Étoile

The Rat/Disaster

Season 1

Episodes 5 – 6

Editor’s Rating

3 stars

***

The lonely nature of revitalizing the companies and pursuing perfection is beginning to weigh on everyone.
Photo: Philippe Antonello/Prime Video

The performing arts can be a lonely career path. To succeed in an extremely competitive workplace, performers devote extra personal time to hone their bodies and their craft and, in many cases, take on extra work to supplement their income and grow their professional brand. To succeed in a struggling industry, performing-arts administrators devote extra personal time to cultivating relationships that could be beneficial to their organizations, whether that’s schmoozing donors to secure contributions or showing up at events to be an active part of the community.

Étoile is full of lonely people whose commitment to the performing arts makes it difficult to connect with others. Jack is so tied to his work that he doesn’t have any friends beyond people who need something from him professionally. Cheyenne reveres her art form so much that she dismisses people who can’t rise to her extraordinary standards. Mishi has been pushed to focus on dance for her entire young life, missing out on valuable social experiences with other people her age. Tobias’s obsession with his choreography alienates him from pretty much everyone around him, and if you can’t help him achieve his vision exactly how he wants it, you mean nothing. These two episodes explore that loneliness and how it affects the few meaningful relationships these characters do have.

“The Rat” kicks off Nutcracker season at MBT, a hectic time made all the more stressful by Jack turning 45, the age when men in his family die (except Uncle John, who survived a boogie-board accident at 45 but was clinically dead for two minutes). The episode continues the show’s advocacy for a larger ballet. It starts with Jack and Geneviève introducing a Film Forum double feature of Frederick Wiseman’s Ballet and La Danse, two documentaries detailing the day-to-day operations of American Ballet Theatre and Paris Opera Ballet, respectively. These are essential viewing for ballet fans, offering incredible access to these world-class institutions to reveal the many moving parts working together to bring stunning art to the stage.

While watching the movies, Jack and Geneviève are inspired and reminded of what all of their work is for, but they are so close to the situations onscreen that they eventually start treating the movie theater like an extension of their offices, whisper-arguing about Tobias showing up in New York City when he was supposed to be in Paris. This turns out to be foreplay, and Geneviève asks Jack if he wants a ride back home, which he immediately recognizes as a sex invite. It’s a big jump for their relationship that comes out of nowhere, but it makes sense, given the ways they’ve become entangled through their shared Shamblee suffering.

Jack shows his vulnerability and his naked butt when he’s with Geneviève, and she opens up about her mounting anxiety about the security of her job. Luke Kirby and Charlotte Gainsbourg have very cozy chemistry in their bedroom scene, and you can feel the years of their relationship in the familiar way they put on face cream together while watching Below Deck. It’s a moment of relief at the start of an otherwise tense episode for Jack, in which the ever-present drama of his work collides with the once-in-a-lifetime terror of turning 45.

There’s a genuine sadness that washes over Kirby’s performance as Jack ponders his potential death while realizing how alone he still is in life, and that despair is at its highest point when Jack’s teenage sons send him a happy birthday message devoid of compassion. Jack tries to put on a happy face for the crowd, but you can feel his spirit shrinking and his heart breaking. The blows keep coming as his mother rationalizes why she was absent during his childhood. When he tries to take his relationship with Geneviève to the next level, she shuts him down for valid reasons: They live too far apart, see each other too infrequently, and are usually in other relationships.

Jack’s closest connections are the people he works with, which is why he’s so reluctant to let go of MBT’s artistic director, Nicholas Leutwylek (David Haig), who is eager to retire. Nicholas has primarily been comic relief for the first half of this season, reminiscing about the olden days of sex and drugs in the workplace while his health gets progressively worse. He plays a more significant role in “The Disaster,” and Haig imbues the character with melancholy as he confronts his mortality and longs for the vitality of his youth. The writing is on the wall that Nicholas’s days at MBT are limited, and no matter how much praise Jack showers on him, he can’t stop nature. The episode ends with Nicholas collapsing in front of Lincoln Center, potentially dying steps away from where he built his legacy.

That legacy will live on in the dancing, and Cheyenne will lead the charge. Despite giving the impression that she’s dreading The Nutcracker, she is completely enamored with the ballet. When the other dancers complain about the music and the choreography, Cheyenne calls them traitors who don’t respect the work’s beauty and legacy. She makes this another ideological crusade, and if the other dancers don’t want to dance Sugar Plum Fairy, Cheyenne will do it for all of the 57 performances. Everyone thinks that she’s crazy, especially Gael, who is expected to dance all of those performances with her. The prospect is so terrible for him that he goes to Jack for help getting out of it, a request refused as revenge for the couch sex.

