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“If it was up to me,” an idealistic Hollywood executive played by Seth Rogen assures his assistant in the series premiere of The Studio, “we’d be focusing on making the next Rosemary’s Baby or Annie Hall or, you know, some great film that wasn’t directed by a f-ckin’ pervert.” Then, suddenly, it is up to him. Upon arriving at the offices of his employer, the fictional Continental Studios, Rogen’s Matt Remick learns his boss has just been fired. The studio’s mercurial CEO (Bryan Cranston) offers him the job—but only if he agrees to make a Kool-Aid movie. Matt doesn’t hesitate before replying in the wall-smashing affirmative: “Oh! Yeah!”
Ten minutes into the Apple TV+ comedy, just about everything we need to know about the new head of Continental is apparent. Movies are Matt’s world. As we soon discover, he has no significant other, no kids, no real social life. His knowledge of cinema, from action franchises and Oscar winners to obscure indies and the international art house, rivals that of any film geek. And, for the most part, he has good intentions; when he gets his promotion, he keeps a promise to make his assistant (Chase Sui Wonders’ Quinn) a creative exec. Yet he’s so desperate to succeed in an industry that is now, itself, desperate to succeed in the face of technological upheaval, labor unrest, audience fragmentation, and a post-pandemic slump in theater attendance, that he is in effect no better than any other spineless suit. Which is precisely how the filmmakers and actors Matt reveres see him. Worse still, he’s insecure enough that this constant rejection sends him into a spiral of self-loathing buffoonery that gives The Studio, created by Rogen, Evan Goldberg, Peter Huyck, Alex Gregory, and Frida Perez, the rhythms of a Curb Your Enthusiasm, Studio Head Edition.
The Studio is a timely, funny, and exuberantly—though not uncritically—cinephilic panorama of a business caught in the latest battle of a war between art…
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