The most gloriously awkward woman in Hollywood is back—and not a moment too soon. After more than a decade away, The Comeback returns to HBO for a third—and definitively final—season, reuniting Lisa Kudrow and Michael Patrick King for one last, exquisitely cringe-inducing chapter in the saga of Valerie Cherish.
And if the show’s original 2005 run predicted the rise of reality TV, and its 2014 revival dissected prestige cable, this final outing zeroes in on a new existential threat: artificial intelligence. Or, as Kudrow succinctly puts it, “Just as reality TV was sort of the almost-extinction event at the time for scripted television, it’s the same feeling about AI.”
For King, the hook was even bigger than Hollywood. “We felt that the world may have escalated to the point of the desperation that Valerie was in in the first season,” he says. “People desperate to get a job, and keep a job… clinging and still reaching for job identity and recognition.” In other words, Valerie didn’t just come back—she never left. The world simply caught up to her.
The pair needed what King calls a “key” powerful enough to justify revisiting a show that famously stuck its landing in Season 2. They found it in a devilishly perfect premise: Valerie cast in the first multi-cam sitcom written by AI. “That was the red meat that got us to jump over the risk,” King says.
The result is a season that expands the show’s signature grammar of cameras—those invasive “dot cams” now joined by iPhones, security footage and even moments of cinematic realism where Valerie appears blissfully unaware she’s being watched. “That was the risk this season,” King explains. “Valerie without a camera awareness.”
If that sounds like a technical flex, it’s also deeply emotional. Because beneath the satire of AI and industry absurdity lies a more intimate story about aging, relevance and resilience. When we meet Valerie again, she’s older, yes—but also adrift. Despite having won an Emmy in the interim, the roles never quite materialized. “There’s slightly more confidence,” Kudrow says, “but still the desperation… she hadn’t worked.”
And yet, Valerie endures. Maybe even thrives. “I admire someone who just [feels like] here’s how I see the world and you don’t have to agree,” Kudrow reflects. It’s that unshakable self-perception—delusion or strength, depending on your point of view—that has always made Valerie both hilarious and oddly heroic.
That balance—between biting satire and genuine feeling—has always been the series’ secret weapon. “The comedy comes from the fear,” King notes, calling our current AI moment a “daily hellscape.” Kudrow agrees, but remains cautiously optimistic: “I firmly believe an audience will always let you know what it likes and what it doesn’t… it’s not going to take over everything.”
Offscreen, the creative partnership between Kudrow and King remains as intuitive as ever. “We share a brain at some point,” Kudrow says. King is more effusive: “I appreciate Lisa’s complete grasp of reality, coupled with her complete understanding of spiritualism.” Watching her slip back into Valerie, he adds, is still a shock. “It takes your breath away because it’s like a different being entered.”
That transformation fuels a finale already being whispered about as one of the most daring in recent TV memory. Without spoiling too much, it involves a visual shift from black-and-white into color—a metaphor for how audiences have long perceived Valerie in extremes. “People saw Valerie as black and white—victim, crazy, loser, winner,” King explains. “There was no gray area.” Bringing her into color, then, becomes an act of redefinition.
It’s also a goodbye. A real one. While TV history is built on reboots and revivals, Kudrow is firm: “It’s a trilogy.” King agrees, joking that it took 11 years just to find the right idea for Season 3. Don’t expect lightning to strike again—unless, perhaps, Valerie herself becomes AI. (Kudrow, naturally, floated the idea with a laugh.)
Still, if this is truly the end, it arrives at the perfect moment—when Valerie Cherish feels less like a relic and more like a prophet of modern fame. A woman who curated her own narrative before social media made it mandatory. A performer who refuses to let the world tell her who she is.
Or, as Kudrow puts it, distilling both the character and the show’s enduring appeal: “There’s just nothing better… It’s so healing. It’s so cathartic. It’s so satisfying.”
