‘You’re toxic!’ Can TV shows survive when their star becomes a scandal?
In 2018, HBO breathlessly announced a brand-new drama from one of television’s most celebrated auteurs. The network was, it said, “honoured” to be providing a home for The Nevers, Joss Whedon’s long-awaited return to the small screen. A complex Victorian-era fantasy led by tormented female protagonists with supernatural powers, it had the Buffy the Vampire Slayer creator’s fingerprints all over it. Whedon would be writer, director and executive producer, and described his “odd, intimate epic” as “the most ambitious narrative” he had ever created.
Then, in November the same year, Whedon abruptly abandoned his passion project. He attributed his exit to tiredness (“I am genuinely exhausted, and am stepping back to marshal my energy towards my own life”). In a statement, HBO said: “We have parted ways with Joss Whedon. We remain excited about the future of The Nevers and look forward to its premiere.” But behind the scenes, a reputation-destroying storm appeared to be brewing. In July last year, the actor Ray Fisher claimed Whedon had been abusive while directing the blockbuster Justice League.
Then he was accused of being “casually cruel” and perpetuating a “toxic” atmosphere on the Buffy set by the actors Charisma Carpenter and Amber Benson. Michelle Trachtenberg, who was 14 when she was cast as Buffy’s younger sister, claimed that Whedon was not allowed to be in a room alone with her. (In February, HBO’s chief content officer Casey Bloys said that the company had received “no complaints or no reports of inappropriate behaviour” against Whedon. Representatives for Whedon did not immediately respond when approached for comment for this piece.)
Now, perhaps, Whedon’s departure looks less like a willing retreat and more like a pre-emptive strike. Regardless, HBO is no doubt keen to salvage The
Nevers, a big-budget production the first six episodes of which are due to air in the UK this month. But, whether allegations are true or not, can a show survive such a high-profile cancellation?
Sadly, The Nevers is far from being alone in this predicament. Last month, after the Guardian published allegations of verbal abuse, bullying and sexual harassment against Noel Clarke, Sky suspended production on Bulletproof, the police thriller he co-created and in which he stars (through his lawyers, Clarke categorically denied the allegations). Whether the show will continue without him is unclear – but it’s not impossible. In fact, Bulletproof and The Nevers could still have bright futures if they learn a thing or two from shows that have thrived – and others that have floundered – in the face of scandal.
The first lesson: quickly disown your cancelled star. In 2017, when Jeffrey Tambor was accused of sexual harassment by his assistant and a cast member on Transparent (allegations that Tambor denies, although he has since apologised if his actions were “mistaken”), the show’s producers immediately killed off Tambor’s protagonist, Maura – a routine response. But it then proceeded to turn the fifth series into a meta-musical drama about grief (a not-so-routine response). It was a kooky and assertive way of wresting back control of the show’s narrative, literally and figuratively.
Meanwhile, Arrested Development – the other show that provided Tambor with later-life stardom – carried on: its fifth season, with Tambor playing the dodgy patriarch, George Bluth, was already in the can. Not only did the show not distance itself from Tambor, but other cast members defended his onset behaviour, which he admitted included shouting at his on-screen wife, the late Jessica Walter.
During an ensemble cast interview with the New York Times in 2018, costar Jason Bateman initially said he would not return to the show if Tambor was fired (he later apologised for his words and said he wasn’t “excusing” the actor). As a whole, Arrested Development’s response to Tambor’s actions seemed tone-deaf – and the muchloved sitcom bowed out under a cloud of media consternation.
If the makers of Arrested Development were concerned about the optics of mercilessly dropping Tambor, they shouldn’t have been. Dealing decisively with the issue despite personal loyalties to the sullied celebrity appears to be the way forward. Pamela Adlon had a long friendship with Louis CK – appearing in 14 episodes of his series Louie – before he co-wrote the first two seasons of her comedy Better Things. When the comic admitted to several allegations of sexual misconduct, saying he had “wielded power irresponsibly” in 2017, it could all easily have spelled disaster for the series. It was an emotionally nuanced show about female bonding, and an obvious association with Louis CK’s behaviour towards women would have undermined its credibility. Adlon took swift action, denouncing Louis CK and immediately parting ways with their shared management. Her show escaped unscathed.
