I waited until June 10, 2023, to watch The Idol by The Weeknd. I watched it for The Weeknd, and I wasted my entire Saturday on this show.
I went in with an open mind, hoping for a masterpiece. As a big fan of Abel’s music, I thought, Hey, maybe this will be something great. But at the same time, I had my doubts—Euphoria never really interested me, and from what I had read, Sam Levinson wasn’t exactly the MVP of this production. Still, I gave it a fair shot.
The first two episodes premiered at Cannes, and let’s just say, the reviews weren’t exactly glowing. But I, being the eternally hopeful fool that I am, convinced myself that this was all part of some grand strategy. Maybe they made it bad on purpose to stir controversy! Maybe it’s secretly brilliant!
By episode 3, I was still in denial. I thought, Okay, okay, they’re just setting the stage! The real fireworks will begin now! (Spoiler alert: They did not.) But at least I had hope.
Then came episode 4. My expectations were as high as a Tollywood hero’s six-feet jump in slow motion. I had heard rumors that the show was being cut down to five episodes instead of ten. A tight, well-paced story? Maybe this is where things get interesting!
Nope. Instead, I was rewarded with the realization that I had spent four hours of my life on something that felt like a rich kid’s attempt at making a scandalous “art film.”
Then episode 5 arrived. Finally, the climax! But instead of a satisfying ending, I was left with a bigger mystery—Why did I even watch this?
Let’s talk about Abel’s acting. I don’t blame people for thinking he was bad—his character was written to be a creepy, emotionless weirdo. So, in a way, he acted exactly as the script demanded. Was it good acting? Well, he certainly convinced Twitter that he might actually be like that in real life. That’s gotta count for something, right?
The writing? Ah, yes. A work of genius, if genius meant throwing random “shocking” moments into a script and calling it art. At times, I wondered if the writers were sitting in a dimly lit room, sipping on overpriced coffee, and saying things like, Bro, let’s make it deep. Let’s make it edgy. Let’s make people uncomfortable.
Except, instead of deep or edgy, it felt like they took every chaotic idea, dumped it into a blender, and hit the highest speed setting.
Despite everything, The Idol wasn’t the absolute worst show I’ve ever seen. It had good cinematography, decent pacing, and at times, the acting wasn’t half bad. The music? Fantastic. But the story? Like watching a slow-motion car crash—painful yet oddly fascinating.
And here’s the funny part: No matter how much people complained, it was still the #1 streamed show every week it aired. Hate-watching, curiosity, or genuine enjoyment—whatever the reason, The Idol managed to stay in the spotlight.
At the end of it all, I have only one question left: Can we finally admit that The Idol wasn’t a “so-bad-it’s-good” show? It was just… there?
Final rating? Somewhere between Why did I watch this? and Eh, at least the music was good.