NOW APOCALYPSE (Gregg Araki). Premiering Sunday (March 10) on Crave. Rating: NNN
The opening scene in Gregg Araki’s Now Apocalypse is perhaps the Gregg Araki-est opening scene you could possibly ever imagine.
“I’ve always had a simultaneous fear of and attraction toward the unknown,” tousle-haired Avan Jogia’s Ulysses says in an internal monologue as he creeps down a gel-lit alleyway and ominous synths tease a horrific reveal. “And in these dark and scary times it’s easy to adopt a what-difference-does-it-make attitude.”
The New Queer Cinema director became a cult figure in the 90s with films like The Doom Generation and Nowhere, which mixed cartoonish violence, sexual fluidity, heartthrob-y actors, great soundtracks and ironic pop culture references.
They were polarizing, but despite the 10-episode series Now Apocalypse looking and sounding like a quintessential expression of Araki’s madcap 90s stylism, it feels less extreme than his early films, erring on the sweeter entries in the director’s horny oeuvre, like Smiley Face. But then again, only the first five episodes were made available for review.
Co-written by Slutever sex columnist Karley Sciortino and Araki, the show has a refreshingly optimistic and fun attitude toward sex at a time when the prevalent conversations around the subject are heavy (and necessary) ones about consent.
The story revolves around a group of 20-something friends in Los Angeles: Ulysses (Jogia), a gay stoner struggling to find meaningful connection via dating apps his bestie Carly (Kelli Berglund), a closeted dom who moonlights as a cam girl and his hunky, aspiring screenwriter roommate Ford (Beau Mirchoff), who reluctantly opens up his relationship with his sexy scientist girlfriend Severine (Roxane Mesquida).
There’s a loose apocalyptic B-story that involves Ulysses seeming to rip open the space-time continuum during a back-alley hand job and subsequently having disturbing visions involving a reptilian alien. The sci-fi plot only occasionally flares up to add stakes to what’s primarily a raunchy comedy in the vein of Insecure or Girls.
Though Araki is often pegged as a nihilist, Now Apocalypse doesn’t buy into Ulysses’s existential desire to “throw myself into the void and see what happens.” Rather, the sci-fi element parallels our dark political climate, which contrasts and frames the characters’ open-minded sexual experimentation.
The fact that Ulysses, Carly and Ford are resisting nihilistic impulses is what makes Now Apocalypse satisfying as a sex comedy. The world around them might be growing darker, but their sex lives are full of possibility. (Without having seen the full season, I can’t say how this thematic tension ultimately plays out.)
Araki films his cast – many of whom are clearly intent on leaving Disney-esque careers in the dust with this series – for maximal hotness without seeming creepy. A couple episodes feature long sections in which he cuts between the main characters in similar scenarios – in bed trying something new sexually or chatting in pools – that are sexy, but also believably awkward.
The plot lines – which include women learning to be dominant in bed, polyamory, online dating and sleeping with closeted guys – portray technology as both liberating and inhibiting.
In an early scene, Carly shoots her roommate’s Tinder photos, telling her “hot and confused” is the optimal look. There are several extended sequences of Carly satisfying an array of web-cammer fetish fantasies, but ultimately the scenes are about her own awakening and how the cam allows her to act in ways her boyfriend Jethro (Desmond Chiam) isn’t comfortable with.
Berglund is the breakout star, with a performance that deftly alternates between confidence and insecurity. She’s clearly relishing the deadpan one-liners and over-the-top wardrobe heavy on 90s raver fur and mesh.
Michoff’s character arc is a slower burn. Ford’s sculpted body gives him a lot of social currency and, as such, all the guys in the show lust after him. As Ulysses puts it, he’s “that truly rare Kinsey zero, where I am an ever-oscillating four.” But Ford is too focused on his conflicted desire for monogamy to notice the attention, and Michoff’s unrelenting earnestness manages to transcend the fascistic body worship Araki so unapologetically indulges in.
Jogia, meanwhile, is charming as the hapless hero, but his alien storyline means the audience’s view into his gay dating foibles are more sporadic and shallow. Ulysses is really into emotionally unavailable men – married, straight, closeted – but the first five episodes are more about playing up his fantasies than exploring them. Let’s hope his sex scenes deepen in the show’s bottom half.
As a Hollywood and pop culture satire, Now Apocalypse is fitfully funny. (“I’m a millennial so sexual fluidity is kind of a requirement,” is a typical straight-to-the-point quip.) Ford and Carly find themselves fending off predatory producer-types, and Carly endures a hilariously humiliating casting session. The dialogue is full of references to the state of the film industry and the degradation of art in the face of blockbuster movies. There’s even a borderline fourth-wall-busting reference when Carly tells Severine in their first scene alone together, “We are completely flunking the Bechdel test.”
Subtlety is not what Now Apocalypse is about, but that’s also part of the show’s appeal. Araki’s world is candy-coloured, sexy and often unconcerned with the requirements of TV plotting in ways that are pleasantly meandering and, at other times, frustrating. It’s all about people enjoying sex, and even when the sex is bad, it’s not the end of the world.
@kevinritchie
