“The Politician” had me from the moment its trailer debuted on Netflix. Director Ryan Murphy’s dramedy — dramatic comedy — promised everything my overly-particular tastes enjoy. Gwyneth Paltrow? Check. Eye-catching architecture? There’s plenty. Political satire? It’s my everything. But despite my love for the show after watching all eight episodes during a rainy-day binge, I realized Murphy’s latest is a jumbled concoction of hits and misses.
The first episode opens with holier-than-thou high school senior Payton Hobart meeting with Harvard’s Dean of Admissions before cutting into one of the most intriguing title sequences I’ve ever seen. Sufjan Stevens’s “Chicago” plays over the careful assembly of a wooden Payton statue filled with presidential novels and various trophies, poking fun at the delicately-concocted personalities of most modern politicians.
With the help of Payton’s three quirky — and inexplicably rich — best friends running his campaign for student class president, we get the sense he’s a shoo-in to win, the obvious choice. But over time Payton’s steady trajectory gets interrupted by copious amounts of drama: a girl goes missing, a wedding falls to pieces and there’s even attempted murder. It’s a lot, even for Ryan Murphy, most prominently known for his multi-award-winning shows such as “Pose,” “American Horror Story” and “Glee.”
From the pilot, it’s obvious Murphyhad his eyes set on spreading some sort of eye-opening message to the audience, but by the show’s third episode, I was lost on any sort of overarching theme. Too many distractions, too many idiosyncratic characters and not enough reality in a TV show that relentlessly stresses its importance. Whether it be the political indifference of Saint Sebastian High School’s students or Payton’s election opponent, River Barkley, dying by suicide early into the race, the dramatic twists never seem to end.
Murphy is stuck on the outside looking in, and it shows. His idealized version of coming of age in 2019 wildly contrasts the actuality of modern adolescence. He’s trying to tell a Gen-Z story through his own Gen-X lens, inhibiting younger viewers from truly connecting with the characters — a task difficult enough already given the esoteric nature of their “top 1 percent” Santa Barbara community. What could’ve been a show about America’s need to ask ourselves who we consider to be “the best person for the job” winds up as a hodgepodge of over-the-top parodies that leave no lasting impact.
Murphy’s approach to appealing to Gen-Z can best be described with a quote from Astrid Sloan, River’s girlfriend who eventually takes his place running against Payton after his death. In the pilot, she promises River she will, “do better at appearing more authentic from now on.” That “appearing” sticks out. She’s not promising to be authentic, but merely to convince the world she is. Much like Astrid, “The Politician” doesn’t depict crystal-clear authenticity, but it wants to so badly that you can’t help but to give it the benefit of the doubt.
Every illustration of teenage life misses the mark. Saint Sebastian’s student council elections are far too elaborate, boys have neatly manicured hair and wear sweaters over linen shirts and not one person does any schoolwork. Ever. In fact, the only bit of actual education occurs when River visits Payton’s house to tutor him in Mandarin. He ends up making Payton cry after five minutes, kissing him sporadically and immediately leaving.
Despite the organizational chaos, the pieces of the show I did like were strong enough to keep me engaged. I enjoyed the witty references to current events, applauded Zoey Deutch’s acting as questionably sick Infinity Jackson and didn’t entirely hate the two musical numbers performed by Ben Platt. I mean, you can’t cast Ben Platt in something and not have him sing. It’s a rule.
“The Politician” forgets its audience, which isn’t a good thing when some elements of the show — beyond “feel sympathetic for rich, white men” — are incredibly important. For example, the show does a comparatively good job including conversations about mental health and the traumatic aftermath of losing someone you love. There’s also a lot of diversity, even though it’s presented in awkward ways. Payton’s mother Georgina has an affair with a woman who runs the stables on the Hobart family estate; both Payton and Astrid uncomfortably rely on identity politics when choosing their running mates. The presence of intelligent and independent female characters is something to be applauded, though seems ironic in a show about every character giving up their lives to see a self-centered, privileged man rise to the top. Nevertheless, “The Politician” certainly has its strengths.
“The Politician” has everything you’d expect from a Ryan Murphy project — homoerotic subtext and Jessica Lange to name a few — but it lacks the conciseness and consistency to pull everything together. It isn’t the game-changer the trailer promised me it would be, but merely puts on the clothes to seem “in with the kids.” Circling back to Astrid’s quote about authenticity, I think River’s response best encompasses thoughts about the show. “I don’t want you to appear authentic,” he says. “I want you to be authentic.”
Back and stressed as ever, senior Phoebe Hendon is relieved her second year on staff has come along to put an end to corona-cation. As co-Head Copy Editor, Phoebe can’t wait to see what caffeine-induced benders Harbinger sends her on this year. When she’s not writing 1000+ word first drafts or editing until her headaches are louder than the Harry Styles she’s listening to, she’s probably downing her 3rd package of Costco seaweed in the trenches of a Netflix binge. »
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