'Palm Royale' review: Kristen Wiig leads this elegant series


I have not read Juliet McDaniel’s 2018 novel “Mr. and Mrs. American Pie,” which is nominally the basis of a new miniseries, “Palm Royale,” but it's clear from the publisher's synopsis that it's a completely different story, even though someone decided it could be made into fun, even television. bright. . As indeed it has been.

Set in 1969 in the painfully exclusive and unbearable community of Palm Beach, Florida, the series, which premieres Wednesday on Apple TV+, has received the star treatment, in terms of production and talent. Created by Abe Sylvia (“George & Tammy”), with its first four episodes directed by Tate Taylor (“The Help”), it stars Kristen Wiig, Laura Dern (who originally developed the property), Allison Janney, Ricky Martin, Leslie Bibb and Carol Burnett, with a supporting cast that also includes Julia Duffy (you loved her in “Newhart”), Mindy Cohn (ditto, “Facts of Life”), Dern’s father Bruce (screen royalty) and the great Paul Sand, 92 years old. , a frequent guest on Burnett's variety show half a century ago.

And congratulations to casting directors Kerry Barden and Paul Schnee, as well as production designer Jon Carlos and costume designer Alix Friedberg, who deserve a top mention. They have created a world that is both extravagant and stylistically sharp, surrounding characters that are themselves exaggerated but, for the most part, this side of the grotesque.

Maxine Dellacorte Simmons (Kristen Wiig), left, with her husband Douglas Dellacorte Simmons (Josh Lucas) in episode 1 of “Palm Royale.”

(Apple TV+)

Wiig plays Maxine Dellacorte Simmons, wife of airline pilot Douglas Dellacorte Simmons (Josh Lucas), who would prefer to be known as Maxine Dellacorte, a name that carries weight in Palm Beach. (Doug's aunt Norma, played by Burnett, a plastics and mouthwash heiress, ruled the town until a stroke left her in a coma; now there's a power vacuum.) Maxine, who believes in love and beauty, grew up an orphan in Tennessee. , where she somehow became a regular reader of the Palm Beach Daily News, nicknamed the Shiny Sheet (the newspaper and the nickname are real), whose society pages formed her idea of ​​glamor and what it would mean to be “someone.” . The series worries about her attempts to make that happen.

Palm Royale is the beach club that embodies your dream; Maxine literally scales its walls. There she encounters a quartet whose names she knows as well as her own: Evelyn Rollins (Janney), “the self-proclaimed queen bee,” as described in Maxine's introductory narration; Dinah Donahue (Bibb), “the ambassador's wife…ready to dethrone Mrs. Evelyn if her libido did not overcome her”; Mary Jones Davidsoul (Duffy), “the widow, who was as giddy as a glass of champagne”; and Raquel Kimberly-Maco (Claudia Ferri), “the sugar heiress with $30 million to spare and a mafia husband.”

“You are my family,” he tells them. They consider her a nuisance intruder, and Robert (Martin), the club's bartender, who also lives in Norma's pool house, quickly removes her from the premises. But that's just where the story begins.

Maxine has better inserted herself into Norma's life, or at least into the room she occupies in a five-star nursing home, since Norma cannot protest. “You're too good to me, Norma,” says Maxine, who borrows her clothes and more. “I'm going to make you very proud.” That he expects that, as Norma's only living relative, Doug will inherit his millions isn't particularly great; she has appointed herself her caretaker, even as she waits for Norma to pass away.

A woman with red hair and a floral top looks over her sunglasses.

Evelyn Rollins, played by Allison Janney, is “the self-proclaimed queen bee,” according to Kristen Wiig's Maxine.

(Apple TV+)

Instead, we have Linda, played by Dern (long, straight hair, under a floppy fedora), who approaches Maxine outside a nail salon in uptown West Palm Beach to talk about “raising the collective consciousness of global brotherhood.” With Virginia (Amber Chardae Robinson), she leads a women's group at a feminist bookstore, Our Bodies Our Shelves. There are political threads throughout the series (we see Nixon on TV from time to time, talking about Vietnam or the anti-war protests there), but they're there more to liven up the farce than as substantial social commentary.

Social climbing is the theme of a lot of literature, movies and films based on literature: “Vanity Fair,” “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes,” “The Talented Mr. Ripley” (which is getting its own miniseries adaptation next month). , “Six Degrees.” of separation”, “What makes Sammy run”, “How to succeed in business without really trying”, “Space at the top”, he continues. In some cases, climbers triumph; in others, they are rejected.

All but the most privileged will understand that Maxine's dreams are misplaced, that she does not fundamentally understand what constitutes a good life. In fact, none of the women she envies are truly happy; The pursuit of wealth in this narrative is toxic. And yet, Maxine is a good person, whose plans and transgressions one does not quite forgive, but she makes allowances for hopeful future corrections. She lies to herself, but she's not a good liar either; she is conscious and unaware. (“Silly goose,” says Diana. “So wise in some things, so naive in others.”)

The search for his dreams will create complications, like Lucy Ricardo trying to break into the world of entertainment. And although Maxine will be blamed for things that are not really her fault, in the sense that her presence destabilizes a rigidly defined world: a society bound by fear, where everyone has secrets, the revelation of which could be liberating in the short term, but destructive in the long term, in a way they are. “There is a fine line between the crazy and the dreamer,” Maxine will observe, from the perspective of that line.

Burnett, 90, spends the first few episodes in a coma, but you don't hire Carol Burnett just to keep her body in a bed, and she will emerge in stages, eyes first, as a formidable character and the recipient of some of the funniest moments of the series. However, “Palm Royale” is above all Wiig's show, and she is fantastic and genuine, alive in the role moment to moment. It is a complex, funny, painful and endearing performance, full of hope and fear, shamelessness and sadness; Wiig makes it impossible not to feel sorry for Maxine, determined, in a great phrase, to “maintain a stance of relentless positivity”; We support her happiness more than her success.

A woman in a feather robe sitting at a desk.

Carol Burnett spends the first few episodes of “Palm Royale” in a coma, but wakes up and delivers some of the funniest moments of the series.

(Apple TV+)

But even characters who in a lesser piece would be frozen into caricatures are given a certain depth and fluidity, which helps sustain the series over 10 episodes. (The evolution of Maxine's relationship with Robert is especially important.)

Now, as for the ending. No spoilers here, but you may not want to read this paragraph until you've seen it for yourself. Let me say that I loved this series almost in its entirety, even when later episodes became more blatantly absurd and perfectly impossible things happened. As the story nears the end, with so many characters backed into a corner and new crises emerging, one wonders if there isn't some additional episode hidden out of sight. (It may be helpful to jot down, and I mean take note, so you remember, some advance narration at the beginning and end of the first episode.)

A climactic performance of a custom version of Peggy Lee's hit “Is That All There Is?” It echoes a key question of the series, although its text is interpreted differently by different characters. But it's also a question that may arise in the viewer's mind as the series winds down.

The ending is not arbitrary; It has a thematic and clockwork logic, and is somewhat reminiscent of films from the time in which the series takes place. It's not about “everyone gets hit by a truck.” However, as a fulfillment of what had happened before, I found it unsatisfactory, out of tune and somewhat unfair. Life is not fair, but fiction owes us something more.

Your mileage may vary and I wouldn't scare you; There is simply so much to admire and enjoy along the way. But I had to say something, you know, as a professional. Happy to hear your thoughts.

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