The Fall and Rise of Reggie Dinkins Season 2 Premiere Review: Max Steals the Spotlight
Review score: 8/10
Review note: This assessment draws on episode recaps, published review coverage and official episode information; it does not claim a first-person screening.
Spoiler warning: This review discusses season 2, episode 1, “We Keep the Kisses.”
The Fall and Rise of Reggie Dinkins returns with the same promise that made its first season click: a disgraced former football star, a documentarian with his own career problems, and a family whose everyday disputes can turn into full-scale nonsense. Season 2’s premiere, “We Keep the Kisses,” picks up the dangling Carmelo-and-Delilah romance and gives Reggie a new shot at public attention. But its most memorable new energy comes from Max, Monica’s temporary assistant, played by Jeremy Culhane, whose brief workplace spiral threatens to steal the episode from its two leads.
That is a good problem for a returning sitcom to have. The premiere does not need to reinvent the format or reset the family; it trusts that viewers want to spend more time with these people. Carmelo (Jalyn Hall) is secretly dating Delilah (Arica Himmel), daughter of Reggie’s rival Jerry Basmati, while Reggie and Monica (Erika Alexander) try to turn his renewed Hall of Fame buzz into lasting career momentum. Arthur Tobin (Daniel Radcliffe) remains close enough to the family to document the story—and compromised enough to hope that the story becomes dramatic.
The episode’s structure is comfortable, almost deliberately so. Its Romeo-and-Juliet setup, publicity scramble and live interview mishap are familiar sitcom shapes, but the writing keeps finding odd angles inside them. A secret relationship becomes a documentary temptation. A job interview turns into a generational monologue. A sports appearance gets derailed by a ferret. The show is still a machine for absurd details, but the premiere’s real achievement is how naturally it connects those details to the characters’ ongoing need to be seen as more than their worst public moment.
“We Keep the Kisses” is not a major escalation. Reggie has already earned a small measure of redemption, the family is still close, and there is no threat that the comedy will suddenly become a high-stakes sports drama. That gentle scale is part of its appeal. The series is more interested in the humiliating, funny distance between a comeback announcement and actual change. The result is a warm, sharply silly return that makes Max the surprise star of the half hour while keeping Morgan and Radcliffe at its emotional center.
A second season that resumes without a reset
The first season ended by making Carmelo and Delilah’s relationship the next family complication. The premiere wastes little time in picking up that thread. The two teens are connected to families locked in a long-running feud, and the episode dresses their romance in a modern, very silly version of the Montagues-and-Capulets setup. The comparison is intentionally overblown. Reggie and Jerry Basmati are not medieval lords; they are former football rivals whose personal antagonism has expanded into a family brand.
Starting with that secret gives the second season continuity without requiring a new premise. Carmelo and Delilah’s relationship is a direct consequence of the show’s existing world, and it gives the documentarian Arthur a fresh temptation. A forbidden romance is exactly the kind of material that would make a compelling trailer for his Reggie project. The question is not only whether the young couple can keep their secret; it is whether the adults around them can resist turning their private lives into public content.
That structure also creates a quiet ethical conflict. Arthur is not an impartial observer, and the premiere is at its funniest when his professional ambition collides with the affection he has developed for the family. He wants a story good enough to help both Reggie’s comeback and his own reputation. He also knows that the strongest footage might come from a painful family blowup. The show does not pretend that the documentary arrangement is innocent, but it keeps the conflict light enough to fuel farce rather than turn into a lecture.
The return feels well judged because the episode treats the family’s roles as already established. Monica remains the person most capable of turning Reggie’s hopes into a plan. Brina is watchful and protective. Rusty remains close enough to the family to be both a friend and an unpredictable presence. Reggie and Arthur share a peculiar dependency, each using the other to make his own comeback possible. These relationships are the reason the continuing plot feels like an invitation back rather than a table-setting exercise.
