Fetch those sunglasses and go-go boots — we’re heading back to the sixties. Ben Carpenter reviews Apple TV+’s newest sunny miniseries, Palm Royale.
★★½
For Kristen Wiig, a starring role as a power-hungry housewife turned socialite in Apple TV+’s Palm Royale should be a golden ticket to a Golden Globe. Acclaimed for her time on Saturday Night Live as well as her work on the cultural phenomenon Bridesmaids (2011), which nabbed her an Oscar nomination, Wiig has yet to get her hands on a role that truly displays her comedic and dramatic prowess in equal measure. Unfortunately, and not despite her best efforts, Palm Royale has all the ingredients of a truly delicious series but somehow tastes stale upon arrival.
Premiering on March 20th and concluding this past Wednesday, marketing was light on this high-budget period drama, and it’s easy to understand why upon experiencing its strange and jumbled tone.
Based on the novel Mr. & Mrs. American Pie by Juliet McDaniel, Palm Royale covers Maxine’s attempted ascent into Palm Beach high society in the summer of 1969. Set against a backdrop of cultural touchstones such as the moon landing, the Vietnam War and the rise of second-wave feminism, Maxine struggles to feel truly welcome amongst the Floridian elite at the eponymous club, and relies upon her husband’s family name, and money, to climb the social ladder.
With a flurry of supporting stars, including but not limited to Ricky Martin, Allison Janney, Laura Dern, Kaia Gerber and the legendary Carol Burnett, it’s impossible to think this series wouldn’t be a hit. On paper, Palm Royale could very well seem like something akin to Big Little Lies meets a more feminine Mad Men, with a hint of the generational wealth one may find in Succession. But alas, Palm Royale is simply an awkward mess that feels amateur in its execution and derivative in its themes.
We first meet Maxine as an unwelcome guest at the Palm Royale Resort, sitting a distance away from the glamorous socialites that control the society she is longing to be a part of. Equal parts mysterious as she is desperate, Wiig’s commitment to Maxine’s hilarious quirks often acts as a life raft amidst the series’ sense of aimlessness, and her position as an anti-hero is quickly established. Wiig’s Maxine is an inherently flawed character, one that would make for an interesting insight into the depravity people resort to when seeking out material desires. However, from the outset, it’s clear that Palm Royale seems uncertain of what it wants to be.
Despite the first signs of narrative deficiencies, the introduction of the socialite women feels relatively organic, and Allison Janney shines as Evelyn Rollins; the current queen bee of the resort. The surface-level relationships portrayed between each of the women remain the series’ strongest asset, as each and every socialite values their social standing above all else. Leslie Bibb as Dinah Donohue embodies this feeling, never once truly warming to Maxine despite benefitting from her minimal humanity when it comes to an unwanted pregnancy.
The bizarre tone of the series begins to take shape when contrasting the presence of Ricky Martin and Laura Dern with that of Wiig and Janney. In the case of the former pairing, both Martin and Dern prove reliably excellent in flexing their dramatic muscles as opposers of Palm Beach’s antiquated dynamics, however their efforts can’t help but feel misplaced. For Wiig and Janney it’s clear that they interpret the source material of Mr. & Mrs. American Pie to be far more satirical and campy than their dramatic counterparts, an acting decision that mixes well with the pastel colouring and tacky hedonism of Palm Beach. Martin and Dern on the other hand, as well as Kaia Gerber as Misty, seem to embody a more straight approach, making for an unsettling tonal shift that can occur very literally from scene to scene.
As the series continues forward, it’s often easy to forgive the jumbled tone in favour of the truly brilliant costume and production design that works effortlessly to paint Palm Beach as a fantasy world.
With each scene comes a new outfit for Maxine, and the continual flow of parties, balls and social events provides the perfect opportunity to be truly sucked into the same escapism that made Palm Beach such a desirable location 50 years ago. But despite these fabulous elements, none of this can distract from the lack of inspiration in terms of cinematography and direction. Frankly put, Apple’s Palm Royale feels as though it was shot on an iPhone; a very good iPhone certainly, but an iPhone nonetheless. With such an eccentric and exclusive backdrop, much of the series’ visual approach feels cheap and lifeless, doing a massive disservice to both the artistic elements of Palm Royale as well as the potentially juicy plot details. Whether the plot flounders as a result of, or in conjunction with this issue is uncertain, but the story itself quickly derails.
With each episode we find Maxine jumping one hurdle after another, with the series’ events explicitly leading up ‘The Beach Ball’, the summer season’s biggest event. However, it becomes increasingly clear that nothing can stop her, largely due to the plot restrictions the series traps itself in. With this as an eventuality, nothing really acts as a surprise, and the overlong order of ten episodes truly begins to drag. In the meantime, we’re overdosed with an abundance of side stories that mostly lead nowhere, including one that involves a homosexual Luxembourgish Prince and another with a beached whale.
Despite the unfocused nature, there are, of course, episodes that stand stronger than others, that excel largely due to their commitment to the series’ more comedic elements. ‘Maxine Bags a Prince’ is definitely the most thrilling of the series, with each character farcically running amok amidst a funeral, whilst a hippy delivers a baby in the master bathroom. Moments like these make you wonder what the series could have been if it had truly committed to a few of the many ideas it throws around.
In considering Palm Royale’s flaws in the setting of modern television, its errors are symptomatic of a wider issue in TV; a middling focus spread amongst too many episodes. In better, more capable hands, Palm Royale could truly have been one of the biggest hits of the year, but with seemingly no point to make nor any narrative stakes, what should be escapism instead feels like work – something the residents of Palm Beach are strictly averse to.
Words by Ben Carpenter
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