THERE’S nothing more richly deserving of a good, hard satirical kick in its irrigation-cleansed backside than the wellness industry, a haven for a rogues’ gallery of quacks, weirdos, chancers and con artists.
ll it receives in the miniseries Nine Perfect Strangers (Amazon Prime: three episodes available now, the rest arriving weekly), set in a high-end wellness resort called Tranquillum House run by eccentric Russian guru Masha (Nicole Kidman), is a soft poke in the ribs when a character describes wellness as “just another construct to separate rich people from their money”.
Nine Perfect Strangers is the third collaboration, after Big Little Lies and The Undoing, between Kidman and writer/super-producer David E Kelly.
It’s based, as was the first of those two, on a novel by Liane Moriarty.
The story has been transplanted from Moriarty’s native Australia to California. Ironically, the production ended up being filmed in Australia because of Covid.
It’s unfortunate for everyone involved that it arrives less than a week after The White Lotus, another miniseries on the theme of well-off people recharging their batteries at a lavish, sun-kissed resort. It’s doubly unfortunate that it suffers in comparison.
While The White Lotus is a sharp, funny, acerbic black comedy that ruthlessly skewers moneyed entitlement, Nine Perfect Strangers is mediocre and as shallow as a dinner plate.
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The nine individuals who arrive for 10 days at the retreat are far from perfect (they wouldn’t be there if they were, I suppose) and in some cases they’re not even strangers.
The Marconi family, high-school teacher Napoleon (Michael Shannon), wife Heather (Asher Keddie) and their daughter Zoe (Grace Van Patten), are struggling with unresolved grief after the suicide of Zoe’s twin brother.
They’re the only ones of the nine not being charged the full rate.
Young married couple Jessica and Ben (Samara Weaving and Melvin Gregg), who roar into the retreat in a Ferrari, are rich, thanks to a $22m lottery win, but in trouble.
You wonder why they didn’t just go to marriage counselling instead.
Frances (Melissa McCarthy) is a romantic novelist who was recently scammed out of money by an online boyfriend.
To rub salt in the wound, she learns on the way to the retreat that her publisher has rejected her latest book and wants to sever her contract.
Tony (Bobby Cannavale) is a grumpy former NFL player who’s addicted to painkillers as a result of the back injury that ended his career.
Carmel (Regina Hall) is a divorcee whose outwardly sweet, if slightly irritating, personality conceals seething anger and rage.
Finally, there’s Lars (Luke Evans), who was recently dumped by his boyfriend and – since he’s the one who considers wellness a racket – appears to have a secret agenda.
Against the rules, he’s smuggled in a smart watch linked to his mobile.
Could he be the one sending Masha threatening texts?
It’s clear that there’s something weird going on in the way Masha is getting inside the guests’ heads and manipulating them, and in the unorthodox therapy she administers, which includes having them dig what look to be their own graves, sending them, hungry, into the forest to forage for their own food and, in a lighter moment, having a sack race.
Is it for the benefit of their health or for her own ends? It’s also possible that the individually-tailored shakes they’re given to drink are spiked with something.
There are plenty of very fine actors here, but they’re ill-served by a tedious script.
The only time I found my interest perking up was in the scenes featuring just McCarthy and Cannavale.
They start out taking sardonic bites out of one another, but gradually a bond starts to form.
The two actors have excellent screen chemistry. It’s just a pity it’s not in a better series.
As for Kidman, her own company helped produce the series, which is presumably why she’s allowed to get away with giving a dreadful performance.
Her Russian accent comes and goes as it pleases, much like her absurd character, who wafts around in white robes, her long hair haloed by light, spouting New Age-y crap.
It’s hard to tell what Nine Perfect Strangers is supposed to be.
It flirts with different genres: psychodrama, suspense thriller, even a dab of horror. It’s harder still to give a damn about any of it.