1670 Season 3 and the Art of Laughing at Our Own Flaws

I watched the third season of “1670” and came away with a simple conclusion: this is still a series you can relax with. You do not have to take every scene apart or run an investigation in your head called “what exactly did the creators mean?”. You can just sit down, start an episode and let the absurdity do its thing.

I am not going to decide whether the third season is better than the first. I am not sure about that. What I do know is that I enjoyed it more than season two: the pacing was better and it gave me more reasons to laugh. For this kind of series, that is a fairly important result.

Does the third season of “1670” still work?

My answer is yes, although “works” does not mean that every viewer will laugh at the same moments. “1670” has always relied on a very specific kind of humour. It is a costume comedy, but not one that reverently recreates old clothes, customs and major historical events. The costumes and production design are more like a framework for jokes about things that are very much part of the present day.

The series is publicly described as a combination of comedy, satire, absurdity and mockumentary. Those are useful descriptions, but they still do not explain why “1670” makes some people laugh and wears others out. What I value most is that the series does not pretend every scene has to lead to a grand finale. Sometimes all you need is a strange idea, a good facial expression and a silence that lasts just long enough.

Why is it so easy to relax with this series?

I like watching things that do not require me to overthink everything. After a full day, I do not always feel like watching a production where I have to remember names, follow five levels of intrigue and wonder whether the character standing in the background for seven seconds will be crucial in the finale. Sometimes I just want to watch something that lets me breathe.

The third season of “1670” fits that need very well. I am not saying it is empty or short of ideas. It is more about the way those ideas are delivered. Humour stays in the foreground, and I do not have to write an instruction manual for every joke. I can laugh, roll my eyes, think “what did I just watch?” and carry on. That is a surprisingly pleasant way to rest.

Where does the absurdity in “1670” come from?

What works best for me is the way the series brings the modern world into its own version of the past. A good example is the Paczkomat parcel locker. The idea alone is enough to put two things together that you would not expect to see in the same place. On one side there is Adamczycha, the nobility, the peasants and the costumes. On the other there is a solution associated with online shopping and waiting for a notification in an app.

This is not just a joke about putting a modern word into an old world. The more important part is recognising the mechanism. We know our modern habits, so we can immediately see how ridiculous or strangely logical they might look after being moved several centuries back. That is why the absurdity in “1670” does not need to be complicated. Move one thing a few centuries in either direction and see what happens.

I like it when an anachronism does not need its own explanation. The character does not have to look into the camera and say, “That was a joke, dear viewer.” The clash is enough. The Paczkomat is funny precisely because it does not need a long introduction. We recognise an ordinary part of everyday life and then see it in a place where it absolutely should not be. Suddenly a normal parcel delivery acquires the importance of a historical event.

Is the wall-breaking gag still funny?

Yes. Especially the regular wall-breaking, which has already become one of the elements that allow you to recognise “1670”. I like recurring jokes when they are not treated as an obligatory item on a writer’s checklist. Here they still work because they fit the logic of this world.

This kind of humour reminds me a little of “Captain Bomba” and Walaszek’s work in general. I am not saying the styles are identical or trying to compare the two productions scene by scene. I mean being willing to accept that a joke can be stupid, exaggerated and completely unnecessary, and still work. That simplicity is part of its strength. Not every joke has to be a brilliant piece of social commentary. Some of them just need to make you laugh before you have time to ask whether you should be laughing.

That is why I would not try to persuade someone who does not like this kind of humour. You can explain the construction of the joke, the context and the satire, but after a few minutes you start sounding like a guide taking visitors around an exhibition called “Why This Is Supposed to Be Funny”. Someone who does not connect with the convention probably will not change their mind because I enjoyed another absurd idea.

Does season 3 have better pacing than season 2?

In my view, yes. The pacing is what made the third season feel more interesting than the second. It is not that every minute is suddenly packed with jokes and the characters are moving across the screen as if they were on a borrowed treadmill. The whole thing simply moves from one situation to the next more smoothly.

That makes it easier to get into the rhythm of the series. One gag does not have to wait around for the next scene, and the episodes do not feel as if somebody is stretching a joke beyond the point where it was still funny. I am not talking about exact measurements or a table showing the number of jokes per minute. It is just my impression after watching it: there was more laughter and fewer moments when I was waiting for something to finally get moving.

When I say “more interesting”, I do not mean that I suddenly got a thriller with chases, mysteries and a chart of character connections pinned to the wall. I mean the simple desire to start the next episode. The humour appeared more often when I needed it, and the story did not feel as if it had taken a coffee break.