Better Things is characterised by a deeply personal vision. Luckily, that vision didn’t belong to its cancelled cowriter. Yet even when a scandal hits the core of a project – as with The Nevers – all is not necessarily lost. In 2018, Roseanne Barr’s sitcom Roseanne was rebooted – so successfully that it was recommissioned days after it debuted. Mere weeks later, however, the whole thing had been pulled from the schedules after Barr published a racist tweet (Barr later apologised). The network, keen to keep up momentum, speedily repurposed the show into a Roseanneless Roseanne spin-off called The Conners, which followed the sitcom family minus its protagonist, who had been killed off by an opioid overdose.
The Roseanne debacle proves that any role is expendable. The Charlie Sheen and Jon Cryer sitcom Two and a Half Men was one of the biggest comedies in the US when Sheen’s private life began making unsavoury headlines in 2010. It appears the final straw came when the actor began publicly criticising the show’s creator, Chuck Lorre. Sheen seemed irreplaceable – at that point, he was the highest-paid actor on TV – but after he was removed, a new character, played by Ashton Kutcher, stepped into his shoes. The result? A boost in ratings and an increase in award nods.
Two and a Half Men is an exceptional case in one important sense: early cancellations are the best kind of cancellations. Most shows flounder if the scandal happens towards the end of their run. By season five, Jussie Smollett’s Jamal was the focal point of the music biz drama Empire. After the actor was charged with faking a homophobic attack (allegations that are denied by Smollett, with a trial still due to take place), his character was awkwardly written out. The show’s final season suffered: Jamal’s sudden disappearance was unconvincing, and viewership almost halved.
At the other end of the spectrum is The Thick of It, and one of the most disturbing examples of an actor’s life derailing a series. The show was building a reputation as one of the sharpest political comedies in decades when its lead, Chris Langham, was arrested for possessing child pornography (incredibly, he still went on to win the Bafta for best comedy performance the following year).
Despite such appalling associations, the show went from strength to strength: Rebecca Front replaced Langham, who was jailed, and by the time it concluded in 2012, The Thick of It was one of the decade’s most beloved sitcoms and had spawned a spin-off film. The fact that it was forced to change tack before many people saw it undoubtedly worked in its favour: Langham’s episodes were made for BBC Four; subsequent series aired on BBC Two. It is still haunted by its past – search for the show on Twitter and you will be greeted by a series of shocked twentysomethings learning about Langham’s crimes – but, overall, it thrived.
The Thick of It’s predicament was not ambiguous, but occasionally stars are left marooned somewhere on the spectrum between precious talent and toxic problem.
Aziz Ansari found himself there in January 2018 after a womanusing a pseudonym told Babe.net she felt “violated” after a sexual encounter with him. The allegations didn’t stop Netflix expressing enthusiasm about the prospect of a third series of his dramedy Master of None that July.For his part, Ansari responded to the claims at the time by saying he felt the encounter was “by all indications completely consensual”, but that he “took her words to heart”. While he denied any wrongdoing, he did say in a comeback standup show that he had felt “scared … humiliated, there’s times I felt embarrassed, and ultimately I just felt terrible that this person felt this way”.
The charm of Ansari’s emotionally switched-on beta-male persona (he had even written a book on dating) had certainly taken a hit. When Master of None’s third season was finally announced last month, Ansari was absent from the screen. Instead, the spotlight was on Lena Waithe’s recurring character, Denise, while Ansari was to focus onwriting and directing duties. It seems a wise move: Ansari retains creative control while allowing viewers to put his somewhat dented reputation out of their minds.
Sometimes, however, a star seems to exercise their influence over a show in a manner that’s altogether nonconsensual. After Kevin Spacey was accused by a number of men of sexual abuse in 2017, allegations he wholly denies,the final season of House of Cards was rewritten to kill off the protagonist, Frank Underwood.
He was missed: critics were underwhelmed, and viewing figures tanked. Not content with the show’s swift demise, Spacey continued to wrestle for ownership of his character – and a slice of the show’s popularity – by releasing a bizarre YouTube monologue in character as Underwood in 2018, in which he repudiated the allegations against him. Evidence, perhaps, that even if a show cuts ties with a star, it may not be the end of the story.With all that in mind, how is The Nevers likely to fare? The real test will be the content of the show itself: in many of the programmes that have succeeded, their quality has essentially drowned out the cancellation clamour. Unfortunately, early reports describe it as messy, unpleasantly busy and dizzying in scope. For all the crisis mitigation, The Nevers may well end up cancel culture’s latest casualty.