Vinyl HBO

Vinyl: HBO's '70s Drama Rocks Hard (Though Its Soul Is a Work in Progress)

TV Review Grade B+You won’t find it on the show’s IMDb page, but cocaine plays such a major role in HBO’s new ’70s drama Vinyl (premiering Feb. 14 at 9/8c) that its name ought to be wedged into the credits somewhere between Ray Romano and Olivia Wilde.

From the moment we meet Bobby Cannavale‘s Richie Finestra — the spiraling owner of the spiraling American Century record label — he’s got Peruvian dancing dust on the brain, and soon after, up his nose.

e798ff5de306e7b886af98ed3793bbb9b2766f6483ae0ae9ea0989518651ff63Richie is a man haunted by a horrible secret, gutted by the decision to sell his label to a German conglomerate and anxious about the future of his marriage to Wilde’s glamorous Dev, a former Warhol muse who’s grappling with chronic suburban ennui. But the spectacularly cinematic, beautifully bizarre final scene of the two-hour pilot episode — directed by Martin Scorsese — brings with it an epiphany for Richie that reverberates through the subsequent four episodes HBO made available to critics.

Fueled by line after line after line of blow, Richie makes a spectacular gamble — tanking the Polygram deal and betting that his combination of instinct, hustle and brutal ambition can revive the American Century imprint both artistically and commercially, even if it’s not guaranteed to save his soul.

Making Richie the sun around which all the action orbits is Vinyl‘s own spectacular gamble: He’s a selfish business partner, an absentee dad, a maniacal boss and an appalling spouse. (This last fact is solidified in Episode 5, when Richie cajoles Dev into doing his dubious bidding, then monstrously turns on her when he finds himself uncomfortable with the results.)

Richie’s saving grace is his keen ear and undying passion for music. And what Vinyl — not to mention Cannavale’s breathtaking performance — manages to do is bring that unlikely love story into stark relief.

64f40ae0b9c6845f6e4a556b0594ccc3062e6267f962afbae536d21651dedf3cThe pilot finds Richie stumbling into a New York Dolls concert at the Mercer Arts Center — and as he gets hypnotized by the raging guitars and androgynous electricity of their “Personality Crisis,” the suddenly slo-mo scene transports you right through the TV screen into the writhing, leaping pit filled with after-hours freaks.

Later, when Richie reminisces about hearing his first act Lester Grimes (Elementary‘s Ato Essandoh) shredding on a blues guitar, Scorsese isolates the sound so it becomes divine illumination, spurring Richie’s quick and dirty ascendancy from humble bartender to music mogul.

When a killer chorus or an energetic lick worms its way into Richie’s heart, Cannavale’s face — which over the course of the series can be threatening, sleazy, cruel, insecure, high as Everest — noticeably softens with boyish wonder. And it’s this purity of purpose that makes it believable when Dev can’t quite pull the trigger on filing for divorce, when Richie’s partners Zak (a wonderfully wry Romano) and Skip (Hemlock Grove‘s J.C. MacKenzie) keep showing up for work, when his artists (sometimes) re-up their contracts even when they know they’re probably getting screwed in the process.

Vinyl also succeeds by providing more than a mere snapshot of the New York City music scene in 1973 — with its collision of punk and funk and rock and disco — but in doing so makes you more than a little crestfallen that you can’t hop in a Tardis and travel back to a simpler (albeit more crooked) place and time.

That authentic smell of cigarette smoke and the feel of beer-sticky floors is aided by the way Vinyl weaves its fictional characters with real-life characterizations and real-life events — in-their-prime versions of Robert Plant, Alice Cooper, even Robert Goulet crop up in the first five episodes — which isn’t surprising since the story springs from the minds of Mick Jagger and Rolling Stone writer Rich Cohen, along with Scorsese and Terence Winter (Boardwalk Empire, The Wolf of Wall Street).

Courtesy of HBOWhere Vinyl is somewhat less sure of itself is in its treatment of characters not named Richie Finestra. (Well, that and its peculiar avoidance over its first five episodes of showcasing a single female recording artist – in an era where Aretha, Diana, Janis, Joni and many more sold a boatload of records.)

Wilde has the ability to make Dev deeply sympathetic — she’s lovely and heartbreaking when her embarrassed character has to beg Warhol to sign a silkscreen he gifted her, so she can turn around and sell it — but all too often her motivations aren’t explored beyond “sitting around and wondering what Richie will do.” Similarly, Romano’s financially strapped Zak has a startling moment of desperation in his garage — but like Dev, it’s hard to imagine his trajectory without Richie.

