The electric, often fraught dynamic between comedian Deborah Vance (Jean Smart) and writer Ava Daniels (Hannah Einbinder) has always powered Hacks. It’s the Max Original’s not-so-secret weapon: the source of its emotional heft, and the reason it keeps earning critical praise. In the show’s remarkable fourth season, that relationship stays front and center, as Deborah and Ava take their fractured partnership into the high-pressure world of late-night television.
Now hosting her own show, Deborah remains professionally tethered to Ava, who’s blackmailed her way into the head writer job Deborah once promised. (Ava’s certainly learned from the best, or at least, the most devious.) Their constant bickering derails every meeting, taping, and press event, putting the show’s future on the line. The network even sends in an insufferable HR rep (played by Michaela Watkins) to mediate their interactions; great news for anyone keeping a tally of Hacks’ escalating HR violations. Deborah and Ava, long a two-woman HR headache, now find themselves with a chaperone––and common enemy.
Season four brings the duo to Hollywood, setting the stage for celebrity cameos that gleefully satirize the LA scene and late-night TV world. For the most part, they land. Some big-name shows reach a point where guest appearances feel more like displays of clout than intentional narrative choices. (Looking at you, Only Murders in the Building and The Bear. Just because you can write Meryl Streep into your series doesn’t mean you should.) Hacks avoids that trap. The cameos work because the celebrities are playing versions of themselves, which lets the satire stay self-aware and pointed.
Lauren Weedman returns as the delightfully slapstick mayor of Las Vegas, while Marcus (Carl Clemons-Hopkins) takes a backseat this season, giving Mark Indelicato’s Damien a lot more room to shine as Deborah’s sweaty, skittish assistant. Subplots largely orbit Kayla (Meg Stalter) and Jimmy (Paul W. Downs), now running their own agency and managing the fallout between Deborah and Ava. Stalter’s comedic energy, rooted in her trademark oblivious confidence, remains a highlight; Robby Hoffman, as her office assistant, brings new color to the Kayla-Jimmy dynamic. Though some threads, like the “Dance Mom” plot, feel scattered, Kayla and Jimmy’s relationship is a strange, endearing constant. Reader, I want them to kiss.
Amid all these developments, Hacks could have easily lost its way. But the series wisely keeps Ava and Deborah’s relationship in focus, having them go head-to-head—or cheek-to-cheek on the cover of the New York Times Magazine—and letting their chemistry drive the narrative forward. In a romance novel, the “second chance” trope is generally about rebuilding trust. Characters confront past betrayals and behaviors, asking: How have we changed? Can we move forward?Hacks, in a sense, has always been a romance: it’s the story of two people whose connection forces them to face old wounds and insecurities. Ava and Deborah learn to love, trust, and let each other in, and in doing so, come to better understand themselves.
This season opens in the wake of their betrayals. Both Ava and Deborah are wounded and angry, and their creative collaboration demands an intimacy neither is ready to risk. That tension comes to a head in episode four, “I Love L.A.,” when Deborah suffers stage fright before her debut. Carol Burnett, playing herself, offers her simple advice: pick one person in the audience and imagine performing just for them. Inevitably, that person is Ava.
Deborah, who’s always thought needing others was a weakness, has nonetheless made Ava her emergency contact––the person who will show up when Deborah lands in the hospital after falling inside a human-sized cage while dancing at the club. (Episode four’s final needle drop, Labi Siffre’s “Bless the Telephone,” is an especially poignant touch.) But Hacks understands that a single reconciliation won’t erase our doubts. We’ve been burned before. Over three seasons, the pair has sparred and made up repeatedly. Deborah, in particular, has taken small, promising steps forward, only to fall back in giant leaps. The question remains: Can Deborah really change? Can we move forward? That tension holds until the end, when Deborah faces a choice between preserving her artistic integrity and chasing commercial success––but more importantly, between protecting herself and standing up for Ava.
Hacks is deeply invested in these kinds of choices; those that hint at meaningful character growth, the very promise a second-chance romance offers in pursuit of a Happily Ever After. Season four ties up many emotional threads set in motion by season three. The series could end here, but why would you want it to? Hacks has earned its encore.
Angelina Mazza is an intern at Paste.
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