The Eddy review: Damien Chazelle's Netflix debut is indulgent, but a musical hit.

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• The Eddy review: Damien Chazelle's Netflix debut is indulgent, but a musical hit.

In case it wasn't already obvious, director Damien Chazelle likes music. I really like him. The now-famous director was once doomed to become a professional jazz drummer when he studied at Princeton High School, and the fact that he had a particularly intense tutor won't surprise fans of his hit movie, Whiplash. Then there was his group at Harvard, Chester French and, of course, La La Land, his heartfelt and timeless ode to the musical. Just as music has characterized and defined the director's life, so has The Eddy, a recently released limited series for Netflix in which Chazelle seems to have been able to fill out his eight-hour stint with as much jazz as he has. can. Here, it's the whole language of the show and the structural glue that holds it together. It almost looks like a television made of jazz. But for all of The Eddy's entertaining glamor and emotional weight, it's held back by purposelessness and overindulgence. The Eddy is the story of a Parisian jazz club and the group of the same name that conduct their exuberant business there every night. However, the club founded by Elliot Udo (André Holland, Moonlight) is experiencing financial difficulties. This famous New York musician has to deal with increasingly troublesome business interests, his extremely exhausting daughter, Julie, and the dysfunctional group while recording a very important album. The Eddy heralds the streaming scene in a burgeoning era of jazz renaissance in general. In recent years, the popularity of the genre has exploded. Spotify reported in 2018 that its UK Jazz playlist had more than doubled, with artists like the Ezra collective, The Comet is Coming and Kamasi Washington revitalizing the genre and repurposing it for our turbulent present. In short, jazz is cool now. Eddy thinks he's cool too. And it is, for the most part. At first, however, this can put some people off. The title card of the show effortlessly invites you into this "Netflix original series" and most of the actors in this section, between French and English. His tone and style will certainly not be for everyone. The musical numbers, of which there are many, often exceed their reception, so if you have something against jazz, I wouldn't bother looking. And when we start to observe the group in the crowd, they seem arrogant and aloof, whining at each other over minor mistakes. This first impression fades when you realize The Eddy doesn't take himself as seriously as he initially seems. Farid's wife, Amira (Leïla Bekhti), gently teases them for their snobbery, and while playing at an outdoor wedding concert, the bride whispers that she wishes to trade her "elevator music" for something more popular. Even the bank refuses to support the club because "they are not French enough". But it is the structure of The Eddy that hides under the high-value skin of its characters. Each episode is named after a character and then driven mostly by the baggage that person brings to each concert. These mini-stories gave the show the feel of an anthology, and it was a strong creative choice. As Katarina struggles to get the state support her disabled father needs and Sim despairs in his efforts to get his terminally ill mother to Mecca, we see the true diversity that enriches the suburbs of Paris. Other than a poster featuring "Strength in Diversity" in the background and a copy of James Baldwin's ticket price, the importance of diversity is not commented on or underscored.

(Image credit: Netflix) As the group comes together to record their album, the latest episode called "The Eddy," it's another story, like an empty gallery that's now full. The sound they produce is more nuanced in context. Once we know that the band members are touching the pain of addiction or a bad relationship with a parent, we understand where the passion for their music comes from, and that creates a pretty good whole in the end. That being said, The Eddy occasionally switches to cheese and melodrama. After a hectic night involving a sloppy sexual encounter hijacked by drug dealers, Julie plays her clarinet to confront him. Impromptu performances frequently occur as if The Eddy is some kind of impromptu musical, and it doesn't always work. We also get a classic rom-com shot as Elliot makes a final appeal to the love of him and Eddy's lead singer, Maja, at the airport. The show is at its weakest when it wants to become a police thriller. The fallout from Elliot's partner's questionable business transactions sparks a global conspiracy that becomes increasingly ridiculous and eventually ends. The big bad gangster who torments Elliot and the club with firebombs and threats is someone who really likes jazz, for example. The lack of crescendo gives the impression that another season is in the works, but it is only a limited series.

(Image credit: Netflix) But, as we remember in the final scenes, The Eddy is all about the music and the people who produce it. So much so that the scenes without her are conspicuous by her absence. With lively concert scenes still echoing in the mind, the scene of a body prepared for burial, emptied of all life, color, and sound, is particularly jarring and austere in its cold silence. Other moments are played simultaneously with the group's performances, both to enhance and contrast with events elsewhere. Sometimes at The Eddy, music and life become so intertwined they can't be told apart. It's all made better by a demanding close-up camera that helps us feel like we're there. We climb right into Elliot's face in a way reminiscent of Ryan Gosling's claustrophobic cabin in First Man, which Holland masterfully copes with as his face shows endless variations of 'I don't need it yet.' . Conversations are as chaotic as a solo as we spin face to face. Immersed in the center of the crowd, you can almost taste the black coffee in the middle of the tobacco haze. While this may seem off-putting to some at first, what starts off as impenetrable and aloof becomes more welcoming as the flaws in the party's initially arrogant armor are revealed. Every note, scene, and character come together to unite us under one roof, regardless of our origins, through a shared appreciation of music. Eddy's earnestness in presenting his clairvoyant call on the unifying power of music means he's drifting into something too long, pandering and all that jazz, but his heart is in the right place.