Netflix’s Glamorous has the potential to be a show about the importance of being oneself, but unfortunately, it falls short in delivering a clear identity. It attempts to be a workplace comedy but lacks an understanding of how work actually functions. It also aims to be a rom-com but fails to generate any genuine sparks between its characters. Additionally, as a Gen Z coming-of-age saga, it relies on cultural references that feel outdated and disconnected from its target audience.
The show revolves around Marco, a young queer man who aspires to be a beauty influencer. However, with a low follower count, he primarily earns his money working at a makeup counter in a New Jersey department store. Marco’s life takes a sudden turn when the owner of the makeup brand, Madolyn, shows up and offers him a job as her assistant. Madolyn hopes that Marco will bring new life to her luxury brand and help it overcome its current challenges.
At first glance, this premise seems promising. However, the execution falls short. Marco, played by Miss Benny and written by Jordon Nardino, comes across as a collection of TikTok-ready soundbites and catchphrases rather than a fully realized character. His constant need for validation and his superficial personality become grating over the course of the ten-hour season. The show fails to delve deeper into his psychology or address the consequences of his actions.
Madolyn, portrayed by Kim Cattrall, fares slightly better due to Cattrall’s commanding presence. However, the show’s reluctance to portray Madolyn in a negative or teasing light undermines the potential for interesting character dynamics. It lacks the bite and satire of films like The Devil Wears Prada, instead portraying Madolyn as an unquestionably cool and admirable figure. This dilutes the potential for conflict and drama within the show.
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Visually, the show also falls short. The director’s love for lens flare becomes distracting and takes away from the overall viewing experience. The visuals fail to enhance the storytelling and instead become a hindrance.
Despite its flaws, Glamorous does occasionally display glimpses of its potential. It can be funny when poking fun at the self-absorbed personalities within the beauty industry. The show also attempts to tackle issues of corporate allyship and the cynicism surrounding it. However, these attempts lack depth and fail to provide meaningful insights. The show’s Pride campaign feels contrived, and the logistics behind it remain unclear.
The supporting cast provides some relief from the underdeveloped main characters. Ayesha Harris and Michael Hsu Rosen have great chemistry as Britt and Ben, two coworkers who playfully tease each other about their office crushes. Diana Maria Riva, as Marco’s mother, offers a grounded and pragmatic perspective amidst the chaotic workplace drama. Zane Phillips shines as Chad, Madolyn’s conniving yet endearing son.
Unfortunately, these bright spots are overshadowed by the tedious love triangle between Marco, a finance bro, and a lovelorn coworker. The constant barrage of outdated pop culture references also becomes tiresome. Additionally, the show’s unwavering belief in job loyalty overlooks the importance of personal growth and exploration.
While Glamorous deserves recognition for giving a queer brown lead character a platform, it falls short in providing a nuanced and authentic portrayal. The show emphasizes the importance of self-discovery and growth but ultimately relies on safe and predictable choices. Its shallowness prevents it from truly capturing the authentic journey Marco seeks throughout the season.
In conclusion, Glamorous fails to solidify its identity, leaving viewers craving a more cohesive and thoughtful story. It has occasional moments of humor and insight, but these are not enough to outweigh its overall shortcomings. With stronger writing, deeper character development, and a clearer direction, Glamorous could have been a powerful exploration of self-acceptance and personal growth.
