The Idol: celebrity satire starring Lily-Rose Depp is ironically shallow

“Mental illness is sexy,” declares one of the many executives buzzing around in the background, when someone notices Jocelyn is still wearing the hospital wristband from a recent stay thanks to “exhaustion”.

Moments later, Jocelyn lets a nipple slip free of her gown, which is met by a panicked response from the on-set intimacy coordinator. When he refuses to back down from the terms of the existing “nudity rider”, despite Jocelyn giving clear verbal consent, the coordinator is unceremoniously locked in a bathroom.

While all this is playing out, a selfie of Jocelyn surfaces online, in which her face appears to be dappled in semen.

While the internet breaks under the weight of this revelation, Jocelyn’s people rally to keep the news away from her – their concerns not for her well-being, of course, but rather how they can continue to sell concert tickets to teenage girls while that image is trending on social media.

It is a ballsy opening that promises a barbed depiction of the entertainment industry post-#MeToo. Simultaneously, the casting of established comedians Hank Azaria and Dan Levy within Jocelyn’s entourage suggest to viewers that we should not be taking this trashy, superficial community all too seriously. So which is it?

Soon enough, we discover neither to be the case, as The Idol settles into a vacuous, painfully unsexy tone that aspires to emulate such bastions of bad taste as Paul Verhoeven’s Showgirls or Adrian Lyne’s 9 1/2 Weeks, yet fails to perform either as high camp or erotica – qualities that made those forerunners somewhat bearable.

Depp, who channels mother Vanessa Paradis more successfully than her father, is not the problem here. She has proven herself a more than capable performer in the past and slides effortlessly into the role of a fragile young waif, seemingly left to drown in a self-constructed fishbowl of money, fame, exposure and exploitation.

She makes an easy target for Tedros, a smooth-talking and seductive nightclub owner. The notion of a powerful influencer falling under the spell of someone wielding even greater sway is admittedly an intriguing one, but Tesfaye displays none of the power and charisma he has written for his character.

K-pop fans will flock to The Idol for the acting debut of Blackpink’s Jennie, who plays Jocelyn’s backup dancer Dyanne.

The irony of witnessing a genuine pop sensation play hanger-on to Depp’s fictitious starlet is certainly not lost on anyone, but nothing of substance has emerged from this casting coup so far, while Jennie’s performance has been confined to vigorous choreography and precious little dialogue.

It is merely another example of The Idol’s half-realised attempts to skewer a zeitgeist it seems painfully ill-equipped to challenge.

The Idol is streaming on HBO Go.