I have
complicated feelings about Ryan Murphy’s work. In a way, it’s a little
reminiscent of how I feel about past Doctor
Who showrunners Russell T. Davies and Steven Moffat, both of whom can write
fantastic television, but whose individual writing quirks can overwhelm their
work when left unchecked, surfeiting on the very qualities that work so well in
controlled doses. Murphy can be a lot like that, even if I don’t think he’s
written anything I like as well as “The Parting of the Ways” or “The Eleventh
Hour.” With this miniseries, though, his shtick mostly all works for me, and I
came away enjoying myself (premise spoilers.)
Post-war
Hollywood is in for a reckoning. Jack, a young vet, has dreams of making it
big, but he’s not the only one. There’s Archie, a gay Black screenwriter who
wants to challenge audience expectations about what he can write. Raymond, a
half-Filipino director who, though he passes as white, wants the freedom to
tell Asian stories onscreen. Camille, a Black contract player with the talent
to play more than just the maid, but not the opportunity. Roy, a closeted actor
who’s just been signed by a predatory agent. When studio giant Ace Pictures
experiences a surprise shakeup, all these people come together in the hopes of
making a picture Hollywood has never dreamed of.
This
miniseries has gotten some similar criticisms as Hamilton when it comes to representation. While Hamilton casts people of color as white
historical figures, losing sight of the stories of historical figures of color
in the process, Hollywood focuses on
fictional marginalized pioneers of the silver screen, touching only briefly on
the real pioneers who worked so hard to break through – Hattie McDaniel and
Anna May Wong both appear as characters in the story, but minor ones. I
understand criticisms that Murphy and co. could’ve told about the struggles of
these real people instead of making up characters who never existed, but on the
whole, I’m all right with it. This is a historical fairytale, every bit as much
as Inglourious Basterds doesn’t let
actual history get in the way of the story it wants to tell, and it’s a
fairytale that has a perfect right to exist. It’s neat to imagine how Hollywood
(and by extension, the world) might’ve been different if history had been a
little more like this miniseries.
And yeah,
things get silly at points, and there are parts I don’t like. Some turns of
events are a little too pat, specific “twists” are too heavily-foreshadowed,
and certain intriguing aspects of the story don’t get enough play. I also roll
my eyes a little that, even in a story expressly about marginalized creatives
fighting for the chance to tell their stories, the first point-of-view
character we meet is still the straight white guy (of course.) On the whole,
though, this is put together well. I enjoy the frothy, old-Hollywood feel of it
all, and there are some beautifully affecting scenes. Especially in the final
episode, there’s a lovely sequence that shows just why the events depicted in
this story matter.
Plenty of
nice performances here. For Murphy regulars, I enjoy Darren Criss as ambitious
director Raymond (by the way, I appreciate that Murphy allows Criss to play
mixed Asian American characters,) Jim Parsons is very effective as vicious
agent Harold, and Joe Mantello (who was great in the Murphy-directed adaptation
of The Normal Heart) tears it up as
reliable-to-a-fault producer Dick. Other highlights include a fabulous Patti
LuPone as Avis, the shrewd wife of the studio head, and Jeremy Pope as Archie,
the determined screenwriter – plus, Michelle Krusiec and Queen Latifah are
great in their brief appearances as Anna May Wong and Hattie McDaniel.
Warnings
Sexual
content, scenes of violence (including sexual abuse and discussion of suicide,)
language (including homophobic slurs and racial insults,) drinking/smoking, and
strong thematic elements.
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