The Idol review: Despite a solid Lily-Rose Depp performance, HBO’s cringe catastrophe was in no state to have been released

Ostensibly a showbiz satire about the inner world of a pop star on the precipice of icon status — think Beyonce immediately after her Destiny’s Child era — The Idol centres around Jocelyn, played by Lily-Rose Depp. Her performance as a troubled celebrity whose mind has been completely warped by the bubble she exists inside is perhaps the show’s best feature. Depp is always in control of her character, even when it seems like the show is alternately ignoring and abusing her.

Which is ironic, considering that this is exactly the sort of behaviour that The Idol aims to satirise. Perpetually surrounded by a gaggle of managers, publicists, agents, and an assortment of hangers-on who don’t really care about her well-being, Jocelyn seeks refuge in the arms of a shady little man she meets at a club one evening. This man is Tedros, a self-styled club promoter/guru who might also be the leader of a small cult.

Played by series co-creator The Weeknd, Tedros isn’t somebody that we’re ever meant to take seriously, which is one of the show’s fundamental problems. By positioning this character as a punchline of sorts — even though he thinks he’s a cross between Michael Jackson and Gandalf — the show often undermines the very real threat that he poses. The Idol begins mocking Tedros the moment he first sets foot in Jocelyn’s mansion — a cold mausoleum of her tragic past, a haunted house that represents the hollowness inside her. He looks at himself in the mirror and practices his dramatic greeting: “Hello, angel.” Here’s a man with a severe God complex, and the more that is revealed about him in subsequent episodes, the scarier he should have theoretically become.

But the show seems very unsure about the character as a whole. While Jocelyn mocks him for having a rattail and her housekeepers chuckle to themselves about his Napoleon complex, her BFF Leia seems appropriately concerned about Tedros’ complete takeover of their household. Before you know it, he’s firing staff, encouraging her to throw out music on the verge of release, and turning her against her closest confidantes. And Jocelyn, who is shown in the first few episodes as a bit of a damaged soul, is happy to surrender to his whims.

This raises questions about female agency, of course. While the music of, say, Lana Del Rey has often been criticised for having an ‘antifeminist’ quality — it romanticises suffering and betrayal at the hands of men — it’s always clear that she is wary of being misled, and in control of her decisions. Jocelyn comes across as a robot, and in some of the show’s more explicit scenes, a sex doll. She is a non-entity, and The Idol spends way too much time encouraging us to ogle at her abuse, before taking a hard-left in the final episode that feels like a complete overcorrection on Levinson’s part.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise when I say that entire episodes — not scenes, episodes — seem to be missing from The Idol’s debut run. While individual arcs might have been properly fleshed out on paper, the tight five-episode run makes it all feel too rushed. Levinson and his team of skilled technicians do their best to perform a cover-up job, however. The show utilises an enigmatic editing style that can superficially be appreciated for its European artsy-fartsyness, but it ultimately serves little purpose. If anything, the editing often makes it seem as if characters are capable of existing in different temporal planes at once.

But this is emblematic of The Idol as a whole. It’s always pretty to look at; the film grain gives it the illusion of importance, but it’s an empty, often revolting experience. For a show that attempts to satirise how out of touch successful celebrities can be, it’s a bit ironic to see just how embarrassingly pleased the people who created this seem to be with themselves.

The Idol
Creators – Abel ‘The Weeknd’ Tesfaye, Sam Levinson, Reza Fahim
Cast – Lily-Rose Depp, Abel ‘The Weeknd’ Tesfaye, Rachel Sennott, Suzanna Son, Troye Sivan, Hank Azaria, Moses Sumney, Da’Vine Joy Randolph
Rating – 1.5/5