"The Decameron."

The Netflix black comedy about the Black Death gets the Two Episode Test -- with a twist.

I can remember having more than one conversation — okay, probably thousands — with fans of television (and sometimes other TV critics) about my never wanting to do a combined Best Of the Year or Top 10 Best series list where drama and comedy would mix.

Never.

Or why, when pressed on something like “the five best series ever,” all of them would be dramas.

And finally, why I stopped trying to teach pure comedies in my Visual Studies class at a fancy arts college (dark comedies that could arguably be dramas were fine).

The answer? Comedy is subjective, even if you think it’s not. And the range of reactions created a chasm that could not be crossed, much less logically understood or appreciated.

We all laugh at different things and, very often, two people who share “the same sense of humor” can have vastly different opinions about a comedy.

Which brings me to “The Decameron,” the Netflix medieval black comedy about the Black Death and perhaps a spoof of reality shows like “Survivor” and class study series like “Downton Abbey,” a smattering of sex comedies and a distant love of “Monty Python”-like silliness.

Note: Not absurdity. Silliness.

Don’t get it twisted.

How a series like “The Decameron” lands with a viewer is anyone’s guess, and watching it with my partner was like watching a split-screen reaction of one person hoping it would be better and the other utterly delighted about how the first two episodes (of eight) have unfolded.

Your mileage may vary. A lot.

I’m the person who wished it would be better, but who also found parts of it appealing and funny and who, through experience, knows that it’s only two episodes and thus possible it will get better or I’ll just be in a different mood when I sit down for the third episode.

She’s the person who said, “Tell me nothing about it, not even the premise, and hit play.” And she’s the one who laughed a lot more and was into the goofy vibe and broad swaths of over-the-top performances.

The performances that reminded me I’d rather just watch “Monty Python” or something like “What We Do In the Shadows.”

But I also saw that weird dichotomy of two people who often laugh constantly and mostly at the same thing, each ride differing wavelengths while sharing the same couch. I found that kind of fascinating. And mystifying.

And for what it’s worth, this exact same situation — only in reverse — happened on Sunday night when we watched “Veep” (three episodes in that instance). She laughed. I laughed hard and often. I laughed when she was smiling.

So, a thing was happening in real time. In “The Decameron,” I smiled a lot, laughed occasionally, and looked in bemusement at her cracking up. Once I let out a heavy sigh, the kind that says, well, this isn’t my thing and this second episode isn’t moving the needle, at the moment she laughed pretty hard.

I thought it was fair, then, to offer up a comedy is subjective Two Episode Test.

For your enjoyment. Or confusion.

Before I knew that “The Decameron” was based on a book from (checks notes) THE 14TH CENTURY, my initial reaction was, “Wow, that’s a terrible title.” My updated reaction is, “That’s still a terrible title.”

This is “Terriers” in spoof clothing.

Beyond that, and guessing out of hand that you either a) haven’t read the source material and b) probably aren’t going to, say, order it from Amazon, you should be aware for posterity that series creator Kathleen Jordan has taken a lot of liberties, apparently, with the plot and concept.

I applaud her for that, while also admitting that had she taken it word for Italian word from the original, I also would not have cared. This is one of those meant-to-be-goofy modern takes while also playing it as a costume drama set in the same period as the book. I mean, it’s the Black Death. You can carbon date that.

When the second episode finished I said, “Well, you can finish that up on your own,” so at least you know where I stand. And I think she’s definitely going to do just that, so you know where she stands.

On the plus side, I did like some (but not all) of the casting, particularly Tanya Reynolds (“Sex Education”), Saoirse-Monica Jackson (“Derry Girls”) and of course Tony Hale (“Veep,” “Arrested Development”).

Zosia Mamet (“Girls”) also has a major role here, but for me Mamet is one of those actors where a little goes a long way depending on what she’s asked to do, and what she’s asked to do in “The Decameron” means there’s a lot going a long, long way. So my judge-y thumb is the scale, to be clear.

The premise is perhaps deceptively easy — it’s 1348 and a group of nobles and their servants decide to flee to the hills of Tuscany, invited by another nobleman, to ride out the plague at his immense castle where the Black Death hasn’t quite reached. So it’s like a zombie movie and vacation rom-com, only broadly played.

But let’s switch back to the main issue here — this is very clearly a matter of subjective taste. “The Decameron” is either going to be your thing or it’s not, but it’s also probably something you can ride out if your partner or bestie really gets into it. Hale is always good for his Hale-isms of panic and gleeful lying to keep the peace, while Reynolds is magnetic and funny in every scene, gifted with a face that is both expressively rubbery and lovely. Her comic timing is impeccable.

I should note that my partner doesn’t really like “Monty Python” humor and while I think it’s an insurmountable leap to make the connection, there’s perhaps more in here than she thinks; there are skit-like elements of pure silliness, played large and loud, that you might find remotely familiar.

I could watch “Monty Python” on a loop, but probably not this for eight episodes.

That’s not helping, is it? None of this probably is.

She also likes really smart comedies in the Wes Anderson mold, as I do, and there’s absolutely non of that here, so go figure. She’s also sometimes savagely unwilling to cut a show any slack when it goes big and in turn goes too far, but was delighted at the off-kilter approach here and wanted more. Like, hey they’re trying something different, why not.

Humor. It’s complicated. And subjective.

I’m sure this didn’t help you decide on “The Decameron” at all. And you’re welcome.