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There have been a number of behind-the-scenes co*edies lately about how hard it is to make movies (like HBO’s canceled The Franchise and the disastrous The Bubble), but they too often mistake shallow references for actually writing jokes and characters. Luckily, that’s not the case with The Studio. The truth is that none of these insider co*edies have been as smart or as purely hysterical as this new Apple TV+ series, which was co-created by Peter Huyck, Alex Gregory, Frida Perez, Evan Goldberg, and Seth Rogen.    

At its core, this is a show about a studio executive trying to navigate the shark-infested waters of art vs. co*merce. As studio head Griffin Mill (Bryan Cranston) says about his fictional workplace, “We don’t make films; we make movies.” But the brilliance of the show is how it satisfies both film and movie lovers at the same time, working as well for cinephiles as those who don’t recognize Nicholas Stoller on sight. It’s a fantastically written show, the best showcase for Rogen’s underrated writing and acting abilities in years. Some have already called it Entourage for the streaming era, but if it stays as consistent as its first two episodes, it will almost instantly be considered better.

Rogen and Goldberg directed both of the first two episodes, and they clearly love oners (long, unbroken single takes). The premiere opens with a oner that doesn’t call attention to itself but viewers of a certain age may quickly recognize its clear influence: The Player. Robert Altman’s film about a put-upon studio executive also opened with an unbroken shot of its protagonist moving through his world. And then the connection beco*es explicit when Cranston joins the scene. The name of Tim Robbins’ leading man in that 1992 film? Griffin Mill, the same as Cranston’s here. One could even stretch and call this a sequel if they wanted to get ambitious.

The new Griffin Mill at Continental is Matt Remick (Rogen), who’s introduced as he visits the set of a film starring Paul Dano and directed by Peter Berg. (The reference to Dano’s excellent directorial effort Wildlife makes it plain that Rogen and Goldberg’s scripts aren’t going to treat viewers like idiots.) 

The premiere centers Matt’s ascension to studio executive after a veteran named Patty (Catherine O’Hara) is let go. Matt’s first big assignment, courtesy of Mill, is to do something with the rights they have to the Kool-Aid brand. Can he find a way to Barbie-ize the big red guy who crashes through walls? They need an auteur-driven Kool-Aid movie. Matt wants Wes Anderson, but they more realistically need to reach out to Nicholas Stoller, who has experience in co*edies having made Forgetting Sarah Marshall, The Five-Year Engagement, and Storks (and also worked with Rogen on two Neighbors movies and Apple’s Platonic). Matt also has a meeting scheduled with Martin Scorsese. Do a movie with him and one with Stoller—and have it both ways.

They hear Stoller’s pitch about how Kool-Aid hangs with Chef Boyardee and how there are different colors than red, leading Matt’s right-hand man Sal (Ike Barinholtz) to get a bit graphic with his response to a pitch that made him feel “double stuffed by Walt Disney and Aaron Sorkin.” (Barinholtz is a hysterical writer and actor, and it’s great to see him get a part that will show that off.) He also gets a funny drop of the over-used “as a father of daughters…” nonsense.

Matt meets with Martin Scorsese, perfectly playing himself, who ends up having a pitch about the Jonestown Massacre, which is famous for mass suicide by…Kool-Aid. Matt sees a chance to merge his visions, buying Scorsese’s script for $10 million and promising him a $250 million budget. He’s on top of the world, even landing an invite to Charlize Theron’s hot party (a nice Long Shot reunion), but marketing director Maya (Kathryn Hahn, just great) knows that Martin Scorsese’s Kool-Aid is a horrible idea. He fights back by pointing out how Tarantino turned tragedy into pop culture in Once Upon A Time…In Hollywood. Why not do the same with the Jonestown Massacre? They’ll need Leo, Brad, and Margot to make that possible. Who does Marty want? Steve Buscemi.

As Matt struggles with the Stoller and Scorsese visions of this IP, they’re forced to meet with Mill to sell them both. Matt panics at the last minute and basically pitches Stoller’s take instead of Scorsese’s, but they’ll need Patty to get that done because she’s friends with Nick. Matt goes to woo her back into the fold, and she holds him for ransom for a ridiculous deal, ending up in a better position than before she got fired. How very Hollywood.

The only piece left to fall is to kill the passion project of arguably the best director that ever lived. Scorsese is so good as Matt and Sal break his heart, revealing they bought his film just to kill it. He’s reduced to tears, leading to Theron kicking these two dream-wreckers out of her party just before Buscemi reveals that Kool-Aid was going to be Scorsese’s final film. (Don’t you even joke about the final Scorsese film, Rogen.) 

The premiere ends with Matt and Sal drinking martinis as they watch one of the best oners of all time in, of course, GoodFellas.

The first episode integrates long, unbroken shots into its storytelling, but the follow-up is explicitly about the structure of films like 1917 and Birdman, or those memorable scenes in films like Boogie Nights and Touch Of Evil. Matt goes to visit the set of Sarah Polley’s new project as the Oscar-winning director tries to get the closing shot of her new feature, a drama starring Greta Lee. It’s a fantastic episode of television, a quick burst of co*edy (it runs almost half the length of the premiere) that works in the fabric of this program or as a standalone short film. And it’s an installment that highlights the rhythms of Rogen and Goldberg’s dialogue, with lines that push the plot forward while also getting regular laughs.

Matt bumbles through the visit from the very beginning, showing up in a suit instead of the casual wear usually seen on sets. They let him change as the stakes are made that the oner needs to go off perfectly or there’s no closing shot. Sal and others suggest siloing Matt into his own video village, but he wants to be a part of the shoot. It’s great character development for Rogen’s leading man because we see more how he struggles with his love for film and his role as the man who cuts the checks. He says something in the premiere that feels echoed in the follow-up: “I got into all of this because I love movies, but now I have this fear that my job is to ruin them.” He basically ruins Polley’s. 

It starts promisingly as he suggests that Lee’s character be smoking a joint as in the original script, a bookend to the film’s opening scene. Just that suggestion sets in motion a series of speedbumps that would make Noel Coward proud. There are AV problems on Matt’s headset, a joint that won’t stay lit, background chatter, and eventually much worse. Matt falls hard enough at one point to possibly cause internal bleeding, and the final straw co*es when the oner is ruined by Matt’s car being in the driveway. Matt and Sal flee the set, ending the episode behind the wheel in a way that recalls OUATIH, which was name-dropped in the premiere. This show incredibly is already building references on references from the episode before. They even get the closing track that Sarah wanted for her movie in “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” Bet that cost a fortune.

Stray observations

• • The Studio reflects the deep movie knowledge of its creators, dropping in references to films like The Player that will be catnip to cinephiles but also working off recent familiar Hollywood tales like the success of Barbie. It’s that balance that makes it so effective.


• • It also drops the occasional dumb, LOL-worthy joke, like Matt wanting to get a vanity license plate to reflect his new position as “Studio Head” but getting one that reads “STD Head.”


• • Someone needs to meme Scorsese saying, “Who the fuck are you and what are you trying to say?” Feels like it might co*e in handy on social media.


• • Patty’s old Hollywood references are going to be the death of me if she keeps talking about the size of Ray Liotta’s dick or partying with Robert Evans.


• • Let’s keep track each episode of the celebrity cameos! The premiere had the memorable collection of Paul Dano, Peter Berg, Nicholas Stoller, Martin Scorsese, Charlize Theron, and Steve Buscemi. The follow-up highlighted Sarah Polley and Greta Lee.