Review: The only thing shocking about 'The Idol' is how shockingly bad it is
Is it too early to slam HBO's "The Idol" as the worst TV event of the year and maybe the decade? It will be hard to top for bottom-feeling ineptitude.
After debuting in May at the Cannes Film Festival with two of its five episodes, "The Idol" was met with a chorus of boos. Haters, you're too kind.
After catching just the debut hour on HBO in the same prized Sunday time slot where "Succession" delivered nonstop brilliance for four seasons, "The Idol" soils hallowed ground. Forget its promotion as a mega-scandalous expose of the Hollywood fame game. The only thing shocking about "The Idol" is how shockingly bad it is.
Nothing, of course, will stop fans of The Weeknd from watching their favorite make his starring acting debut under his real name, Abel Tesfaye. It's said that the Canadian R&B singer, the son of Ethiopian immigrants, has never acted before. As far as I'm concerned, his record is clean.
Tesfaye barely registers as Tedros, the famously charismatic, we're told, nightclub owner and DJ with the power to sexually mesmerize all in his path. No evidence of that here, though Jocelyn, the singing idol with one name played by Lily-Rose Depp, seems to swoon. Now that's acting.
Jocelyn, the "idol" of the title, is a young pop star back from a breakdown -- think Britney -- who's still reeling from the death of her mother. Her upcoming stadium tour isn't selling out, triggering panic in a Live Nation exec (Eli Roth). Worse, an icky, obscene photo of Jocelyn has just gone viral, as such things will.
It's damage control time for her team, including her co-managers (Hank Azaria and Da'Vine Joy Randolph), publicist (Dan Levy) and creative director (singer Troye Sivan). Only her record label rep -- a tart-tongued Jane Adams -- is unfazed. "Mental illness is sexy," she announces.
Ugh. The setting is a photo shoot at Jocelyn's LA mansion -- it's actually Tesfaye's real crib -- where she does a Vanity Fair cover shoot in a few artfully arranged pieces of string. Jocelyn has a nudity rider that protects her from being exploited, but she prefers going full commando, telling the magazine's profile writer (Hari Nef) that she answers only to God. Yikes.
It's a sad spectacle seeing so many talented actors being force fed dialogue that defines cringe. Jocelyn needs a guiding force in her life. Instead, she picks Tedros, so lacking in danger and sex appeal that Jocelyn's personal assistant (Rachel Sennott) warns her that he's little more than cultish predator with "a rapey" vibe. "That's what I like about him," says Jocelyn.
Other than Depp's valiant struggle to create a character out of scraps, I can't find a single thing to like about this fiasco of a show. It does astonish me that director Sam Levinson agreed to collaborate with Tesfaye on this outdated, outmoded slice of failed titillation.
Levinson is enjoying a huge success with HBO's "Euphoria," whose shock elements are grounded by the star presence of the Emmy-winning Zendaya. "The Idol" has nothing to ground it but the stiff line readings of co-creator Tesfaye and Levinson's willingness to cater to his every whim.
That includes reshooting 80% of the series previously directed by Amy Seimetz, who reportedly favored a "female perspective" that didn't sit well with the artist. So go ahead, watch the final four hours of this erotic fantasia shot from a leering male gaze. I've suffered enough.
