Studio bosses have never been viewed warmly. Once mocked as cigar-chomping blowhards, that perception has only worsened with tech moguls elbowing their way in and earning a reputation as highly paid killers of creativity. For reasons unclear, “The Studio” on Apple TV+ steers in the opposite direction. A satire of the movie business, Seth Rogen plays Matt Remick, a studio executive who isn’t cold-blooded but hapless. Recently promoted to the top job, misery ensues (humorously, or at least that’s the aim) as he finds himself making one soul-crushing decision after another.
He’s a cinephile, see. He doesn’t view himself as just some empty suit focused on the bottom line, even if that’s exactly what the CEO to whom he answers (Bryan Cranston) expects. It’s a version of Hollywood where fumbling insecurities and self-induced humiliations are the primary impediments, rather than external forces currently (and radically) reshaping the industry.
It took five people to conceive of “The Studio” — including Rogen and frequent writing partner Evan Goldberg, along with Peter Huyck, Alex Gregory and Frida Perez — which is a lot of show creators considering the result is deeply unfunny and little more than a rehash of past Hollywood sendups. But maybe that’s just emblematic of (gestures vaguely at everything). The show is also notably ugly to look at, as if everything, especially the studio offices, were covered in a dingy, nicotine-stained haze, even if there’s nary a cigarette in sight.
Two and three decades ago, Hollywood satires still had some teeth, whether skewering the film business (“The Player,” “Swimming with Sharks,” “Bowfinger”) or the TV business (“Beggars and Choosers,” “The TV Set,” “The Comeback”). These days, there’s a reluctance to go for the jugular — even affectionately — despite the twin existential crises of streaming and artificial intelligence. No one in “The Studio” is especially preoccupied with the troubling shifts brought on by either, and it’s not just a missed opportunity, it’s conspicuously weird.
Back in the real world, people who work in the industry are in a “fight for the survival of Hollywood and culture as we know it,” entertainment columnist Richard Rushfield noted recently, but “no one here is acting like we’re even in this fight, let alone trying to win it.” It’s as if “The Studio” were manifested just to prove this point. If it weren’t for the presence of cell phones, the show could be set in 1994. But instead of “Swimming with Sharks,” it would be “Swimming with Guppies.”
It’s ironic because Rogen appeared on “The Comeback,” which is a far more ferocious but also empathetic portrait of rancid grasping against a backdrop of celebrity dreams and Tinseltown wishes. By contrast, “The Studio” feels paper-thin. An episode hinges on the premise that no one has the guts to tell a famous director his latest work needs cuts, so it becomes a round robin of “not it.” In another episode, an executive observes sourly that directors can manipulate the studio to get their way “because in this town, they call the shots.”
I’m curious how Rogen & Co. landed on the idea of studio bigwigs as powerless nobodies at the mercy of directors. The more widely held perception is that people who run studios are an unholy combination of insecure, wildly overconfident and merciless, which suggests all kinds of comedic possibilities. Instead, Matt is nerdy and puppish; the little guy, despite the millions he’s surely paid. It’s as if actual executives took the show’s creators aside and said: “We’re the real underdogs, tell that story.”
In a recent interview, Rogen said they drew influence from “The Office,” specifically in how “the boss is the most tragic figure on the show. Just because you’re at the top of the power structure, it doesn’t mean you’re less relatable or funny.” This is a misunderstanding of “The Office,” but it’s also a misunderstanding of workplace power dynamics and whose experience is actually “relatable” to most audiences.
Lest we forget, it was the studio heads who were content to ride out a prolonged Hollywood labor dispute hinging on issues such as pay that reflects the increased cost of living. During the strike, one studio went so far as to cut back all the trees that provided shade to picketers. Rogen is doing quite a number here equating “tragic” with “callous” and “highly-compensated.”
Would a floppy guy like Matt even get the top job in this economic climate? Doubtful! His former boss (Catherine O’Hara) calls him Mr. Magoo. That’s accurate, and the reason why nothing about his promotion is believable, not unless the studio is an elaborate money-laundering scheme. The vice president of production (Ike Barinholtz) is more typically the kind of strategically glad-handing guy who makes it to the top.
But it’s the bumbling, lily-livered, squishy-hearted Mr. Magoo who somehow finds himself in the cutthroat position of running a studio. Maybe the incongruity of this premise would be funny — maybe — if the results weren’t so uninspired and desperate to be “Curb Your Enthusiasm”-adjacent. Matt is his own worst enemy as he ping pongs from one calamity to another, and if I’m being charitable, it’s possible the show’s premise is: “You think these executives in charge are slick? Think again.” Still, it lacks bite.
Occasionally, a line will land: “I’ve got a script about an Australian chess team that cheats, will you read it?” I also laughed at Matt’s habit of referring to the studio’s various films as “my movie,” as if he were the artistic force behind them instead of just the corporate part of the equation. And the show captures the kind of bull — and bullying — that passes for small talk in Hollywood.
But more generally, “The Studio” is missing a point of view that goes deeper than “the zany absurdity of it all — that’s showbiz!” One episode includes a running gag about Matt’s preoccupation with what he’s wearing to a set visit. Is it funny? No. It’s not even an effective jab at a character who suddenly cares about cultivating a “cool boss” persona. At one point, he does briefly grow half a spine in a showdown with Ron Howard. But it’s an anomaly. There is no larger arc. No How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Job. Just more swimming with guppies.
I keep coming back to Rogen’s comments, which are worth putting in a larger context. Look around at our current moment and then ask yourself about the motivations of any story that puts this much time, effort and money into portraying individuals at the top of the power structure as “relatable.”
“The Studio” — 1.5 stars (out of 4)
Where to watch: Apple TV+
Nina Metz is a Tribune critic.