Loot season 2 review: Maya Rudolph's comedy is mostly here for a good time

Molly Novak (Maya Rudolph) is in love—and not with her douchebag, billionaire ex (Adam Scott). As art imitates life, America’s most adored jilted wife has fallen for a regular Joe: nerdy accountant Arnold (Nat Faxon), one of the many quirky but well-meaning folks who work at her foundation. In the attempt to get him alone and finally forge that love connection, she suggests a work retreat at her palace in Dubai. “Twenty-eight rooms, seven pools, and a full staff to cater to our every whim,” she gushes in Loot’s second season, which premieres April 3 on Apple TV+.

Everyone is excited, even the foundation’s morally scrupulous director, Sofia (Michaela Jaé Rodriguez). They don’t end up going, but it remains a startling moment in a show about non-profit good guys and their patron billionaire. Dubai’s labor abuses are notorious and well-documented, sometimes described as modern-day slavery, and this might be the only thing Americans know about the city (besides its obscene wealth). Why, in the process of her reputation management, has no one told Molly to sell this property fast and offer generous severance packages to her employees there? None of this is meant to fact-check or harp on what might be an oversight. But it puzzled us nonetheless.

But first, let’s back up: Last season followed spoiled, sheltered Molly from lovable train-wreck to respected activist-philanthropist. In this transition, she inherited a team of friends who had been running the charitable foundation in her name. In the season one finale, Molly stands up at the self-congratulatory Silver Moon Summit and speaks out against the super-rich’s hollow attempts to fix the world. “If we actually stopped to listen to someone who wasn’t in our bubble, they’d tell us that we are the problem,” she explains, concluding that “billionaires shouldn’t exist” and that she will give away her fortune over the course of her lifetime.

Season two begins with Molly still wealthy, still hilarious, and more confident than before. Sure, her love life isn’t great, and her ex is sniffing around for a second chance, having gotten bored with his young, sexy fling. But the foundation is thriving, with their new project, Space for Everyone, having made a considerable dent in Los Angeles’ real-life problem of homelessness.

The supporting characters have more robust storylines than before: Sofia and Arnold get new love interests, Howard (Ron Funches) begins a quest to find meaning and get out of debt, and Nicholas (Joel Kim Booster) is grappling with his toxic romantic patterns and his estrangement from his Korean roots. In veritable sitcom fashion, the main A-plot and secondary B-plot rotate character pairings, and some couples have more chemistry than others. Sofia is the toughest one to know, but her romance with a jazz-playing designer allows Rodriguez to show us more of her softness (and more of her killer pipes). Nicholas and Molly have a fun rapport, as do Arnold and Molly, who make a surprisingly hot couple.

The show’s not-so-secret weapon is that Maya Rudolph could, and probably does, have chemistry with a toaster oven. So, while it takes several episodes for the second season to gain momentum, Rudolph and her unyielding wacky charm keep the series chugging away. Take the made-to-be-viral moment when Molly tries to walk the runway. You might have seen this gag on Sex And The City, but you haven’t seen Rudolph do it. What’s more, Ana Gasteyer offers a winning late-season arc as Grace Fences, a fellow first-wife-turned-late-night punchline. Together, they invoke a specter of SNL power while showing you how far Molly has come. You, like us, might wish that Grace (and her boyfriend, DJ Pandahead) had more screen time.

Rudolph is so lovable—on her own or in various ensemble scenes—that you’ll forget to begrudge the extreme luxury she swims in. Her home makes the mansions in Selling Sunset look like garbage, while her trip to Iceland is postcard perfection. And of course, there are her colorful outfits, which look as though Lilly Pulitzer and Carmen Miranda birthed vivid, expensive offspring. Her silky, befeathered sleepwear is so joyful and luscious, you might wonder if it would really be that bad to marry, then divorce, Elon Musk. The show begins to tease at Molly’s weaknesses and shortcomings, namely her inability to manage her own loneliness and disappointment, but it never goes too dark or deep. Loot is mostly here for a good time, and while not every plot or punchline lands (one about the awkwardness of seeing your coworkers kiss feels prolonged), many of them do.

But it’s time to return to Dubai, a veritable Disney World for the global elite that is run by a mistreated class of workers. Loot has a heart, but where that organ lies is another question. More than the power of friendship, more than a workplace family, the show is an escapist love letter to capitalism. As one character sheepishly admits, “Sorry, Molly. I just love money.”

Molly has plans to give away her entire fortune, stressing to the public and the press that billionaires like her shouldn’t exist. She may say this, but the show is saying something very different. Such a fundamental disconnect did not plague Ted Lasso or Parks And Recreation, two shows to which Loot has been compared. Those sitcoms’ emphases on teamwork and the public good were baked in from the start, while Loot’s principled politics lie on top of its kicky premise like a set of Egyptian cotton sheets.

Loot is a good show, but that disconnect could keep it from greatness. After her divorce, Molly explains to Grace, “I discovered things about myself that I didn’t know, like that I can lead… and that I can create something for myself.” Here is hoping that Rudolph and executive producers Matt Hubbard and Alan Yang can lead us somewhere new in season three, both cool and warm, fun but a little complicated, and outside its self-imposed bubble.

Loot season two premieres April 3 on Apple TV+