Naturally it prepares for its own end like a pro, not with sound and fury but with moments and gestures that recommit to the show’s belief in the dignity and absurdity of life, made all the more poignant by the knowledge that this is the end. The gravity of death and the parade of life combine to give Getting On an uncommon mood.

In its third and final season, the series is still brilliantly droll, elevating the most mundane moments into something that’s either hilariously awkward or genuinely moving--or, at its best, both.

The first four episodes of this new season are among the series’ best.... Network trauma dramas come and go--and with them a lot of serious doctors and nurses and miserable patients--but rarely do we see a show that understands life in a hospital as well as Getting On did.

The first four episodes of this season, though skillfully directed by Miguel Arteta, vary in effectiveness, but the third is pretty perfect, particularly Rhea Perlman’s performance as a double-amputee convict determined to escape from her hospital bed.

In any given episode, all three of these actresses may be called upon for slapstick comedy (for Ms. Metcalf, in the season premiere, there’s an outlandish scene in a bathroom stall), deadpan humor and actual pathos, since their patients are often frail, facing dementia or outright dying. And they deliver with nuanced performances that turn quick glances or sighs into punch lines.

While Getting On might seem confining--and hardly funny--it’s one of the best workplace comedies on television. Like both versions of “The Office,” it embraces stray looks, asides and slyly funny commentary.