Carmelo and Delilah give the episode its story engine
Carmelo and Delilah’s relationship offers the premiere a classic sitcom engine: teenagers want privacy, parents want answers, and the adults’ efforts to manage the situation create more trouble than the secret itself. Jalyn Hall gives Carmelo a likeable mix of earnestness and awkward confidence, while Arica Himmel helps Delilah feel like a participant in the relationship rather than a prize at the end of a family feud. The romance is sweet enough to matter, but the show knows the comic potential lies in how many people are circling it.
The relationship works especially well because it is not simply another way to make Reggie look foolish. Carmelo’s romantic life forces the father to confront the fact that his son has his own priorities, and those priorities do not automatically align with the feud that has shaped Reggie’s social world. The family rivalry has become a running joke, but it still exerts pressure. A son dating the rival’s daughter threatens the stories the adults tell about loyalty, tradition and who belongs on which side.
Brina’s attempts to act like a relaxed, modern stepmother quickly turn into a surprisingly effective investigation. A stray hair becomes evidence; social media becomes a search tool; a cool pose gives way to protective curiosity. Precious Way is particularly good at letting Brina’s concern and comic nosiness coexist. She is not a sitcom parent who dismisses the teens’ feelings, but she also cannot resist trying to understand exactly what is happening under her roof.
The teenagers’ attempt to stage a breakup adds a layer of performance to the plot. They are trying to control what their parents see, while Arthur is trying to record a story that will make sense to an audience. The episode gets useful mileage from that overlap: everyone is acting for someone, and not always for the person they claim to be addressing. It is a small but fitting extension of the show’s documentary format.
The main weakness is that the forbidden-romance story is more promising than urgent. The Basmati feud gives the pairing a comic obstacle, but the premiere does not yet make the consequences feel particularly dangerous. That is not a problem if the show intends this to be a slow-building family thread, and the series is better when it does not inflate every misunderstanding into a crisis. Still, the narrative will need to give Carmelo and Delilah more distinct choices if the relationship is going to carry a season rather than simply supply a string of parental reactions.
Arthur is both the camera and part of the family
Daniel Radcliffe’s Arthur has become one of the sitcom’s most valuable points of view. He is a documentarian with a record of professional failure, and the Dinkins project is simultaneously his next chance and a source of personal attachment. In the premiere, he understands that Carmelo and Delilah’s secret could create excellent documentary drama. His instinct is to keep filming and wait for events to unfold, while his growing affection for the family tells him he should not encourage the conflict.
That split makes Arthur funny without reducing him to a cynical filmmaker. He genuinely likes Reggie and the family, but he is also someone who has spent his life trying to make an important film. The chance to turn another person’s life into a compelling story can make him look at domestic trouble as material. The sitcom’s central relationship remains a little compromised, exactly as it should be: Reggie needs Arthur’s storytelling, and Arthur needs Reggie’s comeback, but neither can fully pretend this is a neutral arrangement.
Radcliffe plays Arthur’s enthusiasm with a precise, slightly overfocused intensity. A potential storyline can make him visibly alert before he remembers that a person’s life is not an outline to be improved. That quality also gives him strong comic timing with the ensemble. His attempts to remain professional around a family that has welcomed him inside are inherently unstable, and the show makes use of that instability without requiring him to become a villain.
The episode does not resolve Arthur’s moral discomfort, and it should not. If the documentary became entirely benevolent, it would lose one of its most interesting tensions. If Arthur became purely exploitative, the friendship would stop feeling credible. The premiere leaves him in the more productive middle: a man who genuinely cares and still knows that conflict makes better television.
Max briefly becomes the episode’s most explosive comic presence
The episode’s clearest surprise is Max, Monica’s new assistant, played by Jeremy Culhane. Monica needs someone who understands the current publicity landscape, and Max initially looks like a solution: young, fluent in online culture and confident enough to turn Reggie’s small burst of attention into a plan. The joke is not just that a younger assistant knows how social media works. The show also recognizes that nobody has a reliable formula for internet fame, including the people who speak most confidently about it.
