Have you ever turned on a television show, and within five minutes, you wanted to tuck and roll out of your life? That was me getting through the painful twenty-two minutes of the new Tim Allen sitcom, “Shifting Gears.” Here’s the plot: Tim Allen plays a widower who owns a shop that works only on classic muscle cars. His name is Matt Parker.  Sean William Scott, AKA Stifler from the American Pie movies, who now has a beard and hand tattoos, helps him in the muscle car shop. Parker’s estranged daughter Riley, played by Kat Dennings, needs to move in with her dad because she peeled out of her dad’s life fifteen years ago in his 70s Chevelle. Now she’s got two sassy kids to raise and a divorce looming from her ex-husband, a bass player in a band.

There is a laugh track. There are corny jokes galore. They set everything to classic sitcom timing. You cannot wonder how someone made this throwback to 1990s television when we exist in a world where The Wire, Mad Men, or even Rick and Morty exists. Allen’s character plays up to who he is: a middle-aged Conservative who “just doesn’t get the world today,” Dennings plays his daughter with more Liberal points of view. Somehow, in the middle, they’ll find common ground and tough love.

Aimed at an audience nostalgic for the days when laugh tracks reigned supreme, Shifting Gears might find traction with those who prefer safe and predictable entertainment. But in a world where sitcoms like The Office ( I understand the appeal, but god, I hate that show and the culture of that show) and Parks and Recreation revolutionized the genre, this show feels like a relic built for people who refuse to embrace anything outside their cultural safe zone.

Every predictable trope is here front and center: Dennings will wind up making out with Stifler, and Allen will learn to embrace today and see that maybe people aren’t so bad after all. It makes me question what the executives at ABC were thinking when they greenlit this concept to lure in viewers who don’t stream. Was this made specifically for people to pass the time while they’re in the waiting room? Was this an effort to get Tim Allen back in the mainstream or at least visual to the people who likely share the same voting record as the guy who loves him some “Pure Michigan?” Every joke and about every character feels like they only exist to set Allen up for his flavorless quips.

Shifting Gears is family sitcom 101: there are no crass jokes, nothing crosses the line, and it’s all totally safe and made to sell toilet paper and boner pills during the breaks to anyone who’s still got their TV plugged straight into the wall. If they have Netflix or MAX or any other viewing option, they should do that.

The idea of a conservative dad running a classic car shop while navigating life with a liberal daughter and her two kids had the potential for sharp, timely comedy. Instead, the show steers straightforward of anything resembling nuance or meaningful conflict, reducing its banal characters to caricatures and its storylines to filler. Where modern sitcoms like Schitt’s Creek and Ted Lasso thrive by balancing humor with heart and nuanced character arcs, Shifting Gears doubles down on a formula that feels as old as the muscle cars in Matt Parker’s shop. Instead of offering a fresh perspective, it clings to outdated tropes, keeping its characters in place.

Kat Dennings tries to inject some life into Riley, but her sharp, sardonic timing can’t overcome the cardboard flat writing. Sean William Scott, meanwhile, is unrecognizable from his American Pie days, bringing a surprising warmth to the role of Stifler 2.0—but the show doesn’t give him enough to do. And Tim Allen? He’s Tim Allen. If you’ve seen his stand-up, you’ve seen this character.

I wanted to give you a bread recipe to read because it’s ultimately more interesting than this show. So, if you’ve got the itch for the world’s best raisin bread, it’s out there. And it will ultimately be a better use of your time than wasting it on Shifting Gears. Bon Appetit.

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