A Buddy Comedy With Heart

I WOULDN'T WISH on anyone the narrative dilemma facing the writers of United States of Al. The CBS show is a buddy comedy about a young Afghan man who finally gets a visa to come to the U.S., thanks to a Marine, Riley, for whom he was an interpreter during the Afghanistan War, whose life he saved, and with whom he’s living in the States. But United States of Al’s second season, with an Oct. 7 premiere, may need to encompass even more grief than its predecessor. The U.S. has withdrawn from Afghanistan, and the Taliban has taken over. We’ve seen the video of Afghan people trying to hold on to a U.S. military plane as it takes off, the clip ending right before some of them fall. Human remains were later found in the plane’s wheel well. What will happen when United States of Al’s protagonist sees that video?

I’m reminded of a season one episode in which Awalmir Karimi, nicknamed “Al,” can’t get in touch with his family, who still live in Afghanistan. Their silence is like that which surrounds Riley’s sister, Lizzie, whose husband, another friend of Riley, was killed in the war. By the end of the episode, Al learns his family is safe (they had been out of touch due to a local power outage). He can relax.

I may not be able to sell United States of Al on its comedy chops, since it deals with issues such as Riley battling his “feelings crap” and suffering from tinnitus, which he doesn’t want to admit may be remnants from his time on the battlefield. It’s not that the show is always sad. It’s that it’s a classic CBS comedy; Chuck Lorre (Two and a Half Men, The Big Bang Theory) is an executive producer. It’s formulaically funny, and there’s a laugh track.

The show has heart, though: Its characters—from Vanessa, Riley’s ex-wife, to Art, Riley’s veteran father—care deeply for each other, and their love makes the show hard to turn away from. The show has been criticized for what some call stereotypical portrayals, but the writers’ room of seven includes four writers with Afghan roots. Al is played by an actor of Indian and South African descent, not Afghan. But, religion scholar and show producer Reza Aslan defends the choice: “There are five Afghan characters in the show and four of them are played by Afghans.” And why is Awalmir’s name shortened—to make his character more palatable?

The show’s creators have addressed the concerns—perhaps not adequately enough for detractors, but the show goes on. Awalmir will render onscreen some of the devastating pain the Afghan writers of United States of Al have had to relive offscreen.