‘The Idol’ Premiere Is Shockingly Boring

HBO’s The Idol managed to spark controversy before it was released; reports of a chaotic production combined with a negative reception at Cannes sparked concerns that the series was endorsing the exploitation and misogyny that it was meant to parody.

The series has been described by critics as “skin-crawling,” a “sordid male fantasy” and a “Pornhub-homepage odyssey.”

The controversy was similar to that which accompanied Netflix’s Blonde, starring Ana de Armas. Just like Blonde, the reaction to The Idol seems overblown; the series premiere isn’t nearly as edgy as pearl-clutching commentators made it out to be. Worse, it’s boring.

Created by Sam Levinson (Euphoria), The Idol stars Lily-Rose Depp as pop star Jocelyn, and Abel “The Weeknd” Tesfaye as her love interest, Tedros. Jocelyn is teetering on the edge of a depressive breakdown, surrounded by a circle of cynical sycophants who seek to keep the money flowing, no matter what.

The premiere begins with Jocelyn willingly going topless to shoot a music video, after her manager (Hank Azaria) locks the objecting intimacy coordinator in the bathroom. Jocelyn’s team are soon caught off guard after learning of a leaked photo of the pop star with semen on her face, desperately workshopping the crisis into a feminist narrative; empowerment or victimization, whichever fits.

Jocelyn seems well aware of the reality of her situation, and is even ashamed of her latest single, viewing her own work as shallow and boring. In a nightclub, she encounters Tedros, the owner, and is intrigued by his sexual energy, expressing admiration for his “rapey” vibes.

The episode ends with Tedros engaging Jocelyn in a kinky sex session involving a knife, with Jocelyn struggling to breathe (it’s uncomfortable, but consensual; earlier in the episode, Jocelyn masturbates by choking herself).

All of this sounds far sleazier and more exciting than how it actually plays out; hype and controversy aside, the premiere is shockingly boring.

Jocelyn’s scheming PR team talk like tweens experimenting with expletives, a bit like the Roys from Succession, but without the wit. Most of the scenes drag on, as slow and self-indulgent as Euphoria, but without Euphoria’s beautiful cinematography and soapy melodrama.

The writing lacks punch, but the biggest problem is that that Depp and Tesfaye are not skilled actors. I don’t know what “it” is, but it’s obvious that Depp lacks it; she’s trying, but she just doesn’t have the charisma for the role. Depp remains stilted and unnatural throughout, even when she’s doing something as simple as taking puffs of a cigarette.

Tesfaye is, somehow, even worse; his performance has been widely panned for good reason. Admittedly, he is playing a loser, the kind of guy who dates teenagers, enjoys Andrew Tate videos and unironically uses the word “alpha,” but he’s supposed to have some kind of magnetism, surely.

The lack of charisma and chemistry between the two leads results in an excruciatingly awkward sex scene that falls flat, attempting to be edgy and provocative.

The series might well improve from here, but the premiere proves offensively dull; all of that controversy, it seems, was for nothing.