The arrival of The franchise to HBO (or rather to Max, the platform where we can see it in Spain) has been very timely as it coincides with the absolute debacle at the box office of Joker: Folie à Deux that, consequently, has dusted off new articles on the exhaustion of superhero cinema that Deadpool and Wolverine had put on pause until the next disasters that are predicted for MarvelStudios.
This cycle of triumphs and failures, both situations always overstated by the media, which is well recognizable by those of us who have already more than 15 years following the ins and outs of Hollywood and immersed in the coverage of current cinematographic news. During this period, the death of superhero cinema has been predicted so many times and its absolute domination has been lauded that one more does not matter, but makes each of the blows he hits more fun The franchise.
The series is a ruthless evisceration of the film industry as we know it today. That is to say, dedicated to the desperate adaptation of superhero comics or any fantasy IP with the potential to be squeezed into sequels, spin-offs and infinite derivations that stir up infantilized imaginaries and milk the pockets of an audience fleeing from the saturation of stimuli. The Hollywood of the franchises that we suffer every day.
The franchise is created by Jon Brown, applied student of the school of hurtful dialogue by the Scot Armando Iannucci, responsible for two works from my personal comedy altar such as The Thick of It either veep who here serves as executive producer and godfather of the project, leaving his mark on a sarcastic humor that knows no mercy and shoots at point-blank range at all the human links in the assembly line of a superhero production in which hardly any of those involved believe.
Marvel or DC, same thing
Himesh Patel plays Dan, the hardworking assistant director who tries to keep the filming of Tecto, a kind of sci-fi adventure with echoes of Flash Gordon and thor which serves as a secondary title within a superhero saga called Maximum Cinematic Universe (yes, the same acronym as the MCU) where the flagship films are those of Centurions.
The names seem to have been designed to arouse as much ridicule as possible, because in The franchise everyone is vilified. The insecure director with artistic pretensions (Daniel Brühl), the mononeuronal protagonist (Billy Magnussen) worried about turning into a sheep because of the hormones he consumes, the illustrious actor who has fallen into disrepair (Richard E. Grant), the neurotic producer (Aya Cash, adding another great superheroic satire after his time in The Boys)…
If films about the world of cinema tend to show a inevitable affection towards the profession no matter how caustic they are painted (of Captives of evil -1952- a The American night -1973-), in the field of television there have been fewer qualms about Extras (2005-07), from Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant (who, since they are British, are especially heartless) or the subplot of Sarah Goldberg in the bright Barry (2018-23); Either of the two would make a good dance partner with The franchise.
Let’s kill, friends
But what it most reminds of, in reality, is the most sacrosanct parody of the world of cinema that exists in the field of Spanish literature: The super production (1984), the comic Superlopez where Jan ridiculed the filming of a Conan-style sword and sorcery movie, leaving behind indelible phrases like “Give me a cylinder, fotero” either “What is a script girl?” The script The franchise, By the way, it’s the brilliant one Jessica Hynes idol in this house since the time of Spaced.
Hynes’s role, between the director’s submission and idolatry, as well as the machine gun of veiled references to real industry events that are released in the caustic dialogues of each episode are aimed at delighting people who are very knowledgeable about the corporate magma without soul or any artistic aspiration that governs decision-making within Hollywood. Each of the moral miseries that govern this million-dollar business are dealt with throughout the series.
For example, in the third episode the appearance of Katherine Waterston in the role of a prestigious actress who has found herself trapped in a production of these characteristics (the examples that come to mind are innumerable, but Cate Blanchett either Tilda Swinton seem especially channeled) allows us to deal with both that lucrative humiliation and the hypocritical redesign of fiction to quell feminist complaints that comes across the usual violent and sexist reaction in networks.
As I said, what is the daily life of current cinematography from here to a part. I even think that he takes satire to a metatextual level, laughing at the pretenses of television production with that immersive sequence shot in Sam Mendes’ filming to open the first episode; the director of 1917, also producer of the series, marks a predictable visual path that no subsequent chapter picks up.
And it is good that it is so, because in The franchise as in Succession (another filigree of an Iannucci puppy, Jesse Armstrong where Jon Brown worked as a screenwriter) The expressive force is given by the violence with which one speaks and replies are made, to which the images can only follow behind. Personally, I can’t wait for an episode to see a group of journalists summoned to a junket to cover the filming. Although there are things so ridiculous in themselves that are impossible to parody.
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