Vinyl‘s best subplot involves American Century’s sandwich girl (and in-house drug procurer) Jamie (Maleficent‘s Juno Temple, in a star-making turn), who’s traded in the stability of a restaurant-supply business promised by her disapproving mother (Alias‘ Lena Olin) for the dream of making it as an A&R rep.

15d3a76d6fc372f8169a0e9a1e0d022d3de86da608d2f98f21cd9c1bf60d8d4eIt’s Jamie’s discovery of a raw and angry band called the Dirty Bitz and its heroin-shooting lead singer Kip (newcomer James Jagger, son of the Stones’ frontman) that underscores Vinyl‘s greatest joy: While the record biz of the 1970s was certainly dark and full of terrors — including a mutton-chopped Andrew Dice Clay, sitting in a sex club and spewing horrific bile as radio-station owner Buck Rogers — it still believed in a mix of stardust and street grime that, fueled by audacity and brought to the right temperature, could create rock superstars.

Vinyl‘s greatest challenge will be getting its strong ensemble out from Richie’s imposing shadow — though, to be fair, the introduction of The Following‘s Annie Parisse as a whip-smart P.R. exec not interested in revisiting her past with our protagonist is a big step in the right direction. Failing that, though, Vinyl still provides satisfaction — whether or not its protagonist ever gets his.

The TVLine Bottom Line: Vinyl may hit one or two questionable notes in its first five episodes, but fueled by a beautifully realized sense of place and Cannavale’s certain-to-be-Emmy-nominated performance, it’s definitely worth a spin.

Comments are monitored, so don’t go off topic, don’t frakkin’ curse and don’t bore us with how much your coworker’s sister-in-law makes per hour. Talk smart about TV!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

13 Comments
  1. Piers says:

    Finestra??? That means window! What kind of last name is that?

  2. Bring Jessica C back ASAP to save ratings and face, please

  3. jakis says:

    No women artists? Unforgivable. Carole King, Linda Ronstadt, Joni Mitchell, Judy Collins, Carly Simon, Aretha, Karen Carpenter, Stevie Nicks, Donna Summer, Dolly Parton, even CHER… How can no women fit into this fictional music industry of the 70s? Oh, wait. There are women. Nameless hookers, arm candy and women whose appearance is everything. But no singers, songwriters, musicians, managers, press agents, or anybody with a career.

    • Delirious says:

      Were they part of the NYC scene. or even the music scene they’re trying to portrait in the series? I rather have faithfulness to the story, than forced gender equality.

  4. jj says:

    I’m so intrigued by this show and it doesn’t hurt that I’m a big fan of bobby cannavale! Can’t wait for the premiere

  5. Jimfixx says:

    Oh, f*** off. The key components of seminal 70s punk, funk, and rock and roll had ZERO to do with women. Female artists simply were not in the forefront, whether you like to admit it or not. Janis was dead–Joni belonged to folk-rock, a bygone era by this point. Blondie had yet to happen. No need to invent a bogus criticism just to appear sensitive or thought-provoking.

    • Cassie says:

      Debbie Harry, Joan Jett, Patti Smith, Chaka Khan, The Pointer Sisters, Bonnie Tyler,
      Linda Ronstadt, Gladys Knight & the Pips, The Supremes, Donna Summer. These are just a few of the women who shaped 70’s punk, funk, and rock and roll.

  6. The Truth says:

    Just watched it. The show is horrible. Possibly the worst show HBO has ever produced. I mean it is truly terrible.

    • Dave says:

      I agree.Supporting characters look like they will be poorly developed.Especially his inner circle.The incompetent lawyer has the potential to be the most ridiculous character in the history of television.

  7. MzTeaze says:

    Interesting that there is no same night premiere post about the show. Sadly, it looks great but felt like a long form music video with lots of sex, drugs and rock n roll. The memory lane trip to the 70s was a lot of flash but really lacked substance.

  8. tallsy says:

    Slightly better than Ballers. What happened to HBO?

  9. Ron DiGregorio says:

    Bobby, no lie, most of this show is my past life. Had a rock band with plenty of potential that mad a lot of noise in philly from 1968 to 1971. But the crazy thing is we had one of our managers, we had 3, that reminds me so much of your character on the show. I could b one of the writers. Great Show, Great Acting by all, you guys nailed it

  10. Michele Totton says:

    I am a huge fan of Vinyl. Think Bobby Cannavale is outstanding and l Olivia Wilde has something that should be developed. Whole cast are great really but the show belongs to Cannavale!