Genius (2017)

We’ve all heard the names of the series’ subjects so far (and next year’s subject, author Mary Shelley), and may know something about them — perhaps a lot about them. But the addition of solid performances and attention to production details of setting, design and costumes enhances our knowledge and goes a long way toward making us want to know--and see--more.

The marquee star (Antonio Banderas, channeling an Anthony Quinn-like virility as the established maestro) risks being upstaged by the lesser-known actor (Alex Rich) who plays his younger self in vivid flashbacks. ... Seeing this world through his eyes, we're afforded a tantalizing taste of genius. [16 Apr - 29 Apr 2018, p.13]

The problem is one of focus. The show isn’t “Genius: Picasso and Pals”; it’s about one man, one genius. As the show’s attention spreads, Genius increasingly feels like an ensemble series. Unfortunately, with so few episodes, and two different timelines to progress through, side stories feel like distractions from the core idea of the season. When Picasso is at the forefront, though, Genius is impressive.

If you don’t mind its superficialities, Genius can be enjoyed for its surface attributes, including Mr. Banderas’s impressive makeup and expectedly seductive performance. (If he suffers in comparison to Mr. Rush, it’s because the show’s conception of Einstein, focused less on seduction, was more interesting.)

There is much to admire here, from the performances to the cinematography, but then there are aspects of the production that aren't all that admirable. That would include the erratic direction and wildly inconsistent dialogue.

An extravaganza of exhausting time shifts and mind-numbing dialogue that can use all the sympathy it gets. When the drama comes vividly alive, as it does often enough, the subject is seldom art. It’s almost always Picasso (a seductive if also largely unknowable character in Antonio Banderas’s subtle portrayal) and the women who loved him: women he loved and needed in turn and in time betrayed and abandoned.

In the end, Genius: Picasso remains a minor effort all around. It moves so quickly and summarizes so much, it’s hard to trust anything but the most basic aspects of the story. Even the art is relegated to the background, as the series highlights only one painting in the first four hours.

Almost non-stop hackneyed dialogue about the nature of art, delivered with bizarre accent and performance choices, in a cumbersomely arced dual narrative about the power of one-dimensional women to inspire and enable spectacular men.