OBNOXIOUSLY EVIL
In would-be satire ‘The Regime,’ a dictator mistreats her peasants, and not in a fun way
The six-part HBO political satire series “The Regime” comes fully stocked with unimpeachable credits on both sides of the camera. We have the magnificent Kate Winslet as the lead. Showrunner Will Tracy is a sharp and creative talent who cowrote “The Menu” and a number of episodes of “Succession.” Directing chores are split between the New Zealand filmmaker Jessica Hobbs (“The Crown”) and the reliable veteran Stephen Frears (“The Grifters,” “The Queen”).
Heck of a lineup, yes? Well then. Here’s your reminder even some of the most skilled artists in the business can get together and somehow deliver a work that is only intermittently clever and grows ever more irritating, obnoxious and condescending with each episode.
If “The Regime” is supposed to be a comedy, I can count the number of times I laughed on one finger. If it’s supposed to be a cutting-edge political satire, I would point in the direction of “Veep” or films such as “The Death of Stalin” or “The Great Dictator” as examples of far superior work.
Despite the first-class production design, the game efforts of the ensemble cast and some admirably big swings for the fences, “The Regime” isn’t one of those series where you to love to watch people who are terrible, a la the aforementioned “Succession” and “Veep,” or “The Sopranos” or “Breaking Bad.” In this case, we’re stuck with a group of mostly loathsome individuals who commit the cardinal sin of not being all that interesting while they’re being horrible.
Winslet, speaking out of the side of her mouth as if she’s doing some sort of Euro-Drew Barrymore-Alicia Silverstone thing, is Chancellor Elena Vernham, the neurotic and petulant and borderline crazy authoritarian ruler of an unnamed and fictional country in Central Europe. Elena is literally insulated from the masses, holed up in a former luxury hotel turned palace that is riddled with mold, where she delivers pompous and out-of-touch addresses to the distressed populace via live TV and constantly berates and belittles her cabinet, not to mention her callous treatment of her adoring and weak-willed French husband, Nicholas (Guillaume Gallienne).
For reasons not made entirely clear, the brutish Cpl. Herbert Zubak (Matthias Schoenaerts) is dragged into the palace and given the assignment of accompanying Elena everywhere she goes, armed with a device that measures the levels of mold in each room. (I guess he’s the giant canary in the coal mine.) The staffers immediately dub Zubak “The Butcher,” and with just reason, as Zubak was part of a military massacre of unarmed protesters at a cobalt mine. Gee, what a wacky and delightful back story for a co-lead character in a series that is primarily a comedy.
After Zubak thwarts an assassination attempt on Elena, she becomes convinced they are soulmates, and soon Zubak has become her closest confidante. He administers old-country folk medicine treatments to Elena, who is either sickly or a hypochondriac or perhaps a little bit of both, he advises her on domestic and foreign policy, and yes, he becomes romantically involved with her after hapless hubby Nicholas has shuffled off to Sweden.
“The Regime” stumbles in set piece after set piece, e.g., when a United States senator played by Martha Plimpton visits the palace and winds up running for her life after Zubak corners her. It’s not funny, and it makes no sense. Surely, the senator would return to America and tell the world the leader of Unnamed Fictional Country is a lunatic who has a psychopath as her right-hand man. As revolution stirs and rebel forces gain key footholds throughout the land, Elena seems more perturbed than anything else and absolutely unmoved about reports of major casualties. Whenever anything terrible happens to anyone else, Elena whines about how it’s an inconvenience to her. Also, she can’t believe these ungrateful peasants don’t recognize all the great things she has accomplished and can accomplish.
Nearly everyone in “The Regime” is a vile maniac or a buffoon. Arguably the most sympathetic character is dispensed with in such a cruel and arbitrary fashion it’s as if we’re being told: That’s what you get for caring about anyone in this story. As the rebels draw ever closer to Elena and company, we find ourselves rooting for them. I’m not sure it’s a great idea to create a series where we’re more sympathetic to the storm-the-gates extras with no speaking lines than practically every single major character holed up in the palace.