If over the past year you’ve
caught yourself lamenting the departure of Don Draper and Nucky Thompson from our
small screens, then you’re in luck. On paper, Vinyl reads like Mad Men
meets Boardwalk Empire. It has New
York City, it has gangsters, it has a deeply flawed alpha male protagonist
coming to terms with his personal demons… throw in the bombastic music industry
of the 1970s as a setting, and you’ve got yourself a killer soundtrack to go
with this funky venture.
Then why does the series fail to strike a chord? The main issue here
is not so much that we’re faced with a bad show – there are at least two gems
that stand out in this ten episode season – but one that feels less than the
sum of its parts. With Boardwalk’s
Terence Winter on showrunner duties and pop culture icons Mick Jagger and Martin
Scorsese producing, you’d expect Vinyl
to be an instant classic. Instead, you’ve got a show that looks the part, but
is erratic, unfocused and with no sense of direction (a bit like a coked up
rock star, then).
It must also be said that,
despite the rampant themes of sexism and gender inequality, Mad Men did a fine job at fleshing out
its female characters from episode 1. In Vinyl,
the women are underdeveloped and strictly on eye candy duties, the equivalent of
a scantily-clad babe on a rock album’s front cover.
Thank goodness for Bobby
Cannavale then, whose central performance as record executive Richie Finestra
just about manages to hold the season together. He’s no imposing mob boss or
suave womanising ad man, just a schmuck who makes one spectacularly bad
decision after another, but whose unwavering love for music keeps us invested
in his trials and tribulations. Hopefully the show, just like Richie, will be
able to find itself in a second season.
3/5