Culhane’s comic turn escalates from workplace confidence into a wonderfully misplaced generational grievance. Max is struggling with debt, housing and the promise that education would provide stability, yet he has been hired to manage a former football star’s reputation. That gap between his modest job and his large frustration gives the scene a sharper edge than a generic “kids these days” joke. The series can mock Max’s self-importance while still letting the economic insecurity underneath it register.
The character’s exposure of his side hustle and the ensuing outburst become the premiere’s most memorable set piece. The escalation is intentionally ridiculous, but it is also specific: the joke comes from seeing a polished professional image collapse into a private hustle that is both embarrassing and understandable. Culhane commits fully to the absurdity, and Erika Alexander and Tracy Morgan’s reactions help sell the difference between what Max thinks he is explaining and what the people in the room are actually witnessing.
Max steals the spotlight because the scene gives him a clear comic arc. He enters as the person who will modernize Monica’s approach, demonstrates that he may indeed understand the current media world, then reveals the strain beneath that confident expertise. The sequence is a compact showcase for the series’ preferred rhythm: start with a recognizable social observation, introduce an increasingly bizarre detail, and let an actor push it past the point where a more cautious sitcom would stop.
The scene also gives Monica a useful new dynamic. Erika Alexander’s performance has long been one of the show’s grounding forces: Monica understands Reggie’s flaws, loves him anyway and knows how to turn chaos into practical next steps. Max offers her a chance to become a boss again, but his presence complicates that return to professional authority. She does not need to be the smartest person in every room; she needs to decide whether this particular assistant can help.
There is a risk that Max’s arrival could become a one-episode joke or a recurring character whose purpose is to deliver generational punchlines. The premiere gives him enough frustration and specificity to suggest more. If he returns, the show can use him to explore the mismatch between old celebrity and digital attention, while also giving Monica her own professional story. The first episode makes him memorable; the next few will need to make him matter.
Tracy Morgan still anchors the comedy
Even with Max’s scene-stealing moment, Tracy Morgan remains the reason the show’s central absurdity works. Reggie is a former football star whose ego survived his scandal, but the character is not simply an exaggerated version of Morgan’s public persona. He is a man who has built a life around being adored and now has to find out whether a smaller return to public affection can count as meaningful progress.
The episode’s sports-interview plot gives Morgan a familiar physical-comedy setup. Reggie gets an opportunity to speak on a football broadcast, and the family sees it as another chance to move his reputation forward. The appearance turns into a disaster when Slinky the ferret becomes an unexpected part of the event. The joke is outrageous by design, but Morgan’s performance keeps it anchored in Reggie’s determination to carry on as if a humiliating mishap can still be spun into a successful media moment.
Morgan’s best skill here is his ability to make confidence and vulnerability appear in the same beat. Reggie can be convinced that he is the smartest man in the room while also needing reassurance from Arthur that the latest setback does not erase his progress. The character’s ego is a comic engine, but the sitcom has gradually made his need for friendship visible. That balance allows the episode to land on something warmer than a punchline.
The conversation between Reggie and Arthur after the broadcast is a quiet corrective to the show’s silliness. They discuss how frustrating it is to get close to a goal and have to start again. It is not a dramatic speech about redemption; it is a brief recognition between two men who have both had public failures and who understand that success can be measured in ways other than a restored career. Morgan and Radcliffe can make that sincerity feel earned because the comedy has spent time showing how strange their bond is.
That is why the idea of NBC replacing Morgan as the show’s “best part” is more playful than literal. Culhane’s Max wins the episode’s biggest burst of comic energy, but the series still depends on Morgan’s ability to hold its center. The ensemble is allowed to surprise us without making the lead disposable. The best version of this show is not a competition for who gets the largest joke; it is a group of eccentric people helping one another turn embarrassment into another attempt.
