Rare is the opportunity to kick a superhero when they're down, but HBO is lacing up its boots with The Franchise, a satirical take on tentpole filmmaking from creator Jon Brown (Dead Pixels) and executive producers Armando Iannucci (Veep) and Oscar-winner Sam Mendes. Not to be a nerd, but wouldn't that make The Franchise a villain?
If nothing else, its premiere shows a mischievous streak in navigating the chaotic terrain of its central film production, where creative desires clash with corporate meddling and a browbeaten crew looks on with half-lidded eyes. Listen closely and you might hear the network cackling in the background. Who knew it had a sense of humor about this stuff?
HBO, remember, is owned by Warner Bros. Discovery, home of the freshly assembled DC Studios, which aims to course-correct its own franchises after years adrift in choppy waters. It makes one wonder if there's any internal concern about The Franchise taking aim at tentpole moviemaking (and all of the backlot backbiting that comes with it) in the wake of David Zaslav's nuking of Batgirl for a tax writeoff, that #ReleaseTheSnyderCut kerfuffle, or the disastrous hatchet job made of David Ayer's Suicide Squad or…well, you get the picture. Still, what's up? Is WBD embracing The Franchise as a good-natured auto-critique or a face-saver that centers the weary crew in this profession as its real heroes? Maybe it's doing a bit of both?
And I have to ask: Why The Franchise and why now? A cynical dressing-down of superhero-movie production might have had more subversive oomph in 2021 when Marvel Studios initiated a streaming bonanza with WandaVision and tried (in vain) to stifle behind-the-scenes discord during the making of Black Widow (a compromised production that ended in a public row between the studio and its star). It might have packed a bigger punch around the release of James Gunn's The Suicide Squad, considering the director's brief cancellation at Marvel, which resulted in a new command position for Gunn at DC Studios.
The Franchise? Now? With Marvel casting Robert Downey, Jr. as Doctor Doom for transparently sweaty reasons and DC smashing the reboot button like its jittery comic-book counterparts? Now that we're talking about it, Brown, Iannucci, and Mendes'stiming feels kind of perfect.
The show's premiere follows Dag (Lolly Adefope), a new 3rd assistant director entering the production of Maximum Studios' Tecto: Eye Of The Storm on day 34 of a 117-day shoot. That tagline resonates with her as she trails the circuitous footfalls of the first assistant director, Daniel (a whirlwind Himesh Patel), who gives the vibe of somebody propelled by sheer anxiety and three consecutive hours of sleep. Her first day is a real corker, too, with a parade of prima donna extras (one Fish Man seems extra anxious), a slumming British thespian/walking HR nightmare (Richard E. Grant), and Eric (Daniel Brühl), the film's German director with delusions of grandeur that are indulged by nearly everyone on the crew.
Dag shows both resilience and rookie jitters on her first day: She pulls Daniel away from a nuclear-grade trans joke seconds before the punchline drops (good); later, she probes Daniel's personal life concerning Anita (You're The Worst's Aya Cash), a new producer at Maximum and, we have to assume, a former flame (bad). "This is not an appropriate 3rd AD interaction," Daniels says almost robotically as he stashes his baffling plush sleeping helmet away. "I just need you to swap the battery out on that [slams his walkie] and…charge my vape."
Imminent catastrophe continues apace once Maximum Studios' malefic honcho, Pat Shannon (Darren Goldstein), arrives with story changes that adversely affect Tecto. Among Pat's issues is the lighting, which Maximum feels is too dark compared to the saturated aesthetic "preferred by the culture." To that, Eric genially obliges his obsequiousness. Maximum's other note? An ignominious end for the Fish People, an aquatic race who carry thematic weight for Eric's vision of Tecto. To this, the director finally protests, "The Fish People are my movie!" Pat replies, "Or are they?"
Pat's role in The Franchise is clearly modeled after Kevin Feige of Marvel Studios, whose singular vision has been stretched like Mr. Fantastic across five (six? seven?) phases of cinematic chaos. Pat is a baleful presence on set, more so than I imagine Mr. Feige is, but I can't imagine the latter's mid-production fussing causing not one but two actors—Peter (Grant) and Tecto's star Adam (Billy Magnussen)—having their eyes flash-banged into red sores just because he demanded brighter lighting.
This early in the going, it's clear that heightened lunacy is The Franchise's primary superpower. We've already seen entire races of fish people (and their heavily designed makeup!) swapped out for extras in green unitards, standing in for whatever Maximum comes up with later. (Between this and Daniel's hidden cherry trees, Tecto is burning through cash with a speed that might give Barry Allen pause.) Mid-stream production havoc is synonymous with superhero movies (at least, to us dorks who continue to follow them), and, as an observation, feels about five years stale. Still, who knew a satire about such low-hanging fruit could be this funny?
That's not to say the dialogue (by Brown) isn't stilted and exacerbated somewhat by Mendes shooting the ensemble using wide, sweeping single-takes. As a consequence, quite a few of the rapid-fire yuks and droll bon mots delivered in The Franchise can feel stagey, but they're delivered to the cheap seats by enthusiastic players, suggesting electric on-set energy for The Franchise—a good sign for future episodes. (Speaking of enthusiasm, Grant is totally on one as Peter, the theatrical ex-pat with a dodgy resume.) I can't believe I'm saying this, especially as so many shows stretch uncomplicated ideas beyond reasonable season lengths, but I wish "Scene 31A: Tecto Meets Eye" had been longer. There are glimmers of deeper characterization here (what is up with Daniel's voicemail?), but for now, The Franchise is letting its inside-baseball shenanigans be the star attraction.
The final scene between Dag and Daniel, when production wraps for the day and they can have a frank moment to broach the not-great vibes between them, provides The Franchise with something heftier to chew on: a joke about working in the entertainment industry that cuts to the bone and bodes ill tidings for the Tecto set. From Daniel: "So, this guy Curly works in a circus for thirty years, following the elephants around with a big bucket, scooping up all the elephant shit. And at the end of every night, he has to burn it all. So he goes home, reeking of burnt elephant shit. One day, his brother comes to him, says, 'Curly! Great news! I got you a job at my office! Decent salary; you can work regular hours.' And Curly goes, 'What? And quit show business?'" With that, he drives off, leaving Dag to brood on his meaning—and her future.
