I’ll go out on a limb and say that nearly everyone knows Hollywood has undergone a radical transformation. An endless churn of streaming platforms and an insatiable appetite for bankable IP films have fueled a dramatic shift. Whether you see this as progress or a creative apocalypse is up to you. For Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg, it’s pure comedy gold.
Suppose you’re the kind of cinephile who laments the industry’s obsession with reboots, franchises, and cinematic universes while pining for the golden days of uncompromised artistry. In that case, The Studio delivers precisely what you need.
Its humor cuts through Hollywood’s absurdities with a razor-sharp satirical edge, balancing hilarity with insight. Apple TV+ has scored another triumph with this show, following in the footsteps of Severance, and it spares no corner of the entertainment industry from its sharp wit.
The series follows a ragtag team of Hollywood executives as they navigate the chaotic world of big-budget filmmaking. At its core, Matt Remick (Seth Rogen), a self-proclaimed cinephile, unexpectedly takes the reins as head of Continental Studios after Amy (Catherine O’Hara) gets abruptly fired. His grand vision? To restore the prestige of filmmaking with Oscar-caliber projects. However, his ambitions immediately clash with the reality of studio politics when CEO Griffin Mill (Bryan Cranston) insists on developing a Kool-Aid movie. His mantra? “We make movies—not films.”
In one of the show’s most absurd yet brilliant sequences, Remick meets with none other than Martin Scorsese (playing himself) to develop a “cinematic version of Kool-Aid.” Scorsese pitches a $200 million drama about the Jonestown massacre, drawing a hilariously tenuous link between the infamous tragedy and the beverage. Recognizing the ridiculousness of it all, Remick agrees to greenlight the project under one condition—the title must remain Kool-Aid.
From there, The Studio shifts into high gear, unleashing the unhinged antics of its ensemble cast. Ike Barinholtz’s opportunistic Sal Seperstein and Chase Sui Wonders’ ambitious rising exec Quinn engage in one of the season’s most delightfully petty feuds, embodying the cutthroat absurdity of studio politics. Meanwhile, Kathryn Hahn’s Maya delivers some of the show’s funniest moments, proving once again that she can steal any scene.
One of The Studio’s most genius strokes lies in its use of A-list cameos, grounding its satire in a reality that feels hilariously familiar. A standout sequence follows the team attending a test screening of a fictional film directed by Ron Howard. They spiral into turmoil when the film reaches its penultimate moment—the infamous “Motel Sequence.”
Deeply personal to Howard, the scene horrifies test audiences and frustrates the film’s star, Anthony Mackie. The ensuing chaos, as the executives scramble to convince Remick to deliver a note suggesting its removal, results in pure comedic gold.
What makes The Studio exceptional is its ability to skewer Hollywood’s narcissism while maintaining an evident affection for the art of filmmaking. Rogen and Goldberg aren’t just making fun of the industry—they’re mourning what it has become while still reveling in its madness. It’s a love letter wrapped in a roast, and everyone is in on the joke.
No showbiz satire in recent years has hit this sharply, and The Studio stands out as one of the most refreshing comedies in recent memory. With its blend of industry in-jokes, larger-than-life characters, and biting commentary, it’s a must-watch for anyone who loves movies—or at least loves making fun of the people who make them.
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