If you’ve been following me here on Miscelana, you know I’m usually generous with TV shows. But when a series is shallow, repetitive, or built on a questionable premise (yes, Shrinking, I’m talking to you), my patience runs thin. Loot is rapidly joining that list. The Maya Rudolph-led comedy has somehow reached its third season, and midway through, it’s still going nowhere.

The original idea was clever: to poke fun at hypocrisy — one of my favorite targets — especially among today’s celebrities and billionaires, detached from reality yet obsessed with “doing good.” There’s an endless parade of people who make a fortune not only by stating the obvious but by lecturing the rest of us on how to save the planet and help the poor — without ever touching their own wealth. In that world, Molly Wells fits perfectly. The problem is that Loot, which could have been a sharp satire, is losing both focus and bite.

There are major cracks in how the show portrays its “well-intentioned billionaire.” From the start, we know Molly didn’t grow up rich — her cousin makes that clear — so it’s odd how clueless she seems about real life outside her bubble. It would have been far more interesting to watch her truly struggle to live up to her own altruistic speeches, to see the discomfort of giving up the luxuries she gained through marriage. Because, let’s face it: she’s rich because of a divorce, not because she ever built anything herself.

Three seasons in, Molly keeps promising to donate “all” her money to help others, yet she hasn’t managed to invest meaningfully in anything. The show spends more time on her dating life and on proving how “sweetly naive” she is than on anything resembling actual growth. And it’s exhausting.

The best character remains Nicholas — her image-obsessed, arrogant assistant, who tags along on every misguided adventure but is the only one sustaining Molly’s illusion that she’s changing the world. Sofia, the NGO director who was once the show’s moral anchor (and who had a charming romance last season), is now sidelined, bitter, and perpetually exasperated by everyone’s hypocrisy. Both characters could easily gain more in the series.

By episode three, a deepfake video of Molly goes viral, threatening the foundation’s reputation. The team flies to England, where she’s set to receive a philanthropy award — though she hasn’t done anything remotely award-worthy. Instead of diving into that irony, the episode goes for a predictable “mock the British” bit that feels tired and uninspired.

And so Loot — a title that plays on the idea of “wealth gained from a millionaire divorce,” a metaphor for both material fortune and post-breakup self-discovery — has fallen into a joyless, uninspired loop.

I’m still rooting for it to find something new to say. Until then, I’ll keep hate-watching — with affection, but also with a sigh.