That may sound like a small thing, but in comedy, pacing is almost as important as the joke itself. Even a good idea can fall flat if you have to wait too long for it. In the third season, I felt that the series remembered this simple rule more often. Not every entrance has to end in an explosion of laughter, but it should not feel like waiting for a bus that was supposed to arrive fifteen minutes ago.

Is the third season better than the first?

I do not know. And I do not think I have to decide. The first season had the freshness that does not come back in exactly the same form later. The viewer already knows the world of “1670”, recognises the characters and knows that something completely out of place may appear at any moment. That changes the way you watch it.

I could give the seasons scores, line them up and announce a winner. But why? In this case, what matters more to me is that the third season still has its own energy. I am not trying to prove that it surpassed everything that came before. It is enough that, after season two, I got an instalment that felt more interesting, faster and funnier.

What about the characters and the cast?

The third season benefits from the fact that viewers already know the world of Adamczycha and its main characters. There is no need to explain from scratch who Jan Paweł, Jakub, Aniela or Andrzej are. You can jump straight into the next situations and watch their personalities collide with the absurdity around them.

The series still features, among others, Bartłomiej Topa, Michał Sikorski, Martyna Byczkowska, Andrzej Kłak, Dobromir Dymecki and Kirył Pietruczuk. The cast matters not because a list of names should convince anyone to watch. Comedy often depends on the way a small line, a look or a reaction is delivered when something is obvious to everyone except one character.

Is “1670” laughing at Polish people?

Yes, but I do not see that as a reason to take offence. It is important to be able to laugh at your own country and your own flaws. If every satire is treated as an attack on your identity, we very quickly end up sitting there with our arms folded and a face like a tax office waiting room.

“1670” takes aim at the nobility, the peasants, ambition, privilege, pettiness and our fondness for presenting ourselves as an exceptionally special nation. It moves these traits into an exaggerated world, which makes them easier to see. This is not a history lecture or an attempt to describe every Polish person with one joke. It is satire, and exaggeration helps it point at something familiar.

Laughing at our own flaws does not mean we have to pretend those flaws do not matter. You can see a problem and still laugh at its absurd side. That is more interesting to me than comedy that only points at other people. It is easier to laugh at someone else’s faults, because then you can sit comfortably in the audience and pretend the show has nothing to do with you.

Is absurd humour for everyone?

No. And I do not consider that a problem. I know people who simply do not connect with this kind of humour. Some viewers do not want scenes built around the clash between an old world and a Paczkomat parcel locker, absurd behaviour or a joke that briefly looks like a script error.

Someone looking for a realistic story, carefully structured drama or comedy based exclusively on sharp dialogue may bounce off this production. “1670” does not try to be elegant all the time. Sometimes it deliberately drops down to a joke that is so simple it becomes almost shameless. Some people will see that as a strength. Others will switch the series off after the first episode.

Do you need to know the previous seasons?

Knowing the first and second seasons helps because it makes the relationships and recurring elements of the world easier to understand. I do not need to refresh the entire story before every episode, though. That is another reason this series works well as something to watch when you want to rest.

The third season has eight episodes and arrived on Netflix on 5 August 2026. The public synopsis mentions Jan Paweł’s identity crisis, the royal court, family relationships, a conflict with Jakub and a school for peasants. That is enough context to show where the season is going, but there is no point treating it as a viewing manual. It is better to enter this world and see whether its absurdity works for you.

I am not going to summarise the episodes or list every plot twist. First, that would spoil part of the fun for people who are planning to watch. Second, that is not what this article is about. I am not writing a technical review that takes the script apart piece by piece. This is simply an account of the viewing experience: I watched it, laughed and decided that the creators still know how to use the absurd potential of this world.

Who is the third season of “1670” for?

Above all, it is for fans of the series. If you liked the earlier humour and do not mind comedy deliberately going too far, the third season should give you a few enjoyable evenings. This season gave me more laughter and better pacing than the second one, and that was enough for me to enjoy watching it.

I would also recommend it to people who like absurdity and can laugh at their own flaws. I would not recommend it to someone who sees an anachronism and immediately wants to file a complaint with the historical-compliance department. This is not a series to watch with a ruler, magnifying glass and examination board. It is about playing with the convention.

The third season of “1670” did not change my life, and that is not why I watched it. I wanted to relax, laugh and spend a few episodes not overthinking anything bigger than why a Paczkomat parcel locker appeared in the seventeenth century. And that is exactly what I got.