Kathleen Jordan, the showrunner for Netflix’s audaciously hedonistic reimagining of Giovanni Boccaccio’s Renaissance comic drama, The Decameron, had her inspiration amidst the grimmest period of the pandemic. She was agitated by the insensitivity shown by certain celebrities during the Covid crisis, presumably referring to the unsettling Gal Gadot Imagine video.
The Decameron, as you may recall from your history lessons, is set during the Plague, with strangers seeking sanctuary in a villa in Tuscany while the rest of the world falls into chaos. Bearing in mind the recent occurrences, Jordan’s takeaway is that global health emergencies do not necessarily unite people, but can instead expose the gap between the privileged and the less fortunate.
Unfortunately, this freshly revamped version of Decameron only manages to highlight the gulf between high-quality and substandard television fare. The mood of the show is somewhat akin to the intolerably conceited society comedy-drama White Lotus, mixed with late 20th-century bawdy farce elements, reminiscent of a version of Carry On meets the Plague.
One of the scarce redeeming features of this disappointing romp is its charismatic cast. They are commendably diverse, although this excludes the participation of any Italian actors – and as usual, this diversity does not extend to their accents where British ones largely prevail.
A notable outlier is Saoirse-Monica Jackson, known for “Derry Girls,” who portrays Misia, the maid to the bothersome aristocrat Pampinea (played by Zosia Mamet). Jackson gives it her all, but is hindered by an absurd take on hipster hairstyle and a script that mainly requires her to express her disdain and throw bitter insults at her mistress – who intends to wed the lord of the manor (not knowing he has recently succumbed to the dread of bubonic plague).
The remaining characters also display a lacklustre and oversimplified nature. Amar Chadha-Patel’s comedic abilities are noticeably underutilised, as he adopts the uninteresting persona of Dioneo, whereas, Lou Gala, a French actress, is burdened with the thankless task of playing Neifile, the holy fool. The lone cast member endowed with a role of substance is Tanya Reynolds from Sex Education, who embodies a noble character harbouring a secret.
Jordan invests significant effort in maintaining a jovial atmosphere, punctuating the soundtrack with contemporary pop hits. However, an overbearing lack of subtlety is the cause of much annoyance. For instance, when a maidservant pushes her lady off a bridge, assuming her persona, Depeche Mode’s Master and Servant ironically begins to play. It serves as yet another vexing embellishment in a performance best bypassed as one would a rampant disease.