American Gigolo

This is glossy trash, but I can’t deny the addictive nature of the blood-soaked melodrama, and after viewing the first three episodes, I’m guilty of looking forward to seeing how it all plays out.

Given that its most intriguing facets have to do with Julian’s interior struggles, it remains to be seen if American Gigolo can sustain itself over the course of ten episodes (much less multiple seasons). ... It may not be as unique and pioneering as its source material (or celebrate its star, à la Gere, in all his unclothed full-frontal glory), but Hollander’s drama has a poise and polish that makes it a date worth keeping.

What American Gigolo succeeds at is setting itself apart from its predecessor, proving that it's more than just a glossy restoration of something we've already seen. Still, it struggles to find its footing as a modern story. If the tail end of Episode 3 is any indication, there could be good things to come. But that might be a lot to ask from a show that, at its core, struggles to untangle itself from the confines of the past.

Bernthal is convincing as both a 30-year-old Julian in over his head, and as the 45-year-old ex-convict trying to put his life back together, and O’Donnell is a surprisingly natural fit as a hardboiled detective. But the unanswered questions driving the story are just not as suspenseful as the show seems to think. Ultimately, American Gigolo is a dour show that seems disinterested in capturing the spirit of what made the original a hit.

“American Gigolo,” while thoroughly watchable, doesn’t entirely make sense tonally: Mr. Bernthal is first-rate. ... But the pace is uneven and there’s a lot of fishing for response among viewers when they haven’t been offered much bait.

Maybe subsequent episodes will expand Julian's story beyond the who-framed-me-and-why basics; Bernthal can be electric when given the right material. For now, the best thing about Gigolo is O'Donnell's splendidly wry turn as Detective Sunday.

Perhaps as it clarifies its central mystery and all too slowly weaves together the many strands it’s initially setting up, American Gigolo may emerge as a provocative proposition. As it stands, from the three episodes we watched, it doesn’t quite live up to its infamous title.

Bernthal is asked to do little more than look glum and spend a prodigious amount of time walking around various scenic locations staring off into the middle distance. He’s rarely allowed to be truly sexy, and much of his natural charisma is flattened by the mercilessly grim nature of the story.

Fans of Hollander’s “Ray Donovan” will recognize Hollander’s style of storytelling.

The show's premise on its own is intriguing, and Bernthal obviously has the range required to give it the nuanced performance it deserves, but at its current juncture, American Gigolo offers little to no excitement about its ultimate destination.

I really can’t overstate how bizarre this version is. ... It creates a misogynistic fantasy of its own, not to mention borrowing from Q’s corrosive idea that sex trafficking is an underground network servicing an elite clientele. This American Gigolo is wild where the old one was steadfastly subdued, but I’m not sure the new Julian Kay is any closer to a man who ever really lived.

Despite the performances in the first episode, this remake of American Gigolo just doesn’t have enough going on to justify an 8-episode series, and it’ll likely get really boring and frustrating before it gets interesting.

It’s as subtle as a brick wrapped in cement dunked in concrete. Also it’s horribly slow, even the sections that don’t unfold in actual slow motion.

A dolorous, oxygen-starved eight-episode series.

In the three episodes provided to critics, the timeline moves forward and backward, over and over, between Julian’s past and his present, in a strained attempt to bring a sense of depth to what is ultimately a shallow story.

Despite the game if unremarkable efforts of star Jon Bernthal, none of the narrative or character development hinted at in those earlier episodes gives any indication that this is a journey worth continuing.

Once you get past the familiar strains of Blondie's "Call Me" over the opening credits, the message from American Gigolo isn't worth answering. It is, rather, a misguided and distasteful reboot, seeking to tease the movie's premise into a larger mystery. Jon Bernthal struts his stuff as the escort trying to get his laugh back, but this '80s artifact should have been left in the time capsule.

The [opening] sequence is just about as good as the show gets. While the original film captured the zeitgeist of its era, all the series has going for it–besides a charismatic performance from its reliably great lead–is nostalgia. ... An otherwise superfluous sequel. And if there’s one thing that snuffs out an erotic thriller even faster than nostalgia, it’s the choice to play it safe.

“American Gigolo” is lead-footed, and prurient rather than hot. And Bernthal seems at sea here.

Schrader’s 2% sacred/98% profane pretensions (which the filmmaker himself impishly jokes about) have been replaced with sentimentality; there’s even a beach dog that takes a shine to this puppified Julian. Alternately gritty and snazzy, the series looks good in an unmemorable way. ... The classic Blondie recording, which played over the movie’s and now the series’ opening credits, reminds us of the roaring energy that’s missing this time around.