Twitch City is more like a mirror than a sit-com. Co-creator Don McKellar stars as Curtis, a deliberate shut-in who spends virtually all of his waking and sleeping life hypnotized by his TV. He has the slacker look down pat: faded t-shirt and bathrobe, a bowl of sugary cereal in hand, and a complexion suggesting serious vitamin D deficiency. The series features a rotating cast of oddball roommates, helping to pay the rent until their annoying quirks become pathological. I can’t decide which is worse, the crazy cat lady or the Neo-Nazis. Molly Parker plays Hope, the left-behind girlfriend of Nathan, the apartment’s original tenant. He was jailed for killing a homeless bum with a can of cat food, and the prison lifestyle suits his OCD better than a slobbish roomie. In his absence Curtis conveniently fills the co-dependent needs of Hope, whose inferiority complex keeps her floating between entry-level jobs. Despite any surface similarities to a typical ensemble comedy (including a visit from Three’s Company’s Joyce DeWitt), watching Twitch City feels like being in a Twilight Zone episode. Any time Curtis shows a glimmer of redemption, he unveils a new anti-social flaw. Although there is no laugh track, a canned audience from the background TV often punctuates the dark humor with ironic timing. Wacky set-ups are carefully constructed and sometimes not followed through with or explained, adding to the disturbing atmosphere of lives on hold. It’s the kind of show where cats can rule the planet for a day and you won’t question it.

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