They [Nick Hornby, Stephen Frears, Rosamund Pike and Chris O’Dowd] have created something close to a masterpiece (or 10). It seems like a double-marriage of true minds. The quartet make it look effortless, even artless, but every aspect, every frame, every word, every beat is a perfectly considered, crafted and curated thing that creates something even greater than the sum of its parts.

I think it’s safe to posit that State of the Union is the right iteration of what it is, a marriage of form and function that is at least as functional as the marriage it depicts.

The narrowness of the show helps it wear its drawing-room lightness well, and it is littered with tiny delights.

With the talent on hand in front of and behind the camera, this series easily could have gotten away with something closer to the In Treatment model, where Tom and Louise argue for close to a half-hour each time. But in a TV landscape where episodes and seasons can overstay their welcome, State of the Union turns out to be the perfect length.

Even when the writing feels a little vague or forced, Pike and O’Dowd make the scenes work. ... It’s hard to be pessimistic, because both performances are so expressive, aware and alive.

State of the Union pulls off a neat trick; given both its short running time and its fleetness of dialogue, we never get tired of hearing this couple’s arguments, which could in other contexts be tiresome and circular. And both partners’ minds are so wide-ranging that — with an assist from Frears’s fleet direction — the show never grows claustrophobic.

Fans of dialogue-heavy, character-driven storytelling will be intrigued, but the redundancy of the setting renders “State of the Union” less bingeable.