Cover Our review of ‘The Paper’ explores newsroom chaos, satire and even romance in this new mockumentary from the creators of ‘The Office’ (Photo: stylised by Angela Nicole Guiral)
Our review of ‘The Paper’ explores newsroom chaos, satire and even romance in this new mockumentary from the creators of ‘The Office’ (Photo: stylised by Angela Nicole Guiral)
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From the makers of ‘The Office’ comes ‘The Paper’, where a struggling newsroom scrapes together unlikely laughter
Ned Sampson calls editing a newspaper “like having homework every day forever, until the paper fails and I lose my job.” He says it with a smile, as though the doom is part of the fun. The line lingers because it expresses what The Paper seems to aim for: comedy wrapped around decline, absurdity circling futility (and for anyone in publishing, hits a little too close to home).
This mockumentary comes from the same team that turned The Office into awkward glory. The connection is unavoidable: the Toledo Truth Teller stands to local journalism as Dunder Mifflin once did to stationery. The very crew that trailed our favourite misfits years ago now follows the staff of the newsroom. Familiar beats land with a jolt of nostalgia: cameras swivel at important moments, catching the slack-jawed pause of someone about to lie or the grimace of someone cornered. The cast glances at the lens as if it were another colleague. Jim Halpert’s stare still reigns supreme, but the instinct lingers here, too.
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Above The cast of ‘The Paper’ (Photo: courtesy of Peacock)
The cast of ‘The Paper’ (Photo: courtesy of Peacock)
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The first jolt, though, comes from absence. The cast feels slimmer, the chemistry faint. With The Office, there was something noteworthy from the start, affection and wariness for Michael Scott in the same breath. After “Diversity Day”, I remember thinking, “Is this man real?” The Paper’s new faces don’t hit that way, at least not at first. No one leaps out as a character: no Sheldon Cooper, no Raymond Holt, no Phil Dunphy. Instead, their presence builds slowly. I sympathised less through eccentric quirks than through newsroom vignettes: collapsing deadlines, dwindling resources and the battle to stay relevant. For anyone in the industry, the sting of a cut-off or an absurd editorial decision lands with painful recognition.
Domhnall Gleeson’s Ned arrives as freshly minted editor-in-chief, a salesman recast as newsroom leader. He is both ridiculous and capable, gamely encouraged that he can hold a sinking ship together with duct tape and morale. Opposite him is Mare Pritti, played by Chelsea Frei, an Army veteran turned reluctant “star reporter” who juggles cynicism with a thin thread of belief that news still matters. In her dry delivery, in the weariness beneath her sharpness, she becomes the character most worth following.
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Romance, inevitably, weaves its way in. Ned and Mare’s dynamic carries shades of Jim and Pam, though the pace feels rushed. Their interest flares a little too quickly for my taste, or perhaps I’ve grown too attached to slow-burn crushes stretched across seasons in The Office. Either way, the first season closes with only a kiss—a cliff-edge designed to lure us back.
If the show falters in places, it also finds its stride in some set pieces. One episode unites the staff in testing dubious consumer products, the moment sliding into slapstick. Another skewers click-driven journalism through Sabrina Impacciatore’s Esmeralda Grand, a flamboyant online editor demanding drama where there is none. These bursts of chaos inject rhythm into the otherwise subdued ensemble.
What lingers, though, is the portrait of journalism itself. The Toledo Truth Teller, once a towering newsroom, now feels like a relic rattling inside its own shell. The Paper sketches its decline with humour: archive footage shows the building’s glory years while the present-day staff shuffle around a few desks, chased by bills and corporate oversight. The series shows little sentimentality—its opening montage (song nostalgic, very familiar in tone) even mocks newsprint’s fate as food wrapping and puppy-training fodder. Yet it treats the characters’ stubborn commitment with affection. They are ridiculous, but they care, and that mix saves the series from cynicism.
The question of identity hangs over season one. Is Ned a bluffer in a suit, or a scrappy improviser making something out of scraps? Is Mare the newsroom’s heart, or just another weary worker waiting to burn out? These contradictions can feel like stumbles, but they may also be deliberate. Realistic. In truth, personalities can bleed into each other, like ambition grinding against fatigue or idealism clashing with self-preservation.
As a viewer, I wavered between frustration and intrigue. The first half of the season stretches thin, the ensemble still learning its rhythm. By the finale, though, there are lines that cut and scenes that sing. Crucially, it plants seeds for richer stories: rivalries that could deepen, romances that might ignite or collapse, absurdities that could spiral into genuine wit.
Above The documentary crew that immortalised Dunder Mifflin’s Scranton branch in the Emmy Award-winning series ‘The Office’ find a new subject when they discover a historic Midwestern newspaper and the publisher trying to revive it
What makes The Paper compelling, even in its unevenness, is how it mirrors the very subject it depicts. Newspapers persist through inertia, nostalgia, stubbornness and hope. So does this show. It survives its teething pains because there is something funny (and a little tragic) about watching people cling to relevance while the world shrugs and scrolls.
Season one ends like a first draft: messy and hesitant. But a first draft is still a beginning, and beginnings carry promise. Andy Bernard’s line from The Office comes to mind: “I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.” For the staff of the Toledo Truth Teller, and for us watching, these days may already be the good ones, only unrecognised for now.
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Angela Nicole Regis Guiral is the assistant digital editor of Tatler Philippines. She studied journalism and has since written features that look closely at how culture, lifestyle and social impact converge, while occasionally wandering into the worlds of style and travel.
