Season 1, Episode 1: ‘Pop Tarts & Rat Tales’
In the background of an early scene in the new HBO series “The Idol,” Fiona Apple’s 1990s hit “Criminal” is heard. The series’ pop star heroine, Jocelyn (Lily-Rose Depp), poses for her album cover. Her breasts are exposed and she stares seductively into the camera. An intimacy coordinator bursts in and tells the photographer to stop shooting. Areolas are not allowed according to the naked rider – a detail that neither Jocelyn nor her team seem to care about.
As Apple’s song plays, two of the members of Jocelyn’s entourage alternately describe her as Brigitte Bardot and Sharon Tate – the latter reference, to the actress and Manson’s murder victim, is meant to make you wince. Other celebrities are mentioned during the premiere. Jocelyn is compared to her obvious analogue, Britney Spears, while later her new lover-slash-mentor-slash-cult leader Tedros (Abel Tesfaye) uses Prince and Donna Summer as examples of musicians who perform with the feeling that Jocelyn is missing.
Still, the use of “Criminal” stood out to me among the onslaught of cultural references Sam Levinson throws at the audience. (Levinson, who co-created the series with Tesfaye and Reza Fahim, wrote and directed Sunday’s premiere.) The song in which Apple, then just a teenager, sings “I’ve been a bad bad girl” was accompanied by a video released in 1997. directed by Mark Romanek who, because of its sexual imagery, caused the kind of controversy that “The Idol” seems desperate to create. But Apple was never shy about speaking up, and just a few months after the video debuted, she satirized the industry at the MTV Video Music Awards with an unprintable world and a quote from Maya Angelou.
The use of Apple’s music in “The Idol” is both a nod to pop scandals and a bit of cheating, especially since it’s hard not to think deeply about Apple and its work, which has challenged notions of pop stardom. and musicianship. Despite the knee-jerk response to it, “Criminal” is much more complicated than that coquettish “bad girl” lyric. It’s about personal morality and shame and how all of that gets wrapped up in sexuality. The dumb version is Jocelyn’s single “World Class Sinner,” in which she sings about a freak who wants someone with a big bank account.
“The Idol” is ostensibly about Jocelyn’s desire to break beyond the “shallow” nature of the world she occupies – a world Apple proclaimed all those years ago. This search leads Jocelyn to Tesfaye’s Tedros, who tells her that “pop music is like the ultimate Trojan horse”. But despite the involvement of a true musical superstar in Tesfaye – better known as The Weeknd – ‘The Idol’ doesn’t go that deep into pop. It is much more interested in the shock value. It’s kind of anti-Fiona Apple.
During Jocelyn’s photoshoot, Nikki (Jane Adams), a record executive, chides her creative director Xander (Troye Sivan), “Do you want people to enjoy sex, drugs, and hot girls?” That line feels like a challenge to the audience, as all three of those things are very present here.
We meet Jocelyn as she is preparing promotional material for what we learn is a comeback album. Her mother recently passed away from cancer and she may or may not have had a “psychotic break.” The first 25 minutes mainly focus on the various members of her entourage freaking out and reacting when they learn that a selfie of her with cum has been leaked on her face. While in crisis mode, Jocelyn poses and rehearses her thrust-heavy dance moves. She seems exhausted at times – she wipes tears from under her sunglasses in one go – but also plays the role of seductress well.
Does she love this profession or hate it? Is she a provocateur or a puppet? It’s hard to say, and I’m not sure the show has made up its mind about her, aside from her aesthetic, which includes skimpy clothes, skinny cigarettes, and sunglasses. She brushes off the intimacy coordinator because she wants to show her breasts. Her reaction to the leaked photo is, “I mean, I feel like it could be a lot worse.” But she’s also dissatisfied and maybe she’s just bored.
That’s how she ends up with Tedros, a rat-tailed club owner, who seduces her on the dance floor while Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” plays. It’s hard to understand why she’s so instantly attracted to this guy. When she says she’s going to invite him over, her assistant and best friend, Leia (Rachel Sennott), tells her, “He’s so rapey.” Jocelyn replies that she likes that about him.
Perhaps if Tedros had good insights into pop music, the attraction might be more explainable, but he seems to spout the kind of superficial opinions that Jocelyn should dismiss. And soon after he enters her home studio to listen to “World Class Sinner,” actual discussions are hardly a prelude to the main event, in which he takes her robe and wraps it around her head. She almost suffocates when he pulls out a knife, orders her to open her mouth and cuts a hole. “Now you can sing,” he says.
The episode opens with a long look at Depp’s face as Jocelyn performs in front of a lens and executes commands to be innocent, mischievous and vulnerable. It ends with her head completely covered. Is this about a pop star’s liberation or her enslavement? And what would Fiona say?
Liner notes
Tesfaye and Levinson told Manohla Dargis of DailyExpertNews in an interview that audiences have no idea where the show is going, with Tesfaye stating that Tedros is “pathetic”. I guess we’ll see if there’s some kind of table turn, but right now the series seems pretty enamored with him.
Leia asking the bartender at Tedros’ club for water and complaining “it’s been seven minutes” is the most recognizable thing to happen on this show to date.
Hank Azaria likes to put accents, and his latest as Jocelyn’s manager, Chaim, is a new level of over-the-top.
This show presents a true test of what you can get away with posting DailyExpertNews. As I took notes, I made a mental list of which dialogues I couldn’t quote.
There are so many cast members I’d love to see do more than what they got in this premiere, including the always great Da’Vine Joy Randolph.
“World Class Sinner” is kind of bop.