It’s been called a ‘toxic man’s fantasy’, but is The Idol as bad as critics say?

No matter what you think of the show itself, The Idol is undeniably living up to its self-proclaimed reputation as a headline-making drama. Scathing reviews of the bawdy HBO series’ first episode have flooded the internet since it was released on Monday, with some critics labelling it “a toxic man’s fantasy” and “twisted torture porn”.

“It’s meant to be like that, it’s ironic!” you can imagine Sam Levinson, the show’s director and writer, would say in response to these criticisms. Sure, the show is clearly three-steps ahead of the scrutiny it knew it was going to attract, but irony alone does not make a masterpiece. And after sitting through the first episode, it’s clear that irony only gets it through the front door – not past the gate.

Lily-Rose Depp and Abel “The Weeknd” Tesfaye in The Idol. Credit: HBO

Developed by Levinson – best known for the angsty teen drama, Euphoria – and musician-turned-actor Abel Tesfaye (aka The Weeknd), the first episode introduces viewers to Jocelyn (played rather convincingly by Lily-Rose Depp), a pop-star in the midst of a comeback after losing her mother and recovering from a mental breakdown, before meeting a club owner destined to uproot her life.

By the 20-minute mark, we’ve already seen: an intimacy coordinator get shot down for suggesting Jocelyn conceal her nipples during a photoshoot; Jocelyn become a trending topic on Twitter thanks to a highly sexualised leaked photo of her; and witnessed a debate over whether “mental illness is sexy” (apparently thinking otherwise is just “cock-blocking America”).

It’s an absurdly exaggerated critique of fame and a cringy caricature of every “anti-woke” or “anti-cancel culture” debate on Reddit. And this is all before Tesfaye’s character, Tedros – who supposedly injects the show with real scandal – enters the mix.

It’s clear we’re in for a confusingly wild ride, but The Idol has been frantically pointing towards how edgy it is well before it hit screens. In what was either genius marketing or downright bad luck, a Rolling Stone exposé published in March revealed that the show had allegedly become exactly what it had initially been trying to parody.

A dozen members of the show’s cast and crew claimed the show’s direction changed entirely after the original director, Amy Seimetz (She Dies Tomorrow), was replaced by Levinson. While it began as a thoughtful examination of how women operate within the darker side of Hollywood and the music industry, according to those sources, it ended up more like a glorified ad for BDSM – a glimpse into the lewd mind of a man dominating a damaged woman desperate for approval.

Elements of female empowerment may peek through occasionally – such as Jocelyn’s desire to create meaningful art – but they’re quickly man-handled and buried 10 feet under so that Tedros can be front-and-centre once more, like when he covers Jocelyn’s face with a silk nightrobe, essentially choking her. But because it was to help her achieve a vocal performance that would convince people “she could f---” , it’s apparently worthwhile.

From the first time we meet Tedros, we see him as a predator, eyeing Jocelyn across his nightclub. Then we see him as an unofficial pop expert, telling Jocelyn to be more like Prince. Tedros is clumsily and bluntly portrayed as a villain without doing anything overly questionable.

The Idol is what you get when a director goes from being self-aware to patronisingly obvious. All Tedros needs to say to Jocelyn is “Welcome to my little sh-thole” and she’s hooked. How is this a satirical reflection of misogyny in Hollywood? The lack of subtlety is also frustrating: we don’t need to be thrashed over the head with literal scenes from Basic Instinct to know we are watching an erotic thriller.

Coming off the back of a raging success like Euphoria isn’t easy. The Idol matches its highly stylised aesthetic and suffers from the same kind of moralising that Euphoria suffered through, but the comparisons seem to stop there.

While you could almost feel the grit of Euphoria under your fingernails, The Idol feels like a smooth surface yearning for hard edges. It’s so far ahead of public criticism that it has already essentially reviewed itself. Where’s the fun in watching something you know already has a witty comeback for every question?

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