way—but nothing else on TV right now feels quite like this. As Ron himself says midway through the series, "I’m doing something beyond what anybody could ever dream of." It’s a line that captures both the character’s delusion and the show’s audacity. No one else could dream up something this insanely funny, and no one else could make it work.
With its perfect critical score, offbeat energy, and unforgettable central performance, The Chair Company is poised to become a cult classic—if not a mainstream smash. For those willing to embrace its peculiar charms, it’s a wild ride worth taking.