Pilot (E01)

“Not getting fuck.” It looks like Scorsese decided to apply the delaying tactic from his last film on a larger scale. Multiple scenes in the first episode of Vinyl are reminiscent of the funniest segment of The Wolf of Wall Street (the paralysed DiCaprio), which was long and entertaining, but advanced the plot only minimally as a result. I really don’t know if this retarded narrative was the intention or if its creators only needed to stretch a one-hour plot to twice its length, so they added tens of minutes of verbal exchanges that go nowhere, at the end of which something essential and absolutely unpredictable occasionally happens. Thanks to the feeding of the narrative from several genre sources, it is also difficult to predict the plot twists. This insensitive comedy joyride, which doesn’t spare Anne Frank, ABBA or Chekhov, overlaps with the existential drama of a has-been producer whose descent into darkness and estrangement from his family (which we first learn about after roughly 40 minutes) hastens the shift to a dark crime story. The striking visual references to his earlier films (Taxi Driver, Goodfellas) and the disorderliness of the narrative contribute to the impression of a wild party that Scorsese threw mainly for his own pleasure. Though the point of view of Richie, who introduces himself to us as an unreliable narrator immediately at the beginning, is dominant, it is enhanced by Jamie’s point of view – without contributing to the construction of the story – and in one scene we abandon the protagonist in favour of Devon. The frequent flashbacks (which become more and more frequent as the ending approaches) and musical interpolations serve mainly to rhythmise the narrative, which – paradoxically thanks to the scenes with a long-delayed point – cannot be faulted much. Vinyl’s pilot is reminiscent of an overwrought rock musical. Thanks to the rights to the biggest rock hits, it sounds great and, thanks to the agitated camerawork, it’s never boring because of how it looks, but it doesn’t care too much about the narrative structure and what it is telling us. Perhaps the individual pieces will fit together better with subsequent episodes. (18.02.2016)

Vinyl reminds me of Marty’s earlier work. Unfortunately reminding is where it stops. Because it’s a serial, it doesn’t carry any deeper message and all you can do is “just" get carried off by the perfect atmosphere of 1973 and enjoy great lines and drug escapes. Not that it’s too little, but I simply expected more. We’ll see what the coming episodes bring. Bobby Cannavale is excellent so far. (22.02.2016)