#lily is installing Catholic guilt

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In 'Grace and Frankie' Season 3, More of the Same (But Jane Fonda Gets High)

i wrote about the new season of “Grace and Frankie” but you’re better off watching “The Golden Girls.”

Last month Hulu began streaming every episode of "The Golden Girls." More than three decades after its premiere, the seminal sitcom remains every bit relevant, topical and -- most importantly -- hilarious.

Time may have passed but "The Golden Girls" is still deeply funny with its four main ladies tackling serious issues in just 22 minutes (or under). From confronting one's own death, to commenting on the AIDS crisis and beyond, almost every episode of "The Golden Girls" (at least in its early run) handled a sensitive topic with careful precision and unexpected deftness. That the show's writers, crew and stars managed to unpack important topics in a short runtime solidified "The Golden Girls" as one of the best sitcoms.

It's impossible not draw connections between "Grace and Frankie," which enters its third season on Netflix Friday, and "The Golden Girls," especially since the latter sitcom is finding a new and younger audience via Hulu. Despite delightful performances from its stars Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda, "Grace and Frankie" is ultimately mostly surface level, missing opportunity after opportunity to thoroughly explore issues the show presents.

Season 3 is no different.

"Grace and Frankie" isn't fully averse to taking risks, however. The main plot this season finds Grace (Fonda) and Frankie (Tomlin) starting a business together. Not just any business -- the duo want to make a line of vibrators specifically aimed at senior woman who have hand and joint problems. The idea came to Grace -- an experienced businesswomen who ran her own makeup company before retiring -- in Season 2 when she had an arthritis flare up after using her own sex toy. And of course, Frankie is all in on the wild idea.

Finding the $75,000 they need to launch for Vybrant, an excellent name for a vibrator company, becomes more difficult than Grace and Frankie anticipated. The women face ageism, and even misogyny, while getting turned down for loans.

"Oh, my god! I know what's going on here," Grace exclaims after a banker won't give them a 10-year loan. Instead, he pushes for a one-year loan.

"Me too: This is about you being afraid of female sexuality," Frankie chimes in.

"He's not going to give us a loan because he think's we're too old," Grace says. Frankie begs to differ, telling the banker she "was blasting Drake on the way here."

"This is ageist bullshit," Grace fires back.

After a little back-and-forth, the women leave the bank defeated, offering nothing more than a pout and some one-liners before heading back to the drawing board to think of new ways to get money. It's hard not to imagine Bea Arthur's Dorothy in this situation: With a ferocious wit and a stern glare, she'd undoubtedly give the naysayers a piece of her mind and get that loan.

Later on in the season (Netflix shared the first six of 13 episodes for review), Grace and Frankie come home to find their house burgled. The women react to the invasion of privacy in different ways: Grace is levelheaded but Frankie is shaken the core. During a police investigation, Grace lets it slip that she owns a gun and Frankie freaks out. She's staunch in her stance on guns and orders Grace to get rid of it. Grace promises she'll dispose of the weapon but lies.

Over the next few episodes, we see how the women cope with the crime. Frankie can't sleep alone at night and Grace is determined to help her friend. Together, they take classes at the local community center to learn how to defend themselves (they're told to soil themselves if they encounter a perpetrator) and how to prevent another robbery. Of course, it eventually comes out that Grace still has her firearm, causing a major rift between the besties.

"Grace and Frankie" never gets too dramatic and doesn't peel back the layers of its main characters. The women argue, with Frankie holding her ground, saying she won't live with Grace until she tosses out the gun. Grace doesn't make things any better: With the help of her daughters, Grace decides to poke Frankie's buttons by smoking her pot (in one of the funniest moments of the season, we see Jane Fonda act high as a kite). This sets off Frankie because Grace promised Frankie if she were to ever smoke, she'd do it with her.

While there's no doubting Fonda and Tomlin are shining stars in every scene, it's not enough to make up for the show's misgivings. "Grace and Frankie" fails to use the situation as a teachable moment and doesn't dive deeper into the issue of gun violence and safety. Instead, the show takes the easy way out, playing the fight for laughs. Moment-to-moment, "Grace and Frankie" offers plenty of giggles aimed at a broad audience but unlike other modern sitcoms ("Black-ish," "Transparent," "One Day at a Time," "Fresh Off the Boat") the show doesn't leave a lasting or meaningful impression.

It's hard to come down too hard on "Grace and Frankie." As always, Tomlin and Fonda still have that rare chemistry that first captivated audiences in the 1980 comedy "9 to 5." And the series also did the smart thing by shinning a spotlight on June Diane Raphael, who plays Grace's sassy and complex daughter Brianna. In Season 3, she gets what feels like a bigger role than the past two installments. Here, she wrestles with her feelings about having children and starting a family and becomes an integral part of helping Grace and Frankie get their business off the ground.

"Grace and Frankie" suffers most when Fonda, Tomlin or Raphael aren't on camera. The relationship between Grace and Frankie's ex-husbands, Robert (Martin Sheen) and Sol (Sam Waterston), is one of the worst depictions of a marriage -- straight or gay -- on TV. Unrealistic, trite and grating, the dynamic between the two men feels like it was lifted from a 50s sitcom and applied to today's progressive world. Sol is often whining or being unreasonably jealous of Robert's desires: Robert is cast in a community theater production of the musical "1776" but Sol doesn't get a part. Robert frets how he'll tell his partner; rightfully worrying that Sol will throw a tantrum. After breaking the news, Sol is initially upset but comes around to it, telling Robert, "I'll play the role of supporting husband." Ick.

Sol later gets jealous when he learns Robert is going out for "drinkies" with his theater pals. Wanting to be part of the crew, and not allowing Robert to have his own social life, Sol aggravatingly guilt trips his husband into inviting his friends over to their new home. This plays out like a banal scene from "I Love Lucy" but with gay men. Sol reveals to Robert's new friends he was married to a woman for 40 years -- they had no idea -- and Robert gets upset. After cooling down, the incident sparks Robert to come out to his mother, a devout Catholic. Yes -- a coming out scene in 2107. Again, "Grace and Frankie" avoids delving into any interesting issues older gay men might face today and instead opts for a moment LGBTQ audiences have seen time and time again.

Like many smaller Netflix original series, "Grace and Frankie" probably built its own specific audience over the last two years. The streaming service doesn't share its ratings but it's safe to say this half-hour comedy has devoted fans who will binge the show for light laughs and Tomlin and Fonda's star power. And that's OK; "Grace and Frankie" is harmless and does what it sets out to do perfectly fine.

One of the most interesting things about the current TV landscape is that new shows aren't just battling each other for your attention -- they're also up against every series and film backlogged on streaming services. With hundreds of shows from which to choose, audiences are pickier than ever when it comes to their TV diet. And when faced between watching the new season of "Grace and Frankie" or binging on "The Golden Girls," the answer seems pretty obvious.