Monica’s career problem gives the family story a new direction
Reggie’s comeback is not only Reggie’s story. Monica has spent years managing the practical consequences of his fame, and the premiere gives her a new problem: she has to figure out how to translate an old celebrity into a new media environment. Reggie has a few Hall of Fame votes and a possible television appearance, but attention is fickle. A public relations strategy that worked in the past does not necessarily work when online culture changes by the week.
The assistant search creates room for a string of quick jokes about who is now looking for entry-level work and what kinds of experience count as useful. Monica remains savvy, but she has to admit that she does not know every trend or platform. That shift gives her a more interesting position than simply being the responsible ex-wife who cleans up after Reggie. She is managing a career of her own, even if it is built around his.
The series’ relationship structure is one of its quiet strengths. Monica and Reggie are divorced, but they are not written as enemies, and their connection to each other is more durable than the status of their marriage. Monica can tell Reggie exactly what he needs to hear and exactly what he is doing wrong. Reggie relies on her professionally and personally, which creates a comic intimacy that does not require romantic reconciliation.
The new assistant Max could expand that side of the show if the series keeps the focus on Monica’s choices. She is not merely hiring someone to understand social media; she is deciding how much of her time and judgment she wants to invest in another attempt to revive Reggie’s public image. If the effort fails, it will affect her work too. The premiere begins to make that shared risk visible.
The show’s humor is fast, strange and carefully layered
The premiere’s joke density reflects its creative lineage. Robert Carlock and Sam Means, with Tina Fey among the executive producers, bring a style that thrives on quick cutaways, absurdly precise details and jokes that are sometimes only visible in the margins. The series has recognizable similarities to 30 Rock, but the family setting, documentary camera and sports-comeback premise give it its own arrangement of comic tools.
The humor is strongest when it remains character-specific. Reggie’s confidence produces one kind of joke; Arthur’s hunger for a story produces another; Monica’s practical sense makes her reactions funny because she is forced to manage people who have no interest in behaving sensibly. Brina’s investigative streak, Carmelo’s teenage secrecy and Max’s modern-media bravado each create different comic temperatures. The show does not rely on every character speaking in the same rapid-fire voice.
That range is part of what makes the series feel welcoming rather than cynical. The characters are ridiculous, but the show rarely treats affection as a weakness. Reggie can be selfish and still be loved. Arthur can be opportunistic and still be a friend. Monica can be exasperated without wanting the family to fall apart. The sitcom’s world assumes that people can be embarrassing and worth keeping around at the same time.
The downside is that a packed joke rhythm can sometimes crowd out a beat that deserves more breathing room. The premiere moves quickly from Carmelo’s secret to Monica’s new assistant to the football appearance, and the comic details arrive at a steady pace. Viewers who prefer subtle, low-volume humor may find the style busy. But the episode also knows when to slow down, particularly in the conversation between Reggie and Arthur after the public fiasco.
The best gags in “We Keep the Kisses” do more than fill a pause. They add another fact to the characters’ world, sharpen a relationship or foreshadow the kind of trouble the next scene may create. The ferret, the hair detective work, the assistant search and the documentary ethics all feel like pieces of one eccentric household. This is the show’s most reliable source of originality: not that it invents a new sitcom form, but that it fills its established form with unusually specific nonsense.
A cozy premiere still needs forward motion
The main criticism hanging over the show is that Reggie’s life is not as precarious as its title suggests. He is disgraced, but he is still wealthy, supported by family and able to pursue a comeback. His setbacks are often humiliating rather than existential. A viewer looking for a hard-edged story about a celebrity’s fall might wonder whether the show is serious about the consequences of his scandal.
The premiere does not suddenly turn that into a different kind of series. Its conflicts are small enough to resolve through a conversation, a new opportunity or a better plan. The romance threatens a family feud; the interview goes sideways; Monica’s publicity strategy needs help. The stakes remain human and domestic, even when the details are absurd. That scale makes the show gentle, though it can also limit the urgency of the season’s larger arc.
