HBO’s The Idol premiered with a super-stylish but strangely unengaging opening episode, leaving many big questions unanswered. Lily-Rose Depp stars as Jocelyn, a pop star who has navigated a mental health crisis and becomes ensnared by the allure of a hipster club owner/self-help guru/cult leader, portrayed by Abel “The Weeknd” Tesfaye. The show received scathing reviews after its two episodes premiered at the Cannes Film Festival, with concerns raised about its depiction of nudity and sex, and suggestions that it turned into a toxic, male-oriented fantasy. The first episode, in particular, featured provocative scenes that seemed to cater to the male gaze rather than offering an authentic portrayal of a woman’s experience.
Co-created and executive produced by Sam Levinson, the creator of Euphoria, The Idol exhibits moments reminiscent of the steamy and gritty atmosphere of Euphoria’s party scenes. One scene in Tedros’ club, where he seduces Jocelyn to the beat of Madonna’s “Like a Virgin,” and the comparison of Jocelyn to Britney Spears by her handlers, draws overt parallels to real-life unpredictable blonde divas. Tedros himself utters lines that sound profound but ultimately lack substance, exemplifying the show’s tendency to lack subtlety.
The most surprising aspect of The Idol’s debut is the lack of significant plot development in the first episode. The story feels trapped within a narrow scope, attempting to compensate for the lack of substance with bursts of nudity and sexual encounters. The show dispenses with subtlety, and the characters surrounding Jocelyn, played by Hank Azaria and Dan Levy, are as vulgar, money-oriented, and oblivious to her pain as one might expect. Their reaction to Jocelyn’s explicit picture circulating on Twitter seems oddly indifferent compared to her later concerns about her new single’s potential negative impact. This lack of consistency and depth undermines the narrative’s coherence.
Every scene in the first episode strives to convey chunks of backstory, with Jocelyn aiming for a comeback following a “nervous breakdown” triggered, perhaps, by her mother’s death. However, she despises the new single her handlers are promoting, feeling worn out and unenthusiastic about her work, which makes her vulnerable to the dangerous seduction of Tedros, nicknamed “rat tail club guy” by her assistant and best friend.
While some viewers may focus on the provocatively erotic closing scene of the first episode, where Tedros covers Jocelyn’s head with her robe, revealing a knife and cutting a hole for her mouth, it feels more like a cartoonishly provocative moment than a genuine storytelling choice. Criticizing it plays into the producers’ hands, diverting attention from the show’s fundamental storytelling flaws.
The larger concerns surrounding The Idol remain unanswered after the initial episode. It remains unclear whether the show is an exploitative male fantasy disguised as an empowerment tale or a disguised celebration of power, wealth, and fame. The limited plot progression in the first episode leaves viewers unsure of where the story is ultimately headed.
What is evident is the absence of the inventive and surprising storytelling that made Euphoria so captivating. The Idol lacks the magic of its predecessor, and unless subsequent episodes manage to recapture that small screen allure, it may struggle to salvage the predictability that permeates its initial installment. With more episodes yet to come, viewers can only hope for a more compelling and nuanced exploration of the show’s themes.