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The annual fraternity of Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk returns, with promises of connection to "Murder House" and "Coven", for a silly first look at the end of the world.
If your Twitter account is organized like mine, the week or the last two weeks have been followed by a series of movie critics who admired Bradley Cooper's discovery of Lady Gaga.
And if Ryan Murphy's Twitter feed is something like mine, the TV writer probably spent last week or two screaming in a cyber-vacuum, "Dudes!" – I like to imagine Ryan Murphy calling the Twitter collective "dudes" – "I've built a whole season of American horror story around Lady Gaga! It was extremely popular! She won a world of gold! "
Part of the lesson here, aside from the fact that movie critics do not have the time to watch enough television, is that American horror story has become a fundamentally fungible franchise. The eighth season, American horror story: Apocalypse, created this week, and it could as well be the fifth or fifteenth season of the anthology series. There is a basic audience obsessed with each entry and the connections between them, but my conversations with people are much more often around the finished seasons, the season after two or three episodes, and the way they present themselves. . just to see what happens, without feeling a real investment. A once visceral, shocking and disturbing franchise began to look like something that creators Murphy and Brad Falchuk have surpassed, the haunted annual hayride that they ride with their friends between larger projects.
Wednesday's nothing American horror story: Apocalypse The first, which debuted without any episodes sent to critics in advance, was even scary or shocking. I think it's the first time I've had such a response to a AHS Entrance. There has almost always been an image or idea under my skin, an expression of something primordial and visceral that reinforces the camp or the oddness. I imagine that things will end up becoming more and more flawed as the season progresses and the authors will take pleasure in undermining the initial stupidity. Man, however, the first episode was just a lot of nonsense.
If I had to describe the genre of this season, it would not be a horror of the end of the world. It would be The simpsons parodies of end-of-world films, as if a seven-minute slice of "Treehouse of Horror" would be spread over a season.
The premise, as it is, implies that Los Angeles is panicking about an emergency alert that turns out not to be a hoax in Hawaii. Missiles were launched and world capitals were destroyed and, in panic, Coco (Leslie Grossman), an influential social media aspirant, discovers that her family has reserved an investment in a secure bunker. The chaos ensuing on all sides, she heads to the bunker accompanied by his personal assistant (Billie Lourd), his hairdresser (Evan Peters) and his grandmother of hairdresser (Joan Collins).
The bunker turns out to be a semi-secure underground facility, nurtured by a group of shadows called The Cooperative, which houses a mix of genetically ideal human specimens (including Timothy Campbell and Emily Santos of Emily Kyle Allen) and Many of the rich, all under the strict supervision of Wilhemina Venable, Sarah Paulson, and Miriam Mead, of Kathy Bates, who can work for The Cooperative and are just having fun with the guests.
I call the first of American horror story: Apocalypse "silly", but it's not the worst thing in the world. Bradley Buecker's fast-tracking pre-credit sequence in an incredibly sunny Los Angeles backdrop was filled with malicious chuckles, especially thanks to Coco's partner, Billy Eichner, and then to the incomparable Collins. initial reaction to pending decimation is to call "false news."
The bunker itself is a triumph of Gothic-modern production design and spectacular costume work. The survivors were divided into Purples (high priority guests) and Grays (workers who should be thankful just to be alive), all stimulated by the use of the Collins soundtrack. "and" The Morning After "by Maureen McGovern I do not imagine that Murphy and Falchuk would be fooling around, especially when the pilot's most disturbing scene is also his biggest joke (and a particularly surprising word game about a guy named Stew.) You do not do that if your goal is anything other than laughter.
The much-anticipated overtaking of previous seasons, the basis of most of the pre-premieres, is initially limited. Yes, the character played by Cody Fern towards the end of the episode is a major reference. But if you did not know who he is, it would not affect your understanding of the first rough, time-consuming and suggest a possible tone similar to an ironic version of The omega man. Several other characters played by recurring members AHS together, they feel like direct or indirect reminders to previous seasons, but they might just as well not be. The threat of this fragile story is consumed by House of murder and coven references are perhaps the least interesting or attractive aspect of apocalypse until there.
What does all this mean? Until now, almost nothing. the Worship The season has found Murphy and Falchuk in satire, taking advantage of post-election terror and discomfort. It was aggressively political and on the nose and left some fans frustrated, as if previous episodes had caused them to wait for something more subtle. apocalypse still has a weak undercurrent of paranoia in the Trump era, as Twitter's daily reading, when one does not wonder why people are shocked that Lady Gaga is a capable actress, also makes you fear that the world is breaking down.
I've chosen to read the season as Murphy's expression of his own fears about FX's reaction to his recently signed deal with Netflix. The first reflects Murphy's terror that he and other "desirable" creative talents would be lured into some kind of underground bunkers by The Cooperative – Disney and his new Fox-affiliated acquisitions – and said they were unable to leave. as long as the world is no longer habitable. . In the expanded metaphor, these individuals sequestered privileges and DNA benefits are the future of humanity and television.
The bunker could even represent American horror story like a franchise, a hermetically sealed environment that Murphy can not escape even though pose and American Crime Story have proven that he prefers to be part of a vast and vast world. In this scenario, Paulson plays a highly veiled version of John Landgraf and the "canker-pus monsters beyond doors" would be the way in which types of networks and cables attempt to portray the uncertainty represented by Ted Sarandos and Netflix. This would mean that the other occupants of the bunker represent other showrunners kept in isolation while the former media establishment is trying to determine the next step. Dinah Stevens, from Adina Porter, is she supposed to remember Shonda Rhimes? Is Andrew de Jeffrey Bowyer-Chapman the representative of Kenya Barris? Who was Stew supposed to be? And what's his warning tale is supposed to warn against mobile showrunners?
For the record, this is probably not what American horror story: Apocalypse is about.
It's about chewing Joan Collins sets, combinations of dangerous materials that look like fetish clothes, fantastic wood-carved pre-titles, pony ponies, Billie Heavy's scathing stalemate and the promise that the characters we stay there long enough. I probably will not do it.
Actors: Sarah Paulson, Kathy Bates, Evan Peters, Billie Heavy, Leslie Grossman, Adina Porter, Emma Roberts and Joan Collins
Showrunners: Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk
Airs Wednesdays at 10 pm ET / PT (FX)
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