Hilarious up-and-comer Cooper Raiff returns to Sundance with his indie sensibilities channeled through a deeply emotional season of television. Give a warm welcome to Hal & Harper, Raiff’s bittersweet dramedy that charts decades of fractured family history and complex sibling dynamics. In a surprising development, the two leads, played by series creator Raiff (Cha Cha Real Smooth, Shithouse) and Lili Reinhart (Riverdale, Chemical Hearts), also stand in for their childhood selves. Seeing adult actors commingling with second and third graders adds a much-needed dash of physical comedy. It also keeps us locked in with these characters, underlining that though we evolve as people, part of us stays exactly the same. Hal & Harper uses nonlinear storytelling and a mesmerizing ensemble cast in telling a transformative coming-of-age tale of healing and self-discovery.
Raiff and Reinhart are Hal and Harper, respectively, a set of siblings forced to grow up far too quickly after their mother committed suicide. They were raised by their single father (Emmy-winner Mark Ruffalo, The Avengers, The Normal Heart) instead, who did the best he could but quite frankly was not mentally or emotionally equipped to handle either child by himself. Hal & Harper explores the relationship between all three of them from top to bottom, constantly jumping in and out of the past to reveal misadventures and that rocky transition into adulthood. Raiff writes the trio so thoroughly that their every misstep becomes believable. As in life, these are flawed people with specific points of view, and overt character quirks.
For Hal, he focuses on his schooling, yet ends up partying more than anything else. He ropes Harper into going on a late-night McDonalds run in the first episode, signaling the co-dependecy of their relationship. Though he has roommates and a couple of friends, Hal’s one true companion is his sister. Hal begins a casual relationship with one-night-stand Abby (Havana Rose Liu, Bottoms, The Sky is Everywhere) early on. Can her influence finally inject Hal with a newfound sense of maturity? Raiff has plenty of fun as the elementary-school version of Hal, too, leaning into his hyperactivity. A scene where he gets stuck in a tire swing had me laughing out loud. Young Hal has trouble connecting with the other kids at school. Every chance at having a common overlap or actual fun with his father comes with an overenthusiastic response.
On the other hand, Harper begins the series in a rather unappealing way: she cheats on Jess (Alyah Chanelle Scott, Reboot, The Sex Lives of College Girls), her girlfriend of six years, with coworker Audrey (Addison Timlin, Odd Thomas, The Town That Dreaded Sundown). A rift has formed between Harper and Jess, namely because Jess wants to move away to Dallas while Harper would rather stay put in Los Angeles. Harper undergoes the most growth in this first season, still trying to make sense of her mother’s abrupt death all those years ago. Young Harper definitely has a coldness to her—though she interacts more with the other children than Hal, she does not get invited to parties. She only casually pursues an interest in music that still does not reap her enthusiasm. For all intents and purposes, both versions of Harper are going through the motions, trying to make sense of the senseless.
The flashbacks frequently provide poignant context to the present-day struggles. Their father’s much younger girlfriend, Kate (Betty Gilpin, Glow, The Hunt), and their bun in the oven make Dad spiral in an existential crisis. He couldn’t handle Hal and Harper, so how can he possibly handle another? What happens if the baby is born with birth defects or mental health problems? Ruffalo has a difficult role, with less showy dialogue than either Hal or Harper. His father figure must display an inner turmoil without outwardly spilling his emotions. That makes their actual verbal interactions all the more meaningful when they sparingly occur. Getting a glimpse into the type of father he was in the past helps form a complete picture of his relationship with the kids.
The standout performance comes courtesy of Reinhart, who receives the most care in the frequently upsetting tapestry of her history. While Hal’s segments are usually a little lighter, Harper’s are heavier, and sometimes heartbreaking. Their mother’s absence also looms large. This shapes much of their relationship with their dad, and subsequently, with one another. The added tenderness of the childhood portrayal adds a light touch, a cohesive addition that serves the story rather than deflating the momentum. Hal & Harper ultimately makes for a quick and easy binge with its continuous story and compelling character interplay. It can be difficult to follow the trajectory of the time-jumping structure, but that disorientation is few and far between. There are always year markers for the substantial leaps. Each episode also runs a tight thirty minutes or less, except for the hour-long finale. Though double the length of the other episodes, all threads tie together into a deeply satisfying whole. Despite being an indie production and currently without distribution, Raiff already has multiple seasons mapped out. Fingers crossed that we get to see what else he has in store—there are plenty of dangling threads by the closing chapter that beg to be picked back up again. An emotional rollercoaster riddled with quirky moments and tearjerking drama, Hal & Harper weaves a hopeful message across its gripping eight episodes.
Hal & Harper‘s first four episodes had their world premiere at 2025’s Sundance Film Festival, with the entire first season available for a breezy binge on their online platform.
