The Franchise Review 2024 Tv Show Series Cast Crew Online
HBO‘s “The Franchise” lives on the edge of chaos. Keeping utter anarchy at bay is a small, dedicated group of unheralded assistant directors and executive producers, but it’s clear from the jump that any sense of control they have over the irrepressible madness of mega-budget studio movie-making is as temporary as it is temperamental. In the opening scene, Dag (Lolly Adefope) walks onto the “Tecto” set for the first time and, like a cog placed into an already-moving machine, slots seamlessly into the frenzied vibes. After a barely acknowledged introduction, she’s running to and fro, helping her boss Daniel (Himesh Patel) avoid one impending disaster after another so they can actually, maybe, for a few seconds even… roll cameras.
They have to diffuse the anxious director, who’s fallen way behind schedule but still refuses to give up any of the 16 set-ups for his “big waterfall scene”; then there’s a background actor dressed as a fish-person whose heavy prosthetics are about to trigger a panic attack; there’s another actor desperate to tell an offensive anecdote, another actor who’s drinking turkey, and a sound guy who’s either drunk or high or both. Clearly, that last concern is unacceptable — during work hours, the sound guy can only be one form of inebriated. “Just another 83 days and we’re done,” Daniel says with a sigh. “Let’s savor every moment.”
“The Franchise” does exactly that, though not in the way Daniel intends. Ruthless in its satire and unrelenting in its approach, writer and showrunner Jon Brown’s half-hour series is a meticulous, all-out assault on superhero sagas. Not since “Extras” or “Episodes” has a comedy seemed so specifically targeted to film nerds and filmmakers, and Hollywood’s preference for soulless content creation merits such a persistent attack. Plus, the savage jokes perform as exquisite weaponry.
Each episode houses a barrage of jabs at stars’ inflated egos and overworked VFX artists, while tackling a broader issue with obvious ties to the Marvel and/or DC cinematic universes. In one entry, they have to fix the male-dominated franchise’s “woman problem,” which includes too few super-powered women onscreen and too many super-toxic fans off-screen. In another, they have to write scenes featuring Chinese farm equipment to make sure “Tecto” gets released in the Land of Dragons. Character cameos are a political negotiation with life and death stakes, location shoots run wild over local customs, and even Scorsese’s misgivings over superhero culture get name-checked.
Our first and third assistant directors, Dag and Daniel (respectively), take note of each absurdity, transgression, and impossible ask, along with Anita (Aya Cash), a producer on the rise. The rest of the cast mainly serve as comedic targets: Eric (Daniel Brühl) is a German director hailed for his arthouse films (like the brilliantly titled festival downer, “The Unlikening”) but overwhelmed and infuriated by the studio system. His star, Adam (Billy Magnussen), is an affable idiot, trying not to let slip just how badly he needs this movie to launch him to legit movie star status. Opposite Adam is his acting opposite: Peter (Richard E. Grant) a renowned thespian happy to remind the crew that this gig is beneath him (while still chasing his next paycheck). Pat is the Kevin Feige-type, a producer across the franchise who comes and goes as he pleases, unless his unseen boss (nicknamed “The Toy Man,” in a nice wink to Disney, for making his many billions off children’s merchandise) relays a message through his constantly chipper, constantly on-the-go proxy person, Bryson (Isaac Powell).
It’s up to Daniel to sort all their wants and needs while keeping the restless crew busy and the production on schedule. That he’s never thanked is a given, but doing all the work and getting none of the credit starts to eat at him — in part, because Dag is all too eager poke the bear. She does that thing everyone hates where she won’t stop talking about the bad thing that just happened. She does that other thing everyone hates where she snoops through your personal stuff while ignoring pressing work assignments. She does that other thing everyone hates where she seizes any opportunity to move up the ladder, no matter whether she’s done anything to deserve a leg up.
Frankly, Dag seems like an annoying co-worker, but what’s more annoying is that it’s hard to tell if she’s meant to be annoying. As “The Franchise” lays out its thesis — that all-consuming corporate greed takes advantage of hard-working idealists until they’re just as corrupted as the rest of the enterprise — Dag feels like an ill-fitting outlier; someone who you’re meant to sympathize with one minute and you hope gets fired the next.
In the broader sweep of the show, cleaner character development would help bring emotional heft to a story that can feel like it’s happy hitting the same satirical target, over and over, monotony be damned. In those opening minutes, when Daniel leads Dag from center stage, back to craft services, through video village, and up the ramp to a platform overseeing the massive warehouse, pilot director Sam Mendes captures the flurry of activity in a single take, also known as a “oner.” It’s a modern trademark of auteur filmmaking, distinguishing “The Franchise” from the mindless Hollywood blockbusters it so eagerly and viciously sends up. Not only does watching Daniel go about his duties in real-time emphasize the constant barrage of questions, complaints, and crises faced by a production staff, but it also illustrates how detached each “artist” is from the “art” they’re helping to create. There’s no time for panic attacks. There’s no time for jokes. There’s not even enough time for the director to shoot the movie the way he wants to shoot it. Fast solutions, no matter how silly they seem or destructive they become, are the only way to get through the day.
People like Dag getting lost in the shuffle is both the point and an oversight. When it comes to blockbuster franchises, “The Franchise” argues the people making the movies don’t matter in the slightest compared to what they’re making. But the people also don’t matter as much as they could to the series itself. “The Franchise” doesn’t make meaningful time for its characters. I don’t know any more about Daniel or Dag or Anita than I did at the start of the show. Some of that’s by design, but some of that is life imitating art — or satire imitating its target. A little more emotional connectivity would go a long way in this laser-focused lampooning.
