I am more than probably naive about these things, but in spite of documentary evidence to the contrary, not to mention a century of backstage dramas and comedies peopled with insane directors, ham actors, difficult divas, cynical screenwriters and the like, I am inclined to believe that movies are made in a spirit of love and cooperation, egos parked for the good of the art. François Truffaut’s “Day for Night” has always struck me as the ideal picture of that process — not without challenges, or quirky personalities, but with a clear sense of purpose. Everyone knows how to do their job.
“The Franchise,” a new series from HBO premiering Sunday that takes a comic look at the production of a second-tier superhero movie from a Marvel-like studio called Maximum, is the nightmare version of that dream.
We are on the set of “Tecto,” named for a superhero — played by Adam, who is played by Billy Magnussen — whose gimmicks are an “invisible jackhammer” and a glove that can cause earthquakes. The film is being directed by Eric (Daniel Brühl), an arty director who has won awards in other contexts and is unduly proud of being friends with Christopher Nolan, but is unfit for the studio system or his subject. “I’m a weird, difficult guy … I’m strange, and I’m serious. I don’t know how to think like the kind of guy who washes his car, eats a chicken drumstick with his wife and has a bath.” The production is behind schedule, not least because, as someone points out, Eric spends “an average of 52 minutes” talking to actors “before take one.”
The hub of this universe, and the series’ most sympathetic character, is assistant director Daniel (Himesh Patel), who manages the actors, the crew, the director and whatever else is necessary to make things run smoothly, or at least give the impression that they do. (Nothing actually runs smoothly, unless it’s during the hundred or so days of production we don’t actually see, and Daniel teeters continually on the edge of a nervous breakdown.) Ever at his side is Dag (Lolly Adefope), on her first day as third assistant director and, one would guess, in the movie business — though, in her mind, she’s ready to run it — who acts as a sort of chattering Greek chorus providing ironic counterpoint to every conversation.
Adam worries over his physique, which he has tried to mold with Doritos, squats and a drug designed to fatten up livestock, “specifically sheep.” Peter (Richard E. Grant), who plays Eye — a “Tecto” character whose purpose is never made clear — frets that he’s not No. 1 on the call sheet (“Call sheet and my mother agree, I’m just second best”), even as he seethes with contempt for the project and everyone involved with it. His character stands in for the many classically trained British actors who have signed on to genre films, because work is work. (Alec Guinness called “Star Wars” “rubbish,” “a world of second hand childish banalities” with “lamentable dialogue.” Anthony Hopkins described his work in Marvel’s “Thor” movies as “sit on the throne, shout a bit.” But it would surprise me to learn they expressed these opinions on set.)
Further complicating Daniel’s job are his old girlfriend Anita (Aya Cash), who arrives to take over production; Pat (Darren Goldstein), who represents the brand, a large presence whose apparent friendliness is in itself threatening; and Bryson (Isaac Cole Powell), the intermediary of an unseen studio head. Jessica Hynes is subtly funny as deadpan script supervisor Steph, pathologically devoted to Eric (“If the studio tries to muck about with your vision in any way I will cut my heart out with a sushi knife”). Nick Kroll drops in as the Gurgler, on loan for a cameo from a better-funded film being made on a neighboring stage, and an actor with whom Adam has history.
As a picture of chaos — which is really all “The Franchise” presents — it can sometimes be effective, though accelerating to the level of farce. A long opening tracking shot following Daniel around the production does give a good sense of what it takes to make a movie, but the film being made is so patently awful and threadbare — several orders of magnitude worse than the worst real-world superhero film — that “The Franchise” doesn’t really register either as satire or parody. A parody of a parody, perhaps, and not a loving one. The film within the film seems on the whole closer to a 1970s Saturday morning kids show than anything a major studio would turn out in 2024, and its dialogue — “Behold the Lilac Ghost, a woman of maximum potency, [with] a stick so very, very potent” — like something you might hear in a well-oiled session of Dungeons and Dragons.
With Armando Iannucci as an executive producer and Sam Mendes (who helmed two James Bond films) directing the pilot, it has a pedigree; creator Jon Brown wrote for “Succession,” as well as Iannucci’s “Veep” and “Avenue 5.” Obviously, they have inside knowledge of the business and the craft — several cast members have appeared in real-world superhero films — and it is possible that every crazy thing in “The Franchise” is drawn from life. But the craziness exists at the exclusion of all else — the characters are all too busy to forge actual relationships — so that one wonders why anyone is bothering to make this film in the first place. That said, “The Franchise” is a fairly diverting, if somewhat repetitious comedy with a cast that makes for good company — I’ll follow Adefope anywhere — even as they make one another miserable.
Martin Scorsese’s declaration that superhero movies are killing cinema is quoted in the series, and it’s an opinion one suspects the makers of “The Franchise” share.
“What if this isn’t a dream factory?” Dag asks Daniel. “What if it’s an abattoir?”
