Critic Reviews

Misleading premise or no, Sexy Beasts isn’t without its pleasures. One is the awkward near-slapstick of watching a woman with a dolphin head try to nurse a beer, or a man with a beaver head try to kiss through enormous rubber teeth. Another: Rob Delaney’s good-natured but snarky narration. Watching contestants struggle to cough up innuendo or a personality, occasionally for what seems like for the first time, is a treasure.

For the most part, everyone navigates each other's strange appearance with a good sense of humor while the audience delights in the absolute stupidity of it all.

As a viewer, the big reveals were good fun, even as we, unlike the participants, were disappointed.

At times it’s like watching single-cell organisms trying to make conversation. ... “Sexy Beasts” is interesting, nonetheless, with little moments of revelation mixed in with the silliness.

We’re really just recommending Sexy Beasts for Rob Delaney’s narration. The rest of the show is just weird at times, creepy at others.

Attention to detail doesn’t extend past the makeup, as the show is neither subversive nor insightful. The predictability of the final choices even takes the mindless fun out of it.

The brief episodes are so relentless in terms of establishing the situation, explaining the format, setting up a panoply of individual dates, and providing endless and witless editorial comment, that little sparkles through the spackle. And the makeup applied to the competitors lacks the verve and oddity of the costuming on “The Masked Singer.” It’s all technically perfect — transforming young and eligible people into zombies, trolls, beavers, and dolphins. But this seamlessness leaves little room for personality.

Weds the hidden-face conceit of "The Masked Singer" to "The Dating Game," yielding predictably ridiculous results.

Sexy Beasts is shallow in concept and creaky in execution. Its heavy production choices—obtrusive narration, rigid structure, inorganic set-ups—feel especially dated. ... But more sinful is this show’s apparent refusal to do anything remotely interesting with its concept. Its mind-numbing repetition of the same punchline—people in funny costumes getting pedicures and, when they’re lucky, struggling to get their prosthetic noses out of the way for a kiss—gives diminishing returns each time.

All of this is executed with the least possible effort or ingenuity, from the generic bar where the first dates take place to the casting, which must’ve prioritized cockiness over all other traits. ... Episodes that top out at 25 minutes feel twice as long and culminate in no great desire to hit the “next episode” button.