Naomi Watts partly redeems murky mystery
Gypsy can’t decide what kind of show it wants to be.
The new Netflix series is a psychological thriller starring Naomi Watts as Jean Holloway, a successful Manhattan therapist who inserts herself into the lives of her patients’ friends and family. It’s part mystery, part soapy drama, but it’s so slow that it’s hard to get engaged. And without Watts as a grounding force, it wouldn’t come together at all.
Gypsy’s conceit is rather odd, and takes a long time to unravel over the course of 10 meandering episodes, especially because it’s cagey about revealing exactly what Jean is doing and why. When we first meet her, she’s pretending to be someone else when she visits the coffee shop where Sidney (Sophie Cookson), the ex-girlfriend of one of her patients, works. The patient is obsessed with Sidney, and Jean quickly develops her own infatuation with the young barista, wearing the same perfume and posing as a journalist to get close to her. Meanwhile, she gets her hair done at the same salon as another patient’s daughter, while making it home in time to make frozen pizza for her seemingly unsuspecting young daughter (Maren Heary) and husband Michael (Billy Crudup).
When the show, created by newcomer Lisa Rubin, succeeds, it’s due to Watts’ performance and appeal. Even when it slows to a crawl, her presence is enough to keep moving it forward, as the camera often focuses closely on her expressive face. Watts plays Jean as a woman who’s completely in control of her secrets but one bad day away from a complete breakdown. It’s easy to see how she can be both a trusted therapist and manipulative chameleon.
The season’s first two episodes are directed by Sam Taylor-Johnson (Fifty Shades of Grey), and are instantly reminiscent of the almost clinically staged film, making Jean’s escapades feel bloodless and boring.
Crudup and Cookson do their best with underwritten supporting roles. Michael is given little to do but comment on his wife’s drinking and his attractive assistant’s responsibilities, and Sidney borders on a millennial parody with her hipster esthetic and carefree Brooklyn lifestyle.
Gypsy creates mysteries that are meant to be exciting and alluring: Who is Jean? Why does she pretend to be someone else? Will her family and friends find out?
The problem is that the show doesn’t make the people around her — or her relationships with them — interesting or vital enough to matter.
The best moments come when the show eases up on the tension it tries so hard to create and lets the performances take over, as when Jean and Sidney dance at a nightclub, or Jean practises a lie in front of a mirror.
If only the rest of the show was as thrilling.