Netflix’s Hollywood is an enticing look at a town… | Little White Lies

Not Movies

Netflix’s Hol­ly­wood is an entic­ing look at a town of big dreams

29 Apr 2020

Words by Emma Fraser

Four men in suits and hats standing in front of a car.
Four men in suits and hats standing in front of a car.
Ryan Mur­phy and Ian Brennan’s lim­it­ed series reveals the price of star­dom in Tinseltown’s Gold­en Age.

In 2018, Ryan Mur­phy signed the biggest pro­duc­er con­tract in tele­vi­sion his­to­ry – a five-year devel­op­ment deal with Net­flix worth up to a stag­ger­ing $300 mil­lion. This is what show­biz dreams are made of, which is what the char­ac­ters in his sec­ond series for the stream­ing giant are striv­ing for. In the after­math of World War Two, Los Ange­les is a boom­town sell­ing an image of star­dom that few will actu­al­ly achieve. Sim­ply titled Hol­ly­wood, the sev­en-part lim­it­ed series fol­lows a group of young actors, direc­tors and writ­ers all aspir­ing to become leg­ends by woo­ing and defy­ing the gate­keep­ers with the pow­er to make or break them.

Desire and the pit­falls of fame is a thread run­ning through Murphy’s boun­ti­ful TV career, whether the high school musi­cal the­atre afi­ciona­dos of Glee or the high pro­file real-life cas­es as depict­ed in Amer­i­can Crime Sto­ry. These shows high­light how the fan­ta­sy of star­dom extends far beyond the para­me­ters of the infa­mous Hol­ly­wood sign; hypocrisy and cor­rup­tion have the pow­er to poi­son big dreams across the Unit­ed States.

Two people in a convertible car, one wearing a leopard-print jacket.

Nev­er­the­less, this is not the first time the stu­dio sys­tem has fall­en under his cre­ative micro­scope. Unlike Feud: Bette and Joan, which por­trayed the leg­endary rival­ry between Bette Davis and Joan Craw­ford, the focus here is on a most­ly fic­ti­tious group of char­ac­ters look­ing to alter the decades-old pow­er dynam­ic rul­ing this town. Tack­ling obsta­cles pred­i­cat­ed on race, sex­u­al­i­ty and gen­der, the first two episodes set the tone (with vary­ing suc­cess) hint­ing an alter­nate ver­sion of the enter­tain­ment indus­try will follow.

Hooray for Hol­ly­wood’ (Parts One and Two) intro­duces the major play­ers, includ­ing strug­gling actor Jack (David Corenswet), screen­writer Archie (Jere­my Pope), up-and-com­ing direc­tor Ray­mond (Dar­ren Criss), and stu­dio con­tract play­ers Camille (Lau­ra Har­ri­er) and Claire (Sama­ra Weav­ing). The leads poss­es plen­ty of charm – Tony Award-nom­i­nee Pope is an ear­ly stand­out – and the cast is a mix of famous names, famil­iar faces and new­com­ers, which match­es the aes­thet­ic of a sto­ry inter­con­nect­ing real fig­ures with fic­tion­al characters.

Mur­phy has long cul­ti­vat­ed an unof­fi­cial act­ing troupe of sorts, using the same play­ers across mul­ti­ple projects and Hol­ly­wood is no dif­fer­ent. (This is Dar­ren Criss’ fourth time work­ing with the pro­duc­er – he recent­ly won an Emmy and Gold­en Globe for play­ing spree killer Andrew Cunanan in Amer­i­can Crime Sto­ry – and Raymond’s half-Fil­ipino remarks reflect com­ments the actor has made in the past about cast­ing and race.)

Two men sitting on a sofa in a living room with a table, lamps, and other decorations in the background.

Movies don’t just show us how the world is, they show us how the world can be,” Ray­mond earnest­ly states in a meet­ing while dis­cussing his dream pic­ture, star­ring Chi­nese-Amer­i­can actress Anna May Wong. This is one of sev­er­al ref­er­ences to the pow­er of cin­e­ma, but also how restric­tive these sto­ries are if you aren’t white (or white-pass­ing). The con­ver­sa­tion about diver­si­ty and the fail­ings of this indus­try is impor­tant, but some of the dia­logue is heavy-hand­ed, a know­ing wink that hints at the pow­er struc­ture twist to come. More suc­cess­ful is the man­ner in which sex­u­al­i­ty as a com­mod­i­ty to be sold and sani­tised (depend­ing on which part of Tin­sel­town you are in) is depicted.

Knowl­edge of the major play­ers and scan­dals of the mid-cen­tu­ry peri­od is not a require­ment (although view­ers with an in-depth inter­est will get a kick out of ref­er­ences and loca­tions like West­ern Cos­tume Co), how­ev­er, paus­ing mid-episode to deep dive into the sto­ries behind The Good Earth’s cast­ing and the Peg Entwistle Hol­ly­wood­land sign sui­cide will pro­long the view­ing time. The icon­ic land­mark is fea­tured in an open­ing cred­its sequence that cap­tures the lure of the indus­try while also reveal­ing the show’s lack of subtlety.

Cos­tumes by Sarah Eve­lyn and Lou Eyrich, cou­pled with Matthew Flood Ferguson’s pro­duc­tion design, allow us to slip into this world; for any­one itch­ing for the gap between The Avi­a­tor and Once Upon a Time in Hol­ly­wood, this is it. Still, echo­ing the epony­mous set­ting, there are seri­ous flaws hid­den beneath the glossy veneer.

Hol­ly­wood is avail­able on Net­flix from 1 May.

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