‘The Studio’ Episodes 1 & 2: Hollywood is so obsessed with itself - and I love it

Babylon defenders, rise up. We have a new ally to protect.

This post contains spoilers for Episodes 1 and 2 of The Studio on Apple TV. Watch them and then come back!

Babylon defenders, rise up. We have a new ally to protect.

Apple TV hasn’t let me down for the past couple of years, even though it’s having a pretty bad start to the year, and I’ve gladly spent the last ten days watching all ten episodes of Seth Rogen’s newest project The Studio. From the trailer alone, you know to expect tongue-in-cheek humour, crass comedy and some gesture of a Hollywood expose. Don’t be fooled by its twenty to thirty-minute long episodes, this is not your average sitcom. The Studio is an ode to the cinephile, a celebration of cinematic achievement; if not also a condemnation of the modern movie landscape.

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The Promotion

Episode 1 follows Matt Remick’s (Rogen) expedited journey from creative executive to head of Continental Studios, our fictionalised studio of choice. Don’t worry, Apple’s going to take every chance to show off its massive roster of cameos with an opening on-set shot of Paul Dano: because why not? What I love most about the guest appearances in this series is how committed everyone is to a total misrepresentation of who they really are. Dano comes across as a self-absorbed method actor who can’t even get Matt’s name right, but you almost refuse to believe that this could be true. Nevertheless, it very quickly cements Remick’s lack of importance as well the apathetic attitude from crews towards studios.

There’s a slew of jokes about a Jenga film leading to a Kool-Aid cinematic endeavour (actually a major plot point for the series, believe it or not), the way Deadline reporting rules over the lives of the execs, references to the ridiculous economic success of the Mario movie and direct jabs at Warner Brothers mixed in there, too. All this to make Hollywood seem like the worst and simultaneously the best place on Earth, compounded by the seemingly never-ending Old Hollywood jazz music and the roaming dynamic shots. Sometimes this show feels like a mockumentary which is a celebration of the excellent satire Rogen’s been able to shape.

In fact, the self-awareness of the show is so significant, Rogen even writes in some slightly iffy jokes about the Jewish domination of the industry between him and David Krumholtz, making for a great laugh even if it is behind bared teeth. A show that constantly made fun of itself would get old quick, so Rogen makes sure we learn something along the way. When he’s finally promoted by Griffin Mill (Bryan Cranston), Remick learns that his job isn’t to make films, it’s to make movies. This insight into how truly transactional the filmmaking industry really is, isn’t the most comforting thing. Good thing Rogen and his co-star Ike Barinholtz who plays exec Sal Saperstein constantly cut the hard truths (and the cocaine) with stupid takes like casting Mr Beast in a Kool-Aid film.

We’re quickly introduced to the lead ensemble made up of Remick, Saperstein, Kathryn Hahn’s Maya and Chase Sui Wonders’ Quinn as our team of execs who are maybe the worst people ever, but the best team deep down. Constantly bouncing from marketing meeting to director negotiations, it’s Sal and Quinn who keep Matt on track, whilst Maya’s constant abrasiveness tenderises Matt in preparation for any and all interactions with talent.

The last twenty minutes of the first episode are mind-boggingly star-studded. Charlize Theron, Martin Scorsese, Steve Buscemi, and Nick Stoller all play themselves, leaving us struggling to place where the fiction and fact is in this supposedly made-up version of Hollywood. One thing is for sure: Rogen has clearly been inspired by real studios and that makes the Scorsese cameo even more entertaining.

Scorsese approaches Continental for a massive budget to make a Jonestown film and Remick, in all his wisdom, finds the connection between this arthouse lover’s dream of a movie and the Kool-Aid film Griffin has tasked him to make. He trades off a higher budget for Scorsese if he promises to make it more about the Kool-Aid in an exchange that painfully portrays the payoffs that filmmakers have to make with their visions in order to get anything made by a modern studio. It’s only in a closing conversation with ex-studio head Patty (Catherine O’Hara) that Matt realises his job isn’t really to make movies, it’s to ruin them; killing their legacy and the history that enthralled him into the job in the first place.

‘The Promotion’ is a masterclass in opening episodes. You understand every character, there’s a clear motivation, the cinematography is straight out of a film studies class and the sepia-toned suits dotting each frame bring the hues of Old Hollywood back to the surface with each shot.

I willingly watched it twice - and same with the second episode, too.

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The Oner

Let me just say for the record, I was so disappointed to see that the second episode was half the length of the first. Bit of a non-spoiler here, but that first episode is the longest one we get: cherish it!

Funny that this episode comes out so soon after the hype around Adolescence (deserved hype, as I wrote about for A Rabbit’s Foot) with its musings and appreciations on the cinematic achievement of the ‘oner’, the uninterrupted single shot. Of course, this episode doesn’t shy away from criticising the film 1917 for its use of whip pans while showcasing how determined a director has to be to carry out a true one-shot. We get our next cameo from filmmaker Sarah Polley, who doesn’t really want Remick to be on set despite his desperation to be liked by the talent and the wardings-off from Patty and Sal.

This is the most interesting expose of Hollywood in my opinion: the humanisation of the studio head in a way that doesn’t make us value them so much as feel sorry for them. Matt isn’t a talented man by any degree, he’s an average businessman with below-average social skills and even lower self-esteem. This episode would feel like a thirty-minute tragedy if not for the farcical physical comedy of switched outfits, mistimed conversations and crossed wires. Sarah only entertains Matt’s presence so she can get him to pay for the use of a Rolling Stones song: a funny but sad take on the relationships directors have with studios.

It’s also a great way to envision how deceitful the art of filmmaking is. Not the physical filming or the post-production editing so to speak, but the way in which relationships are leveraged to get what everyone wants. The next cameo from Greta Lee (who is unbelievably fit in this role) showcases how much value her kindness to Matt has: he feels welcome enough to stay where he’s not wanted, even if she’s only trying to get a private jet flight out of him. That’s the fun thing about The Studio: no one comes out of Rogen’s writing looking good, everyone sucks an equal amount. The talent, the crew, the execs, the colleagues: everyone is in it for themselves and pats themselves on the back for taking part, regardless of how much money they might be getting for doing it.

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Don’t get me wrong, I know this show doesn’t tell us anything ground-breaking. Audiences are the most cynical they’ve ever been, so The Studio isn’t breaking anyone’s heart with its all-too-obvious truths. It was the same with Babylon, Once Upon A Time In Hollywood, La La Land, Hail Caesar or any film that professes to be a tell-all on Hollywood. It’s not so much that we need shows like this, but we love shows like this. We love to feel in the know with a look under the hood, a sneak peek behind the curtain.

I’m in love with this show for the near future and I’ll be posting full reviews of each weekly release, just like this one. I’ll also be doing short video reviews on my Instagram and TikTok if you’d like to keep up to date there.

As always, I’d love to hear what you thought of the first two episodes - let me know in the comments.