Episode 6’s “Ultimate Frisbee” proves the Emmy winner can command the camera as deftly as he steals a scene.

The actor, writer, producer, and newly minted Oscar nominee has worn more hats than an awards-season red carpet.

But The Four Seasons marks the first time Colman Domingo has stepped behind the lens of a half-hour comedy—and the results reveal an artist who directs with the same empathy he brings to every role.

In the autumn-set Episode 6, aptly titled “Ultimate Frisbee,” the multi-hyphenate guides Tina Fey, Steve Carell, Will Forte, Kerri Kenney-Silver, and Marco Calvani through heartbreak, hysterics, and one wildly symbolic lawn game. The episode is funny, poignant, and—if you know where to look—a quiet manifesto on how seasoned actors can reshape a TV set simply by slowing the world down.

Why this episode?

From the moment Netflix green-lit the eight-episode adaptation of Alan Alda’s 1981 film, showrunners Fey, Lang Fisher, and Tracey Wigfield dreamed of handing the camera to one of their stars.

Colman Domingo raised his hand for the third seasonal block—autumn—because it pushed every couple to an emotional precipice. Danny (Domingo) is grappling with mortality after a heart diagnosis; his husband Claude (Calvani) is smothering him with loving panic; Kate (Fey) and Jack (Forte) are drifting into therapy fatigue; Anne (Kenney-Silver) is still raw from Nick’s divorce declaration; and Nick himself (Carell) is reveling in puppy-love giddiness with younger girlfriend Ginny (Erika Henningsen).

“I wanted the turning-leaf moment,” Colman Domingo tells Tudum. “Autumn is when things look beautiful even as they decay. That duality felt right for a story about aging friendships and marriages.”

Patience as directing philosophy

Ask any colleague and they’ll use the same word: calm. Carell says Colman Domingo “absorbs the anxiety in the room and gives none back.” Kenney-Silver calls him “11 inches of focus,” referencing how close he sat to the lens while coaxing Fey and her through a porch-swing confessional. The director attributes that Zen aura to decades of stage work: “Theater teaches you that a moment can’t be rushed; it has to bloom.”

His method shows in the first big set piece. A casual backyard ultimate-frisbee match devolves into comic chaos—Nick dives too hard, Danny gasps for breath, Kate referees with snark, and Claude prances across the lawn in Gucci sweats. The sequence looks chaotic, but Colman Domingo shot it almost in real time, trusting actors to improvise within loose blocking and letting the camera float like the Frisbee itself. The result is both slapstick and poignant: every character’s flaw manifests in a single point of play.

Actor whisperer

Directing while starring can derail lesser mortals, yet Colman Domingo toggles effortlessly between giving notes and inhabiting Danny’s stylish sorrow. Fisher recalls a moment when he paused mid-take, tears still tracking his cheeks, to adjust a background extra’s pacing. “He’d sob, whisper a camera move, then sob again,” she laughs. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

His greatest coup comes later, when Danny and Claude finally clash over mortality. The scene starts in marital bickering and ends with Danny breaking down in Claude’s arms. Colman Domingo draws raw vulnerability from Calvani—no small feat, given the Italian actor’s natural flamboyance. Calvani says his director-scene partner “made silence safe,” waiting through multiple takes until the sob felt real rather than performative.

Sisterhood on the porch

Perhaps the episode’s crown jewel is a late-night talk between Kate and Anne. Fey and Kenney-Silver sit bundled in blankets, sipping wine, confessing fears about empty nests, lost dreams, and husbands who feel like strangers. Colman Domingo positions the camera inches from their faces, then pulls an old theater trick: he crouches beside the lens, maintaining eye contact to ground the actresses in shared emotion. Fey later quipped, “An Emmy winner staring lovingly into your soul makes you up your game.”

Fashion as character study

Even Danny’s wardrobe bears the director’s signature. Working with costume designer Michelle Cole, Colman Domingo insisted on oversized Milan streetwear, satin baseball caps, and limited-edition sneakers. “Danny travels; he collects; he refuses to age out of swagger,” the director explains. When Danny later dons an ill-fitting youth-league T-shirt for Frisbee—Claude’s desperate bid to baby him—the visual irony lands without dialogue.

Why patience matters to comedy

Comedy often hinges on pace, but Colman Domingo argues that slowing down can make punchlines sharper. “You can’t feel a laugh if you don’t feel the ache underneath,” he says. By letting characters sit in silence—Danny staring at his heart-monitor app, Kate and Anne choosing their next words—he primes the viewer for a richer release when the joke lands.

What comes next

Netflix hasn’t announced a second season, but the cast is lobbying for Colman Domingo to direct again. He’s game—provided he can keep his trademark calm. “We wrapped on time, every day,” he boasts. “Patience isn’t slow; it’s efficient.”

If the Emmys add a category for “Actor Who Makes Everyone Better,” they may need to engrave Colman Domingo on the statuette now.

The Four Seasons is streaming worldwide on Netflix.