This emotional undercurrent is why the premiere can afford to be cozy. The characters are not in constant danger of losing their homes; they are in danger of believing that the best parts of their lives are behind them. That is a smaller, more comic form of crisis, and it can support a series if the relationships keep changing. Reggie’s small successes cannot fix everything overnight, but they can give him another reason to try.
The second season will need to keep that development alive. If each episode resets Reggie to the same level of failure, the title’s promise of a rise will feel decorative. If every public embarrassment is followed by instant forgiveness, the show may flatten the consequences that make his redemption interesting. The premiere makes a strong start by letting him enjoy progress and still experience frustration. The best future episodes will preserve both.
Verdict: a funny return with an unexpected scene-stealer
“We Keep the Kisses” brings The Fall and Rise of Reggie Dinkins back in good form. The Carmelo-and-Delilah romance connects the second season to the first, Arthur’s documentary role keeps the family’s private life under gentle pressure, and Monica’s effort to modernize Reggie’s publicity gives her a useful new professional thread. The sitcom’s humor remains fast and unusually specific, with Max’s entrance adding a new comic voice to the household.
Jeremy Culhane earns the episode’s surprise spotlight. Max’s confidence, economic frustration and increasingly unmanageable personal reveal give him a comic sequence that expands beyond a simple guest appearance. If the character returns, he could provide Monica with a real work partner and the series with a fresh perspective on the attention economy. The premiere also avoids making his scene a verdict on Tracy Morgan’s importance: Morgan remains the warm, erratic center, and his conversation with Radcliffe is one of the half hour’s most affecting moments.
The episode is not without limits. The central romance needs sharper consequences if it is to drive a season, and the show’s gentle stakes can occasionally make its comeback story feel more comfortable than challenging. But comfort is part of the appeal. These characters are messy without being cruel, and the show has space to let a small humiliation become a small act of support rather than a catastrophe.
As a season premiere, it does exactly what a good sitcom return should: reintroduce the relationships, give the ensemble a new comic problem and remind us why we wanted to come back. It does not top every Tracy Morgan moment from season 1, but it proves that the show’s strongest asset may be its willingness to let the supporting cast steal a scene—and then bring the story back to Reggie and Arthur’s odd, loyal friendship.
Final score: 8/10
Frequently asked questions
What is the title of The Fall and Rise of Reggie Dinkins season 2 premiere?
The season 2 premiere is called “We Keep the Kisses.”
When did “We Keep the Kisses” air?
The episode premiered on NBC on November 2, 2026.
What happens in the season 2 premiere?
Reggie and Monica try to capitalize on new career opportunities while Carmelo’s secret relationship with Delilah, daughter of Reggie’s rival, threatens to unsettle the family.
Who plays Max in The Fall and Rise of Reggie Dinkins?
Jeremy Culhane plays Max, Monica’s new assistant, who becomes a standout comic presence in the premiere.
Who plays Reggie Dinkins?
Tracy Morgan plays Reggie, a disgraced former football star trying to rebuild his reputation.
Who is Arthur Tobin?
Daniel Radcliffe plays Arthur, the documentarian filming Reggie’s attempt at a comeback.
Who plays Monica Reese-Dinkins?
Erika Alexander plays Monica, Reggie’s ex-wife and the manager of his career.
What is the Carmelo and Delilah storyline?
Carmelo and Delilah are secretly dating despite the feud between their families, which creates a modern Romeo-and-Juliet setup.
Is The Fall and Rise of Reggie Dinkins season 2 streaming?
Episodes air on NBC and are available to stream on Peacock after broadcast.
What is the review score for “We Keep the Kisses”?
This review gives the season 2 premiere 8 out of 10 for its fast, specific comedy, strong ensemble dynamics and Jeremy Culhane’s scene-stealing turn.
Sources and episode context
Episode details and character context were checked against the episode listing, The A.V. Club’s review and Nexus Point News’ review. Photos are credited to Scott Gries/NBC.
