The unmissable “The Idol” is only provocation and scandal for its own sake

Provocation and scandal for their own sake. Sadly nothing else (besides itchy and violent sexual prowess) is glimpsed in The Idol, HBO series whose first two episodes are available on Sky Atlantic. The series, done from the makers of Euphoria, premiered at the Cannes Film Festival to a decidedly critical reception. In fact, after watching the first two (out of five) episodes, The Idol proves to be a series that has the sole objective of shocking, of lingering in degradation (psychic, emotional, existential) without any kind of narrative direction or apparent purpose .

In short: there is a pop star (Lily Rose Depp, daughter of Johnny Depp and Vanessa Paradis) in a career and human deadlock – after losing her mother prematurely – who, committed to resuming the reins of her career as a musical starlet, gets involved (it is not quite clear why) in a murky relationship with sadomasochistic derivations together with Tedros (Abel Tesfaye), owner of a night club, top-notch junkie and hub of a sort of “cult” whose followers seem devoted to him in a sinister way to say the least. Jocelyn, this is the girl’s name, is then surrounded by a group of quite unscrupulous collaborators who exploit the girl’s fragility and illness to make money, pushing Jocelyn to the edge. However, she puts something of herself into it, plunging herself into situations in which her sexual perversion is the master, in which the line between sex and violence is always very thin and where erotic games always seem to push themselves to the limit.

In fact there isn’t much else in the plot (until now), if not a repetition of a narrative scheme that alternates a first part of the episode which focuses on Jocelyn’s musical duties and a second part in which the girl falls into worst sexual spirals together with Tedros (cast choice absolutely out of focus, with an actor who should embody the apotheosis of sensuality and instead seems like a maniac of the worst kind, devoid of any charm – even in its most harmful forms). In addition to the perennial tedium that this type of narrative situations generate (not helped by an absolutely dilated pace – sometimes dear to HBO productions – in which we practically witness fifty-minute episodes made up of literally four scenes), what leaves us strongly perplexed is that it is a series apparently devoid of direction and narrative effort. The story of a disturbed personality, of the pressures to which the stars of the show are subjected, of a sick and perverse world is fine, but an ultimate meaning of this story seems to be totally missing. It is the photograph of degradation as an end in itself, a repelling narrative world, a constant and ineluctable descent into hell (in soft porn sauce).

Who does this series want to talk to? What does it want to represent (worth it)? There seems to be only glitz and otherwise no great inventiveness or sophistication in the staging of this infinite chasm. Even in Euphoria – with which The Idol shares the creator Sam Levinson – there was a hard story, without discounts and at times disturbing but it was clear – beyond individual tastes – that there was an attempt to tell, perhaps even in a extreme, a cross-section of the world in its contradictions. Unfortunately, this is not even visible here.

Who is The Idol inspired by?

It has not been openly declared a reference but many have seen in Jocelyn’s hatch many overlaps with the professional and human parable of Britney Spears (which is directly mentioned in an exchange between the singer and a journalist in the pilot of the series). Both are damaged, interrupted girls, psychically fragile and at the mercy of substances, sexualized and returning from highly questionable love choices (they accompany men of the worst kind). Both are perhaps victims of a ruthless system, insecure and unable to handle fame – or the loss of it.

What is the tone of the three-bar series?

“Mental illness is sexy.”

“With Jocelyn anything is possible”.

“I won’t let myself be erased.”