SuSu watches Cheyenne and absorbs her commitment to excellence. After hearing Cheyenne tell a story about demanding a second performance of a piece because she didn’t dance to her standards, SuSu demands a second audition for The Nutcracker’sClara when she isn’t happy with her first. She gets the redo, but Nicholas tells her that this company works together as a team and you don’t storm into another dancer’s audition. Cheyenne’s lessons may be unorthodox, but they get results, and in “The Disaster,” she takes over teaching SuSu’s entire class, driving the previous teacher to quit by calling her inadequate.

While very funny, much of Lou De Laâge’s depiction of Cheyenne has been fueled by self-righteous fury, so it’s refreshing to see her be more playful in these episodes. I am specifically referring to her hilarious dolphin impression when Jack asks her to show up to his birthday party to mingle with the most important guests, clicking her tongue with her hands pressed together above her head like a fin. She’s settling into New York City and letting herself have fun, but the danger of experiencing joy is the risk of losing it.

Crispin doesn’t appear very much in these two episodes, but when he does, Simon Callow shows completely different sides of the character. He makes a surprise appearance at Jack’s birthday party, looking a total mess because he just escaped from being “taken.” Kidnappings are a regular occurrence that are sorted out by Crispin’s ransom insurance company (“the real criminals”), and Callow’s breezy disposition sells the absurd comedic premise. That cheer disappears in “The Disaster,” replaced by humiliation when Cheyenne kicks him out of company class, and malice when he gets back at her for her curtain speech.

Crispin hits new lows when he threatens to use Cheyenne’s sexual history as blackmail if she doesn’t start treating him with respect. We get confirmation that Jack and Cheyenne did have a sexual relationship five years ago, and his is the name that really puts her on edge. Crispin hints at Gael’s own sordid past, and Cheyenne spends the rest of the episode spiraling over the status of their relationship when she sees Gael flirting with another dancer later. Crispin advises her not to shit where she eats, and it’s sage advice, given how Cheyenne reacts to the hint of impropriety. She only creates bigger problems when she confides in Jack, and Jack explodes at Gael, telling him, “If you fuck this up, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Mishi and Bruna’s relationship is one of my favorites in recent TV memory. They are an odd couple of roommates who end up satisfying some profound needs for each other. Mishi needs independence, and Bruna needs something new to fix, and a person is a much more fulfilling project than a toaster. Life at Bruna’s is definitely better off of the floor mattress, and Mishi is still living comfortably — when she can get into the apartment. Bruna refuses to give Mishi her own key because they have one in the plant, and if that key is gone, that means Bruna has a man over and Mishi needs to sleep in the hallway. Bruna brushes off Mishi’s frustrations because she feeds her, makes coffee, and doesn’t sell her dog, but when Mishi says that she wants to relate to the person she lives with, Bruna quickly gives her an opportunity.

They spend the day going through Bruna’s routine, a charming stroll through the streets of Paris. Bruna gives Mishi a view of the city she’s never had before, introducing her to a parade of strangers with the refrain of “this is the girl.” They stop at a café, gas station, and butcher, and end at the river, where Bruna fishes while Mishi finds a new love interest in a cute young “this is the boy.” Mishi is only now seeing more of the city she grew up in, so it’s not that surprising that she didn’t spend much time exploring New York City when she was there. When she meets up with the fisherboy and some of his friends, Mishi realizes how much precedence dance took over experiencing NYC culture. Living with Bruna is Mishi’s chance to expand her horizons, and while she calls herself a “boring old woman” like it’s a bad thing, taking cues from Bruna brings a different kind of excitement to Mishi’s life. She ends up getting a key, solidifying their friendship.

Tobias and Gabin’s budding romance falls on the other side of the likability spectrum, a collision of two obnoxiously self-absorbed personalities. Gabin returns from his suspension and is still a giant stick in the mud in rehearsal, sulking in the background when he should be grateful he has a job. Tobias is completely detached from the rest of the world, to the point where he’s on a Zoom call with David Byrne without any knowledge of who he is. His appreciation for Gabin is transactional; Tobias likes Gabin when he’s successfully executing his choreography or killing the rat in his apartment.

Meanwhile, Gabin is infatuated with Tobias. When Tobias’s first piece for LBN is booed by audiences and panned by critics, Gabin takes it as a personal attack that ruins the first big thing they do together as a not-couple. He wants to throw a rock through a critic’s window, an overreaction that speaks to just how immature Gabin is as an artist and clueless he is as a partner. Tobias is shattered by the negative response, but Gabin’s aggression doesn’t do anything to pull Tobias together.

Geneviève is the one who does that, coming to Tobias’s apartment and giving him a pep talk that emphasizes the importance of compromise and patience. Professional dance is a business, and sometimes you’ll be asked to do something you hate. There’s no way around that, and you often have to make those compromises to build trust with an audience and guide them where you want them. Geneviève thought his piece was brilliant and knows that the audience needs to learn that, but that will only happen if Tobias gains a thicker skin and doesn’t let criticism stand in the way of creation.