Netflix’s Surprise Hit Series ‘It’s Bruno’ is ‘Curb Your Enthusiasm’ But For Dog People

In a place like Brooklyn, two cities exist: a city of people, and a city of dog people. They overlap and intermingle, but make no mistake: if you’re a dog person, you live in a different world. While countless sitcoms have explored the challenges and neuroses of daily life in a big city; few, if any, have captured that for big city dogs. It’s Bruno, a hilarious new Netflix original series, does just that.

Rapper, filmmaker and writer Solvan Naim created the show, which spans eight quick-hit episodes (most are around 15 minutes long). It’s a fictionalized version of his own life as a dog-lover in Brooklyn; his co-star, the titular Bruno, is Naim’s real-life rescue dog. The two are inseparable as they face off against mean dogs at the park, gentrifiers who don’t clean up their dog’s poop, supermarket owners who won’t allow dogs in, competition with a rival dog who’s become a local celebrity, and price-gouging bodega owners who won’t stock the good turkey meat. There’s a few major plot arcs, but more than anything, the show focuses on the daily pleasures, hassles and stresses of raising a dog in the city — it’s Curb Your Enthusiasm, but for dog people.

Naim’s charm carries the show — he’s brash Brooklyn native to the core, colorfully cursing out overzealous park rangers and annoying stoop dwellers, but he’s soft-hearted when it comes to Bruno, the loyal puggle who follows him everywhere he goes. There’s obvious comedic chemistry between the real-life pair of man and best friend; it’s clear this isn’t some sitcom dog taking directions from an off-camera minder. The show starts with small problems — Bruno loves deli turkey, or “turkey meat”, as Naim’s character Malcolm refers to it — but the local bodega overcharges and doesn’t consistently carry it, while the more well-stocked supermarket won’t allow Bruno to enter. Fearing that Bruno might be nabbed by local dog thieves if he were tied up outside, Malcolm sees the problem as unsolvable. When it’s pointed out that he could simply leave the dog at home while he shops, he’s incredulous: “I’m not some absentee parent. Wherever he goes, I go.”

Out on the streets, meanwhile, Malcolm’s nagged at by the sneering Harvey — a fellow dog owner who delights in his dog’s better training. When Harvey’s dog scores a modeling gig that lands her on the cover of a dog food bag, she becomes a minor celebrity, and it drives Malcolm nuts. He hires a photographer who promises that he can make Bruno a star, too — only to find that Bruno’s likeness has been digitally edited onto the label of an anti-coprophagia treatment called “Enough Eating Crap!”. It’s the kind of madcap things-keep-getting-worse plotline that easily could’ve been a Larry David arc on Seinfeld or Curb, but it’s fresh, modern, and completely natural in Naim’s adept comedic hands.

These smaller indignities are soon overshadowed by a real danger — dog-nappers have been swiping pooches off the sidewalks of Malcolm’s Bushwick neighborhood, and he narrowly averts losing Bruno on a trip into the good grocery store. He soon meets Lulu, a mysterious and seductive stranger whose over-the-top fondness for Bruno leads Malcolm to question her motives in forming a romantic relationship with him. When this plotline comes to fruition, Malcolm finds himself in a spiral of self-destructive behavior — he simply can’t go on without his best friend Bruno.

The cast is perfect from top to bottom — beyond Naim’s beleaguered protagonist and Shakira Barrera’s scheming primary villain, they’re a well-mixed roster of well-drawn, outlandish-but-realistic characters that you truly could see inhabiting the same neighborhood. Chappelle’s Show alum Donnell Rawlings makes a memorable turn as the local junkie-slash-stolen-goods-entrepreneur, and a pair of overly-enthusiastic buddies running the local pet store provide a boost of energy every time they’re on screen.

As Netflix has expanded their roster of original comedy offerings, they’ve started to really break away from the strictures of broadcast or cable television scheduling. Just as they’ve done with Tim Robinson’s uproarious sketch comedy series I Think You Should Leave, they’ve given It’s Bruno short episodes that never drag under their own weight. The concept here might not work as a 22-minute sitcom; it might bog down in filling out extra scenes that it doesn’t need. Episodes as short as 11 minutes keep things moving along, and it’s an easy binge-watch, with a mere two hours of total runtime.

In identifying fresh, original voices and giving them near-total creative freedom, Netflix has been delivering exciting, groundbreaking content in recent years. Sometimes it’s not a reinvention of the wheel that’s needed, though — It’s Bruno feels like a worthy heir to the mantle of classic ensemble sitcoms, but with none of the rough edges sanded off for a mass audience. We’re meeting a new voice, and we’re hearing his story told exactly how he wants to tell it — and it’s absolutely hilarious.

Also, the dog is really cute.

Scott Hines is an architect, blogger and internet user who lives in Louisville, Kentucky with his wife, two young children, and a small, loud dog.