The Paper: Same Office, New Ink
(Rather listen than read. Here is the audio, which may occasionally go off track.)
Note: Mild spoilers for episode one of The Paper.
Let’s get this out of the way early. When NBC announced a new Greg Daniels comedy called The Paper, a spin-off (or sequel, or spiritual cousin twice removed) of The Office, my eyebrow shot up so fast it nearly needed its own spin-off. Do we need more workplace mockumentary? Wasn’t Abbott Elementary already holding that crown? And didn’t we all agree after the final episode of The Office that maybe—just maybe—we’d let the documentary crew rest?
Turns out, nope. The crew are still here, still filming, and this time they’ve rolled their tripods into Toledo, Ohio. The premise: Dunder Mifflin officially shut down in 2019 (revealed, of course, by the one man who could deliver this sort of corporate obituary—Bob Vance, Vance Refrigeration). The company was swallowed by Enervate, an Ohio-based paper giant, and our documentary friends clearly decided paper still had comic mileage. Except this time, it’s not just copy paper. It’s a newspaper.
Yes, the cameras now follow the Toledo Truth Teller, a so-called “local paper” that is basically an advertising circular with news aggregated from other sites. It’s the kind of depressing truth that makes you laugh, then wince. And if you’ve ever wondered who runs such an operation, the answer is: an actual David Brent.
Enter Ken Davies, played by Tim Key, who leans into cringe with the same committed awkwardness as Ricky Gervais in the early days. Ken’s happy enough with the “status quo” (read: not actually doing journalism, just showing whatever fills the gaps). Of course, every sitcom office needs its disruptor, and that arrives in the form of Ned Sampson (Domhnall Gleeson). Ned’s the new editor, wide-eyed, idealistic, and convinced the future of newspapers is… the past. He wants ink on paper, shoe-leather reporting, and stories that matter. He also desperately wants people to like him. The result is that he accidentally inspires a team of “volunteer journalists” to start writing the real news. Idealism colliding with corporate apathy, classic comedy fuel.
Old Faces in New Places
The big crossover moment comes courtesy of Oscar Martinez (Oscar Nuñez), who pops up in Toledo and instantly insists he has no interest in being filmed again. Which, of course, means he’s back on camera in seconds. It’s a brilliant choice for the crossover. Oscar was always the reluctant truth-teller of Scranton, so putting him in the orbit of a failing local paper feels perfect. He doesn’t want to do it, but he really does.
Behind the scenes, the pedigree is reassuringly familiar. Greg Daniels, the man who shepherded The Office from awkward first season to cultural juggernaut, is co-creator alongside Michael Koman (known for Saturday Night Live and Nathan for You). Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant even get writing credits, since the DNA still traces back to their original Office. In other words, it’s an extended family reunion, just with more Ohio and slightly less Scranton.
The New Ensemble
What makes or breaks a workplace sitcom isn’t the premise. It’s the ensemble. Luckily, The Paper has assembled a strong one.
Ned (Domhnall Gleeson): earnest, slightly naïve, wants to be loved, and the type of man who thinks he has the answers. Spoiler: it does not.
Ken (Tim Key): the Brent-esque boss, dripping in misplaced confidence, and clearly threatened by Ned’s arrival.
Esmeralda (Sabrina Impacciatore): fiery, passionate, and recently usurped by Ned for the editor role. She teams up with Ken in a slow-burn office coup.
Mare (Chelsea Frei): set up as Ned’s will-they-won’t-they counterpart, clearly meant to echo Jim and Pam or Tim and Dawn. Sweet, but perhaps too predictable.
Travis (Eric Rahill) and Nicole (Romana Young): the real wildcard pairing. Their chemistry is fun, oddball, and arguably more engaging than the designated romantic leads. They’re the duo you find yourself rooting for without even realising it.
The office also shares space with the folks who manage toilet paper distribution, which is both a running gag and a sly metaphor: in Toledo, news and loo roll are equally disposable.
Familiar, But That’s the Point
Here’s the thing: The Paper isn’t trying to be radically new. It knows exactly what it’s doing. People don’t want The Office 2.0, they want The Office with just enough difference to feel fresh. A similar rhythm of awkward silences, absurd management, reluctant heroes, and unrequited crushes. That’s what the show delivers.
In fact, the opening episodes feel stronger than The Office did in its early U.S. run. Remember how shaky those first six Scranton episodes were, before the writers realised Michael Scott worked better with warmth than malice? The Paper skips that teething stage. The characters arrive sharper, the world more grounded. That said, it hasn’t hit the highs of peak Office yet (and maybe it never will, few shows could). But as a viewer, it’s oddly comforting. Like slipping on an old hoodie you forgot you loved.
How The Paper Came to Print
Worth noting: NBC initially planned to drop six episodes at once, then release the final four weekly. A release strategy that screamed, “We’re not sure if people will stick around.” In reality, that hesitation wasn’t necessary. The audience clearly wanted in, and the full season works better binged than rationed.
It also dropped into an interesting comedy moment in the UK. At the same time, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia launched another blisteringly sharp season (somehow still fresh after 20 years), while the much-teased Mitchell and Webb Aren’t Funny sputtered out before I even considered pressing play. In that context, The Paper felt like part of a wave, a reminder that comedy on TV is back, and back with confidence.
The Verdict
So where does that leave The Paper? For me, it’s in that sweet spot of familiar but new. It’s not reinventing the mockumentary, nor should it. It’s playing the hits, with a few fresh chords. The cast is strong, the writing confident, and the DNA of The Office intact without being a carbon copy.
Yes, the Ned/Mare romance might feel like well-worn ground, but the Travis/Nicole dynamic hints at more surprises. Yes, Ken might echo Brent a little too closely, but Tim Key wrings plenty of laughs from it. And yes, Oscar popping up is pure fan service, but tell me you didn’t grin when he said he didn’t want to do this again.
I finished the first episode thinking not, “Oh no, another reboot,” but “Ah, finally, something that feels both safe and exciting.” With comedy, that’s a rare balance.
Comedy right now feels like it’s on the up again. After years of “is comedy dead?” think pieces, here we are with a new shows that has actual bite, an old show finding new rhythm, and the sense that laughter is back on the cultural menu. I’m more than happy to ride this wave, and if The Paper keeps delivering, I’ll happily keep subscribing to Toledo’s least reliable newspaper.
What did you think? Let me know below.
Thank you!
