Binge Watch Summer 2022
While I take issue with the no-ending story structure of binge-watched shows made possible by streaming services (predated by disappointing shows like Lost) where we hang on to twist after twist in the hopes of finding a definitive conclusion that rarely comes, there are some innovative series that exploit the format as extended serialized narratives. Here are a few shows I’m crushing on right now that respect your mind and heart.
“It’s a film, not a TV show. Even novels of the 19th century were serialized.”
Olivier Assayas’s remake of his 1996 satire of the film industry starring Maggie Chung follows a French film crew as they remake a fiction film that was itself based on the real-life 1915 silent film series, Les Vampires, into a TV series.
The title character’s name is an anagram for ‘vampire,’ which, as it turns out, is also an analogy for the chaotic behind the scenes drama and scrambling that the show depicts. Like the screwball comedy 30 Rock, Irma Vep satirizes the crazy of what it takes to make a TV show, when everyone from the famous director, to prima donna actors and crew, are either mentally unstable, addicted to drugs, addicted to fame, haunted by past and future lovers, or all of these things, while finicky financiers and insurance companies are ready to shut everything down if there’s an unacceptable diagnosis from a crew psychologist.
The film–er, TV show–is sexy, hilarious, tender, and smart, and probably the most meta thing on TV right now. Real-life director Assayas is remaking his 1996 film into this HBO TV show, just like the director, Rene, in this show is remaking his film–all of which share the same name (both Rene and Olivier were married to the Chinese star of their respective original films, too). This is more than just a cheap narrative sleight of hand. It reveals the film crew to be as nefarious as the band of thieves in the silent film series they portray–hypnotizing the audience and forcing us to confront our own perversions and demons all under the cover of making a ‘binge-worthy’ show. Like the velvet catsuit worn by lead actress Mira (another anagram) –at once ridiculous and sexy–so too, is this show a test of our own internal debate over art vs commerce, our need to be desired, and how slipping into the tight-fitting velvet of a story, a job, or a romantic relationship can transform us into a new person, revealing traits in ourselves that we’ve failed to acknowledge or contend with.
It takes a middle class white woman from New England to call bullshit on misogyny disguised as humor that has dominated television since the 1950s. And that’s exactly what this smart, funny, and suspenseful dark comedy is about: A feminist critique of the family sitcom genre, told this time from the wife’s perspective.
Kevin’s wife, Allison (Annie Murphy of Schitt’s Creek) struggles with her marriage to this man-child, after years of being the butt of his jokes and having to clean up his messes. Eventually, it’s revealed why she’s stayed with him for so long, and Allison wrestles with the frustration of continually putting off her own dreams and goals to take care of her husband. She finally realizes that the only way out is to kill Kevin.
Kevin Can Fuck Himself is a not so thinly veiled reference to the CBS show Kevin Can Wait (where writers killed off the wife because of the lead actress’s alleged lack of chemistry with the lead actor), and all of the shows that came before, like Everyone Loves Raymond and Home Improvement, whose stories revolve around the childish antics of adult men at the expense of women.
The series also explores topics like classism (subplots include Allison’s awkward attempts to buy makeup at a high-end store, and her ex-boyfriend’s marriage to a rich woman), why people embrace the status-quo instead of having ambition, and how women, like Allison’s next door neighbor, are often willing participants in a sexist culture.
Shot in traditional high-key lighting with a laugh track when she’s with her husband and his friends, we switch to moodier lighting and single-camera style once Allison is away from her husband. The focus on how women always have to clean up the messes of immature male slobs is not just poignant, it also explains a lot about contemporary American politics and culture.
Catch up on season one before the final season is released next month.
Motivated by the suicide of their close friend, a group of American Indian teens decide to get the hell off the reservation and head to California for a better life. The first season is their struggle to raise money by selling meat pies and spicy chips they stole from a delivery truck, while contending with family, traditions, and a community that keep pulling them back to the reservation.
This is a fun, fresh, hilarious, and tender series that works so well because of the authentic writing and performances from an all Native American cast (there are no stereotypes here, except when making fun of stereotypes). While the series can be a little rough around the edges sometimes, it mirrors the awkwardness of teens struggling to cope with the death of a friend, finding their own identities, and the struggle to balance dreams of a better future with one’s history and family obligations.
