As a writer, I’m drawn to stories about the industry—how it breaks you, builds you, tempts you with “passion projects,” then throws you into development hell with a branded kombucha partnership.
But every mentor I’ve ever had—from Roadmap Writers to late-night industry panels—says the same thing:
“Don’t write about Hollywood.”
Too inside baseball. Too close for comfort. Too easy to get wrong.
And then Seth Rogen went and did it.
With Evan Goldberg.
And not just did it—but scalpel-sharp, heart-sinking, scream-laughing nailed it.
Their new show, The Studio, doesn’t spoof the industry.
It unzips it.
Rips the lining out.
Then quietly asks, “Was there ever anything in here except air and recycled ideas?”
Episode 1 sets the tone.
We meet Rick Rubens (Rogen), a studio head with dreams of making real films. He wants to work with Martin Scorsese. He wants art.
What he gets is a pitch for a Kool-Aid cinematic universe.
And the worst part? He caves.
Even after he buys the Scorsese script, he doesn’t fight for it.
He kills it—softly, apologetically.
Like a nice guy who’s used to losing battles before they begin.
Because that’s what Hollywood does. It teaches you to smile while you’re surrendering.
Then there’s that moment.
The exec team is gathered, discussing diversity.
The boss looks at the one Black man in the room and says:
“We got you.”
And the room moves on.
No one blinks.
No one cringes—except us.
It’s performative diversity at its most polished.
The line is uncomfortable on purpose.
It’s not clever. It’s not subtle.
It’s honest.
Which, in Hollywood, might be the most subversive thing of all.
Episode 2 cranks the tension and locks us into a single, uninterrupted shot—appropriately titled The Oner.
The camera never cuts. It spirals. Glides. Circles the chaos of a live shoot that slowly, spectacularly unravels.
You feel the sweat. The desperation. The slow decay of a creative vision under fluorescent lights and last-minute notes.
And how they shot this?
Brilliant.
A masterclass in how camera movement becomes emotion. [See this great article]
Rick wants to support a brilliant indie director—played by Sarah Polley, who absolutely nails the simmering rage of a woman who’s been “handled” one too many times.
He says all the right things…
Right up until he bulldozes her set with catastrophically supportive energy.
Because here’s the truth:
Rick thinks he’s doing good.
But in Hollywood, good intentions don’t stand a chance unless they’re profitable, printable, and pre-cleared by marketing.
Episode 3? Stay tuned—my Sunday self-assignment.
The Studio understands the gap between what Hollywood says it wants—originality, boldness, fresh voices—and what it actually rewards: nostalgia, branding, spin.
This show isn’t just satire. It’s a diagnosis.
It names the disease, tracks the symptoms, and lets the camera linger while the patient keeps smiling and taking meetings.
Hollywood is full of liars and losers.
But also people like Rick—well-meaning, mildly delusional optimists who think maybe this time, the art will win.
Spoiler: it won’t.
But for once, the truth does.
And it’s sharp, messy, and beautifully shot.
So no, I haven’t written my “Hollywood story.”
But now I kind of want to.
Because if The Studio is “too close for comfort,”
maybe it’s exactly the script we’ve been avoiding for too long.
Signup our newsletter to get update information, promotions and insight.