To get a series built around its principal character’s obsession with songs,”High Fidelity” produces some fairly frequent options. Since Zoë Kravitz’s personality Rob reflects on the character of romance, she plays with David Bowie’s”Modern Love”; believing on the defining relationship of her own life — today reasoned — she hears Sinead O’Connor’s”Nothing Compares 2 U.” And if, at the pilot, she rocks out with her two workers in the ultra-esoteric album shop she possesses, it is into the Dexy’s Midnight Runners cheesefest”Come On Eileen.” 

Perhaps 3 Brooklynites for whom songs represents not only pastime but individuality could go there . But a lot of”High Fidelity’s” tune options appear to signify a simple first idea (surprising, given that the fact that its audio oversight group comprises Questlove of the Roots). This works, marginally, to extend out”High Fidelity” — a land that started its onscreen lifetime as the story of an obsessive played with John Cusack (also called Rob) but finds its way to more general appeal narrating the obviously neurotic Kravitz character’s options. But in addition, it indicates”High Fidelity” does not have a profound confidence in what it is about, or to that which audience it may be intended.

The series, to its credit, seems great — put within an endless-summer Brooklyn of their brain, where pub, coffee shop, and vinyl purveyor, all scruffily however appealingly indie, will be the landmarks of notice. When Kravitz walks past a Starbucks, it seems jarring, and also like an incursion of corporate realism to an Eden. (Rob’s store, captured between Brooklyn’s future and past, appears to sit gentrification, a topic that haunts the series’s adorable filming places but is never produced text.) The series exists in a country of self indulgent fantasy — in the end, record shops have grown thinner on the floor because the movie”High Fidelity” premiered in 2000, also Rob’s shop, that sells vinyl and cassettes just and which will have more staffers than clients on assumptions (all the greater for banter) hardly looks like a development venture. This buoying mood of beautiful impossibility functions as a great counterpoint to Rob’s enjoy life, which is riven with debilitating mundanity — that the cycle of recriminations and angst at the long distance wake of a separation, a procedure she narrates to cam. 

All of that the series draws nicely, but somewhat too hazily. Summer’s gold dreaminess looks great over the low-slung streets of Crown Heights but does not leave too on a screenplay. To wit, here is Rob walking through a date:”We bond over books, TV, music, videos.” (Oh, right, people; I have bonded with folks within those also. Who has not?) She proceeds to mention “We say our shared remarks on Joan Didion, J Dilla, dubstep,’Escape from New York,”’ sports, Mexican food” All these seem randomly picked because signifiers of a particular creative-class boredom — that the author as renowned for her author-photo aesthetic as her job, a late artist and a genre to impress upon us that Rob does not only hear”Come On Eileen,” a self-consciously campy film selection,”sports” — rather than as matters Rob has an opinion whatsoever, shared or not any. 

Kravitz, therefore manifestly underused in”Big Little Lies” — a series whose next period guaranteed to foreground her found it had nothing to say regarding her personality — gets to perform direct, and she is a great one: Warm, natural if talking to camera, so inherently able to discover an inner logic to her personality’s dithering. However, the story needs more aid than Kravitz can give it, leaning on a rather straightforward and dull sort-of-love-triangle (she dominates her ex, who’s now engaged to somebody else) who wouldn’t exist without sorrow and quite incredible behaviour on the part of all celebrations. (Rob’s ex, played by Kingsley Ben-Adir, reluctantly hates Rob or behaves like a guy going to deceive with her, based on what the story requires that moment) Worst of all, there appears to be no inspiring force behind the narrative:”High Fidelity,” the movie, told a story of a guy whose fetish for collecting and cataloging supposed that, in love, he had been unable to be human and present. “High Fidelity,” the TV series, has made a character who enjoys music and wishes to be adored. Both of these traits are great starting points, but as endpoints — and put into dialogue despite being essentially unrelated — they are insufficient. 

Occasionally, however, this (despite it all!) Very watchable series slips into being something more, as when between the clerks in the record shop (David H. Holmes and Da’Vine Joy Randolph). Randolph, a gift that also appeared in last season’s”Dolemite Is My Name,” brings texture and an intriguingly prickly lively to the office, while Holmes, enjoying one gay man, receives a standalone episode dedicated to his troubles in love. It is about his hangups and insecurities at a relationship with a rich attorney, a coupling that switches off and on as a result of actual flaws of both parties. It seems located in position, in social category in a manner none of the remainder of”High Fidelity” does, and at the dynamics between individuals who are over the listing of signifiers identifiable as being one of those brunch place in Brooklyn. It indicates what”High Fidelity” could come to be once it goes beyond what has been a very long but insubstantial first-date dialogue with its viewers, and when it trusts itself sufficient to present its lead a little more unique and intriguing song or 2.