by Sam Levinson Idol– at least on the basis of its first two episodes, which surprisingly premiered at the Cannes Film Festival – bad. But you already knew that. It was always a given Rape Culture: The Show especially director Amy Seimetz (Girlfriend Experience) and Levinson instead (Nepotism Experience).
If you had been following closely, you would have heard that there were extremely expensive remakes that completely restructured the series following Seimetz’s departure. That much can be seen on screen in a story that is painfully ripped from any substance. Instead, it’s given an increasingly somber and senseless succession of music video-style footage, slow-motion sequences, and obscene overheads, depicting Lily-Rose Depp in various undressing situations as her character Jocelyn struggles through her life and career.
There is nothing here. From the series’ original concept – a shady boss taking over the career of a pop star – only bare bones remain. In the first two episodes, you can pretty much pick out that skeleton, as we see Jocelyn struggle to get over her mother’s recent death and release her new single, which is clearly based on Britney Spears and Miley Cyrus.
Surrounded by a group of varying degrees of well-meaning assistants, executives, and record industry figures, Jocelyn is an openly vulnerable person, isolated and disempowered. One of their managers (an awesome Jane Adams will be penniless) even jokes in the opening minutes of the show that mental illness is sexy to the masses, because it gives them the illusion that the offended person will one day be able to fuck them.
It’s a dark line to take, which doesn’t have to be a bad thing – and the series clearly (as she sees it) kind of enjoys “pushing the limits” – but the problem is, this is an early example of the show constantly making excuses for its worse instincts. of his cowardice and nonsense. Of course The worst of the industry’s manipulative and harmful views are being handed over to women. Of course the main character is written as fed up with the proximity coordinator who wants to protect him. Of course She claims she got into the rapist character played by Abel Tesfaye. Watching a glorified 50-minute video clip of sex exploitation is one thing, but couldn’t the creators own their quirks rather than write so lazily?
Originally there was a satirical industry framework that may have proven effective in exposing the sleazy underbelly of entertainment. But Levinson (and you know it!) tries to turn it upside down and eat and eat his cake at the same time. structure the scum that the series calls. How else to think of a female character who was barely seen before, stripped for no apparent reason in Episode 2 and thrown herself into a pool, filmed topless, possibly for the benefit of a heterosexual male audience? How else to explain how Rachel Sennott’s character was suddenly given a sex scene after Jocelyn finally slept with her guru? How else to explain the constant objectification of Jocelyn to a degree not supported by the show?
An example of this: In Episode 2, Jocelyn shoots a video for her new single and the video goes wrong. The video is a clear reference to Britney Spears’ choreography that sexualized Jocelyn to an inch of her life – but we’re not presenting the clip from the video’s producer’s point of view. Instead, he is hypocritically shown endless shots of Jocelyn’s performance that still sexualizes her, but from a purely external point of view as she rehearses the song over and over.
What if something is turned upside down in these scenes that frame him so persistently? Depp is almost never filmed in a parodically skimpy outfit in this horribly outrageous show; At one point he finally wore a T-shirt that had the effect of a cold glass of water after hiking in a desert.
The show’s poor quality (intentional and not) would have been one thing, but its disgusting, self-excusing presentation of rap culture that sorted it out. In the show’s most disgusting scene, Tesfaye’s character – named Tedros Tedros, sadly a nickname reminiscent of former United Nations chief Boutros Boutros-Ghali – asks Jocelyn if she trusts him. “No,” Tedros replies, Tedros takes this as a cue to strangle his entire head with a rag, and makes a blowhole for his mouth with a knife.
It would be okay to play with sexual ambiguity (and clearly this character is presented as sleazy and domineering, trying to exert power over Jocelyn, not just in the bedroom). But taken together with the series’ misogyny and endlessly patriarchal perspective, it plays out as a pretty shaky endorsement of treacherous behavior. It’s not uncommon to be attracted to violence and power play as a sexual provocation, but there’s a terrible line blur here that frames nauseous sexual behavior as the highest of provocations.
On top of all that, the series gets timid and miserable at will, especially as it refuses to sexualize Tesfaye to the extent that female characters are. This even detracts from the purpose of the series, as Tedros Tedros is supposed to have tremendous sexual charisma. Come on then, let’s see!
When Tesfaye tells Depp “I want to choke on my dick” and then approaches him for the aforementioned blowjob, then why do we walk away? Could the audacious Sam Levinson have ended his arrogance at this point? The show’s reluctance or inability to blame Tesfaye, take over her character, and objectify her in the same way as Jocelyn completely hampers the series and shows just how insincere Levinson’s intentions were.
Idol one big expensive mess – a flawed collection of lazy “moments” whose purpose is of poor quality. The shame here is that a real cast of players was wasted in this brutal disaster – Adams and Sennott manage to come up with anything like funny timing, or even find a clue to a character in the gaps of the series’ rudeness – but the other actors falter.
A hideous, painfully ironic, horribly stubborn version of it. environment– this series could have been if it hadn’t been interfered with – it could really have been anything. As it stands, audiences will have to be content with seeing Depp squirm as he plays through his final days. Je t’aime not moi plus for its management. Take that industry!
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