Alan Ball usually has the golden touch. Six Feet Under remains a pillar of television history, and True Blood basically pioneered the modern prestige-trash aesthetic that HBO thrives on. So when the HBO Here and Now series was announced, the industry expected a revolution. It didn’t get one. Instead, we got a messy, sprawling, and deeply polarizing family drama that was cancelled after a single ten-episode season.
It was a shock. Honestly, seeing a creator of Ball’s caliber fall flat on his face is rare. The show followed the Bayer-Boatwrights, a multiracial, progressive family living in Portland. They were the "perfect" liberal unit—three adopted children from Vietnam, Liberia, and Colombia, plus one biological daughter. But beneath the surface, the family was cracking under the weight of mental health crises, racial tension, and a weirdly supernatural subplot that never quite felt earned.
What Went Wrong with the HBO Here and Now Series?
Critics weren't kind. The biggest gripe? It felt like the show was trying to check every single sociopolitical box at once. You had gender identity, institutional racism, the refugee experience, and the looming threat of Trump-era politics all colliding in one living room. It was exhausting. Sometimes, it felt less like a narrative and more like a Twitter argument brought to life with high production values.
Holly Hunter and Tim Robbins did the heavy lifting as the parents, Audrey and Greg. Hunter is always electric, and seeing her play a high-strung therapist trying to manage a "post-racial" family was fascinating. But the script often gave her lines that felt more like a sociology lecture than actual human speech. People don't talk in perfectly formed thesis statements about the state of the union while they're eating breakfast. Or at least, they shouldn't if you want the audience to care about them.
The supernatural element was the real kicker. Ramon, the son adopted from Colombia (played by Daniel Zovatto), starts seeing the numbers "11:11" and having visions. Is it a psychic connection? A shared trauma? Early-onset schizophrenia? The show never quite decided. By the time the finale rolled around, viewers were left with more questions than answers.
The Portland Setting and the "Woke" Satire
Portland was the perfect backdrop. It’s a city that prides itself on being a progressive utopia, which makes it the ideal place to deconstruct the hypocrisy of the white liberal elite. Ball clearly wanted to poke fun at the performative nature of activism. He succeeded in spots. There’s a scene where the family argues over the optics of their own dinner conversation that feels painfully real if you've ever spent time in a hyper-liberal enclave.
But the satire wasn't sharp enough to be Veep, and the drama wasn't grounded enough to be Six Feet Under. It lived in this awkward middle ground. You’ve got a family that looks like a Benetton ad but acts like a Greek tragedy. It was heavy. Really heavy.
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A Cast That Deserved Better
If you look back at the HBO Here and Now series today, the cast is actually stacked. Beyond the heavy hitters at the top, the younger actors were putting in serious work.
Jerrika Hinton, who played Ashley, was a standout. Her character ran a successful retail site and dealt with the specific, grinding exhaustion of being a Black woman in a predominantly white, "enlightened" space. Her performance was nuanced. It lacked the histrionics that bogged down other storylines. Then you had Sosie Bacon as Kristen, the biological daughter, who felt like the only person actually living in reality half the time.
The chemistry was there, but the pacing was off. One episode would be a slow-burn character study, and the next would feature a bizarre, reality-bending encounter at a grocery store. It gave the audience whiplash.
Why the 11:11 Mystery Fell Flat
In 2018, audiences were already a bit tired of "mystery box" television. We had Lost scars. We were in the middle of Westworld fatigue. When Ramon started seeing the number 11:11 everywhere, the internet expected a payoff.
Instead of a payoff, we got metaphors.
Ball later explained in interviews that the supernatural elements were meant to represent the anxiety of the modern world. That’s fine for a poem, but for a ten-hour television series, people want plot. They want to know why the numbers are there. When the show was cancelled, those threads were just left dangling. It’s one of those instances where the "prestige" of the network might have actually hurt the show—it felt too high-brow to give us the cheesy answers we actually wanted.
The Legacy of a One-Season Wonder
Looking back, the HBO Here and Now series was a product of its time. It was a visceral reaction to the 2016 election. It was raw, angry, and confused.
- It tackled the "white savior" trope before it was a mainstream talking point.
- It explored the intersection of religion and sexuality through the character of Navid.
- It attempted to bridge the gap between realism and magical realism.
Was it a failure? Ratings-wise, yes. HBO pulled the plug quickly. But in terms of ambition? It’s hard not to respect what Ball was trying to do. He wanted to hold up a mirror to a very specific part of America and say, "Look how broken you actually are."
Most shows play it safe. They find a niche and they dig in. Here and Now tried to be everything to everyone. It wanted to be a family drama, a political thriller, and a spiritual journey. It's a lot. Maybe too much for 2018.
How to Watch and What to Look For
If you’re going to dive into the HBO Here and Now series now, you have to go in with the right mindset. Don't expect a neatly tied bow. Expect a mess.
- Watch it for the performances. Holly Hunter is a masterclass even when the dialogue is clunky.
- Look for the satire. Ignore the supernatural stuff if it gets too weird; focus on the social commentary. It’s actually quite prophetic regarding how we talk to each other on social media today.
- Appreciate the production. It’s an HBO show. It looks gorgeous. The lighting, the Pacific Northwest scenery, the interior design—it’s all top-tier.
The show is currently available on Max (formerly HBO Max). It’s a quick binge. Ten episodes, and you’re done. It serves as a fascinating time capsule of a moment when prestige TV was trying to figure out how to handle a rapidly changing political landscape.
If you're a fan of Alan Ball, it's essential viewing just to see the evolution of his themes. You can see the DNA of Six Feet Under in the family dynamics, but with a much darker, more cynical edge. It’s not "comfort" TV. It’s "discomfort" TV.
To get the most out of it, try watching it alongside a more successful contemporary like Succession. Both shows deal with dysfunctional families and immense wealth/privilege, but they take wildly different approaches to tone. While Succession uses humor to mask the pain, Here and Now leans directly into the scream. It's a fascinating comparison in how to—and how not to—write modern drama.
Don't go looking for a Season 2. It’s never coming. But as a standalone piece of experimental television, it’s worth a weekend of your time just to see a master creator swing for the fences and miss. Sometimes the misses are more interesting than the hits.