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After the industry shift due to the 2023 SAG and WGA strikes, Seth Rogen’s “The Studio” arrives as a tribute to the artists and creatives trying to thrive in the business while also being a hilarious giant middle finger to the executives undermining the art form today. If all of the inside-baseball elements of “Bojack Horseman” were blended with the increasingly chaotic and episodic nature of “Party Down,” this clever Apple TV+ series would be the result.
At the fictional studio Continental, longtime neurotic studio exec Matt Remick (Rogen) carved a name for himself by bootlicking famous actors and directors in hopes of being liked. After Amy Pascal-esque chief Patty (Catherine O’Hara) is booted, Matt is promoted to studio head by his boss, CEO Griffin Mill (Bryan Cranston). Matt promotes his hard-working assistant Quinn (Chase Sui Wonders) to creative executive while his unpredictable former co-executive and best friend Sal (Ike Barinholtz) is bummed about not landing the gig.
In the premiere, Griffin assigns Matt to make a Kool-Aid Man movie due to Barbie’s billion-dollar success. The demand has Matt flail around his morals, which lands him in a situation where he must choose between working with Nicholas Stoller of “Neighbors” fame and a chance to work with Martin Scorsese, whom he convinces to name his passionate Jonestown-centric drama “Kool-Aid.” Throughout the 10-episode season, Matt’s ethics are constantly tested where he has to greenlight egregious cash grab blockbusters at the obstruction of working with famous Oscar-winning filmmakers, as well as his insecurities. The structure of “The Studio” is rather episodic, following Matt and usually Sal as they embark on misadventures throughout various Continental-funded locations, trying to get movies made, mostly to the dismay of other filmmakers and actors.
Part of “The Studio’s” strength is its portrayal of high-end executives, their inflated egos and crude vernacular part of a systemic problem that illustrates how entirely disconnected they are from the public, affecting the medium they’re working in and the artists trying to make art. There’s a vulgarity in everyone’s behavior that feels like it’s coming from the decades-long experience of the show’s five co-creators. It almost seems like a cathartic release. The writing balances broad satirical comedy in a way that keeps it grounded in reality. For example, Matt’s marketing team suggests Mr. Beast host a contest of people holding their breath in Kool-Aid as promotional material. It’s easy to imagine those conversations actually happening.
While mocking today’s current state of bumbling executives running amuck in your times of Zaslavs or Sarandos, co-creators Rogen, Evan Goldberg, Peter Huyck, Alex Gregory, and Frida Perez gleefully homage different variations of genre and film technique to magnificent effect. One episode dons a noir-styled mystery featuring a missing reel on an Olivia Wilde set, and another a cat-and-mouse battle of wits between Sal and Quinn.
The season’s highlight—and possibly year’s best television episode—lies right in the second episode, “The Oner,” which involves Matt visiting Oscar-winner Sarah Polley’s production set while she’s trying to accomplish a one-shot closer with her star Greta Lee. What ensues is Matt bumbling his way, disrupting every shot, testing Polley’s patience. All the while, co-directors Rogen & Goldberg, who helm all the season’s episodes, present it via a oner. With self-awareness, of course—Sam Mendes’ technique for “1917” is referenced onscreen as the director duo skillfully mimics his style. Though the remaining episodes are inventive and smart in their own right, “The Oner” is the season’s apex.
As for performance, “The Studio” features excellent comedic turns from its endlessly funny ensemble. Rogen’s effortless in texturing Matt’s neediness and neuroticism, Barinholtz’s weaselly movement as Sal is enjoyably unpredictable. Chase Sui Wonders is a standout, showing broad comedic range and strong-willed conviction as the young and hungry Quinn. But the electricity in Continental goes through the roof when an episode features Kathryn Hahn or Catherine O’Hara, both of whom remind everyone how they are among the funniest performers working today.
Everyone who appears is game, with filmmakers who rarely appear on camera anymore—Scorsese, Polley, and Ron Howard, to name a few—standing out and delivering hilarious performances, worthy of guest Emmy nominations. Every cameo is another brush stroke in the portrait rendered by “The Studio”: A collective middle finger to the system, sent with love.
Whole season screened for review. The first two episodes are on Apple TV+ now.
from Roger Ebert https://ift.tt/YJQa0g6
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