It’s actually wild how much the world changed since 2019, yet The Other Two Season 1 feels more relevant now than when it first dropped on Comedy Central. Remember 2019? We were all obsessed with the idea of "going viral" as if it were a meritocracy. Then came Cary and Brooke Dubek.
They’re losers. Sorta.
Actually, they’re just normal people stuck in the orbit of a 13-year-old supernova named ChaseDreams.
Created by former SNL head writers Chris Kelly and Sarah Schneider, the show didn't just mock the industry. It dissected the specific, agonizing itch of being "almost" successful while your sibling becomes a global brand overnight because of a song called "Marry Me at Christmas." If you haven't revisited the first ten episodes lately, you’re missing the sharpest writing of the late 2010s. It’s mean, it’s heartbreaking, and it’s deeply, deeply funny.
Why the ChaseDreams Phenomenon Worked
Most shows about fame feel fake. They use generic pop songs and "influencer" tropes that feel written by people who still use Facebook. The Other Two Season 1 avoided that trap by making ChaseDreams (played by Case Walker) actually likable. He isn’t a brat. He’s just a kid who likes socks and wants to do a good job.
The real satire is aimed at the adults.
Ken Marino as Streeter, the manager, is a masterclass in desperation. He’s wearing joggers and trying to stay "lit" while exploiting a minor’s every waking moment. Then there’s Molly Shannon as Pat Dubek. She’s the ultimate stage mom, but instead of being a villain, she’s just genuinely thrilled her son is doing well. It makes the bitterness of the older siblings feel even more earned. They can’t even hate their family for the success. They just have to sit there and breathe in the jet fuel.
The Cary Dubek Struggle
Cary, played by Drew Tarver, is an aspiring actor. In the pilot, he’s auditioning for a role that requires him to say, "Man, this man is playing some man-sized man-music."
It’s humiliating.
👉 See also: Kate Moss Family Guy: What Most People Get Wrong About That Cutaway
His arc throughout the first season is a brutal look at the "struggling actor" trope in New York. He’s navigating his identity as a gay man while the industry tries to package his brother’s brand in a way that’s "inclusive" but totally shallow. The "f*ggot" joke in the pilot—where Cary is told he can’t say the word even though he is gay, but his brother’s team wants to use it for "edginess"—is a perfect example of the show’s bite. It’s not just a sitcom. It’s a critique of how the corporate machine grinds down personality into "content."
Brooke Dubek and the Directionless Thirties
Heléne Yorke plays Brooke, and honestly, she’s the soul of the show.
She starts the season sleeping in a model apartment because she’s a former professional dancer who peaked at age 12. Brooke is chaotic. She’s the person who thinks she’s "one deal away" from fixing her life. When she becomes Chase’s "assistant" (basically his handler), she thinks she’s finally made it.
But she hasn’t. She’s just a glorified babysitter with a lanyard.
The genius of The Other Two Season 1 is how it handles Brooke’s relationship with her ex-boyfriend, Cary’s roommate, and her own sense of self-worth. She isn't a "girlboss." She’s a mess. And in a TV landscape filled with aspirational characters, Brooke’s willingness to lie about her life just to feel important for five minutes is incredibly relatable. You’ve probably felt like Brooke at a party before. We all have.
The Music of Season 1 is Actually Good (In a Bad Way)
We have to talk about "Marry Me at Christmas."
The songs in the show were written by Leland, who has worked with Troye Sivan and Selena Gomez. They aren't just parodies; they are structurally perfect pop songs that happen to have the most ridiculous lyrics imaginable.
- "My Brother’s Gay and That’s Okay"
- "Marry Me at Christmas"
- "Stink"
When Chase drops the music video for "My Brother’s Gay," it’s a pivotal moment for the season. It perfectly captures how the industry uses allyship as a marketing tool. Cary is literally used as a prop in his own brother’s PR campaign. He’s happy for the exposure, but he’s also dying inside. That tension is where the show lives.
✨ Don't miss: Blink-182 Mark Hoppus: What Most People Get Wrong About His 2026 Comeback
It’s the "yes, but" of fame.
Yes, I’m on TV, but I’m wearing a shirt that says "GAY BROTHER" while my straight teenage sibling sings about my trauma for Spotify plays.
The Ending That Changed Everything
The finale of The Other Two Season 1 is titled "Chase Gets Baptized."
It’s a chaotic mess of a church event that serves as a launchpad for a new streaming service. It’s also where the show reveals its teeth. We find out that Pat—the sweet, Midwestern mom—is getting her own talk show.
The "other two" aren't just the siblings anymore. They are the only people in the family who aren't famous.
It’s a pivot that shifted the entire dynamic for the following seasons. The stakes weren't just about Chase anymore. It became about a family where the "normal" ones are the outliers. The show managed to ground this in real grief, too. The reveal about their father’s death—and how each family member processed it—added a layer of emotional depth that caught viewers off guard. It wasn't just a gag-a-minute comedy. It was a story about a family trying to stay together while the world tried to pull them apart for clicks.
Why You Should Rewatch It Now
If you watched it when it first aired, you might have seen it as a funny show about YouTubers.
Watch it again.
🔗 Read more: Why Grand Funk’s Bad Time is Secretly the Best Pop Song of the 1970s
In the era of TikTok houses and child stars being exploited on a 24/7 cycle, The Other Two Season 1 looks like a prophecy. It predicted the specific kind of exhaustion that comes from being online. It understood that fame isn't a goal; it's a condition.
The show also features some of the best guest stars in comedy. Wanda Sykes as the ruthless PR exec Shuli Kogan is terrifyingly accurate. She doesn't have a heart; she has a spreadsheet. She views humans as "units." Seeing her manipulate the Dubeks is both hilarious and a little bit sickening if you know anything about how the talent industry actually operates.
Actionable Takeaways for Fans and Writers
If you’re looking to analyze why this show works so well, or if you’re a creator yourself, there are a few things to keep in mind about the structure of Season 1.
Don't punch down. The show never makes fun of Chase for being young or talented. It makes fun of the systems that want to drain him. That’s why it feels "human-quality" and not just cynical.
Vary the stakes. Some episodes are about big career moves, but others are just about Cary trying to get a guy to text him back. Mixing the "epic" with the "mundane" keeps the audience grounded.
The "Specific" is Universal. The jokes about the UCB (Upright Citizens Brigade) or the specific geography of New York City make the world feel lived-in. Even if you aren't an actor in NYC, you understand the feeling of being rejected by a community you desperately want to join.
Next Steps for Your Rewatch:
- Pay attention to the background characters. The show populates the world with people who are equally desperate, from the "Instagays" Cary hangs out with to the random assistants at the agency.
- Listen to the lyrics. The production value on the ChaseDreams tracks is uncomfortably high.
- Track Pat’s evolution. Rewatching the first season with the knowledge of what happens to Pat in Season 2 and 3 makes her early scenes much more poignant. She’s the accidental star, and the seeds of that are planted very early on.
The show eventually moved to HBO Max (now Max) for its later seasons, but the DNA was set right here. It remains a masterclass in how to write a sitcom that has something to say without being "preachy." It’s just honest. Honestly, it's kinda the best thing Comedy Central did in the last decade.