The Master of Compulsively Watchable TV

As a die-hard fan of all things nostalgic and Americana, I find myself deeply captivated by the enchanting tale of ‘Emily in Paris’. The show beautifully encapsulates the essence of being an American abroad, much like my own experience discovering a familiar beacon of home – McDonald’s – amidst the romantic cobblestones of Paris.


For about as long as any millennial has been watching television, Darren Star has been making it: Beverly Hills 90210, Melrose Place, Sex and the City, Younger, Emily in Paris. His hits span four decades and various business models in the medium — broadcast, cable, streaming — all known for their compulsive watchability. It’s possible that what he loves most about writing television is the act of starting a new show; once each one had found its legs, he often left to do it again elsewhere. Nostalgia doesn’t interest him. “I’m a shark,” he says. “I like to keep looking forward.” In person, the 63 year old is tanned and smiley, wearing a fitted black T-shirt and white jeans. At his suggestion, we have lunch at Union Square Cafe, a classic ’80s restaurant that hasn’t lost its audience. “As I always say, ‘You really only need one hit show at a time,’” he tells me.

At age 28, you were involved with Beverly Hills 90210 when it first got approved for production. Can you share what the initial concept or pitch was? I remember saying that no one had created a series from a teenager’s perspective. Films like The Breakfast Club and even teen magazines portrayed some understanding of teenage sexuality and their lives. However, there was a lack of relatable content on television at the time. It seems unbelievable now, but it was the riskiest venture ever. Aaron Spelling didn’t have any active projects at that moment. Fox was still a relatively new, edgy network. Essentially, they said, “Alright, give it a try.”

From the initial episode to the end of its first season, I was deeply immersed. Alongside Aaron, we both played a significant role in shaping the series. In filmmaking, my influence as a writer was minimal, but in television, I found myself partaking in every aspect – from casting decisions and editing, right down to music selection. The pilot episode exceeded all expectations with its impressive test results. Unfortunately, the ratings during the first year were not favorable. It seemed like the show was constantly teetering on cancellation. I recall Aaron discussing with the network, “Please grant us three additional episodes.” He was relentless in his pursuit of the series’ success. The show struggled to stay afloat until reruns started gaining traction. Then, it returned during the summer and exploded in popularity.

As for the cast, they weren’t particularly younger than yourself. Did you ever find yourself needing to establish authority? And did you socialize with them by partying? Well, to be honest, I was completely engrossed in the workload that came with filming so many episodes, leaving me no room for leisure activities. They seemed like they were enjoying themselves while I struggled to stay afloat. The network always kept us on our toes, adding a touch of tension to the whole experience.

Was the increased attention from the network a result of the sudden popularity? Yes, because I had written and directed the controversial spring dance episode at the end of the first season, where Brenda (Shannen Doherty) and Dylan (Luke Perry) had sex at their junior prom. Once these affiliates realized what they’d broadcasted, many became upset. It wasn’t just the fact that Brenda had sex, but she seemed to enjoy it. When we resumed for the next season, they insisted on an episode where she expressed regret. I found myself in a difficult position, having to write this scene. She experienced a pregnancy scare, realizing she was too young to have sex. However, if you look back at the first season, it seems as though the Hays Code was not strictly enforced. There were several edgier episodes.

Was there more to how the network handled things besides what we saw?

Were you also working on “Melrose Place” around the same time as I was heavily involved with “90210” for about the first 50 episodes, and then primarily focused on “Melrose Place”?

Was it perhaps the mature themes on Melrose Place that allowed for greater creative freedom regarding sexual content?

Are you thinking if it leans towards being overly theatrical or exaggerated, like something out of a camp? However, initially, what made Melrose Place successful was the sincerity of its first 20 episodes as they developed these grounded characters in an almost mundane manner.

The initial scenes have a feel of authentic everyday life, bordering on naturalism. It’s as if we are drawn into their world, where these extraordinary events unfolded, because they weren’t initially extraordinary. I believe that is often the risk – if everyone had started at such a high pitch, the show might not have been effective.

How did you manage to produce such a large quantity of stories? For shows like 90210 and Melrose Place, seasons ranged from 22 to as high as 32 episodes.
Initially, the fast-paced environment took me aback. However, I found myself drawn to the deadlines, the bustling activity, and the constant production process. Writing with the knowledge that what I’m penning will be produced next week became quite addictive. This forced writing style didn’t allow for much overthinking. The less time you have, the less time you spend deliberating. In a sense, your thoughts flow more freely. You let ideas drop without worrying too much about censoring them. You take more risks. You experiment more.

In the script-writing room for Melrose Place, I proposed an intriguing concept: Marcia Cross’s character, Kimberly, was initially believed dead in a car accident. She vanishes for approximately 17 episodes before reappearing. The audience remains unaware of her whereabouts, and she exhibits strange behavior. Eventually, she enters her bathroom, removes her wig to reveal a distressing scar. I anticipated the writers would dismiss it as absurd, but instead, they responded with excitement: “Oh, my God. I love it.” Embrace your unusual ideas; they are essential for crafting compelling narratives.

The series 90210 skyrocketed in popularity, transforming the relatively unknown cast members into household names. This sudden fame didn’t particularly affect my approach to writing the show, as I remained deeply engrossed in crafting scripts, working in the editing room, and ensuring timely release of each episode. It’s almost surreal to think about the extent of its popularity. The cast wasn’t just featured in teen magazines; there were multiple publications solely dedicated to 90210, indicating an unprecedented level of fervor. It was a phenomenon that spiraled out of control.

How did it affect managing the set?
They were crazy.

Looking back on that period, it seems as though everyone was living a bit on the edge. The cast was putting in 13-hour days, five times a week for years on end. It felt like they were all still in high school while making the show. Working with them certainly pushed me to grow up faster. I recall directing an episode when Shannen wasn’t present. We spent time trying to track her down: “Where is Shannen?” Just to clarify, I have a great affection for Shannen and appreciate her immensely.

Did Shannen’s passing prompt you to reminisce on the time you spent collaborating? I found myself contemplating Brenda and Shannen, as they played such significant roles in shaping my professional journey by helping me create strong female characters. Shannen breathed life into Brenda with her spirit, tenacity, and complexity, which encouraged me to delve deeper into the character of Brenda. Shannen was a woman of independent spirit who felt deeply, much like the teenage girls she portrayed, who were truly powerful individuals. She embodied the essence of adolescent girlhood in a way that resonated with me.

I’m curious to learn more about your experience with that relationship. It’s not uncommon for someone, regardless of sexual orientation, to be attracted to powerful women. For instance, David E. Kelley created ‘Ally McBeal’, Woody Allen has written numerous female characters, Tom Wolfe penned ‘I Am Charlotte Simmons’. So, it’s not necessary to be a gay man to write compelling female characters. Even ‘The Mary Tyler Moore Show’, which was a significant influence on you, was written by straight men. The notion that only gay men can write women is inaccurate and oversimplified. Writers are tasked with empathizing with their characters and understanding life from various perspectives, regardless of their own identity.

It seems you’ve expressed that there might be a particular connection between gay men and certain women, but you’re open to moving past the labels. What truly piques your interest is your bond with such a woman. I wanted to echo this viewpoint as it resonates with me, although I must admit, it feels somewhat unconventional. You see, I too share a lot of friendships with women and hold them in high regard. My family consists of strong, intelligent, and humorous females – my mother and sister included. The female characters in my productions often embody the spirit of an underdog. I find myself drawn to these characters because I believe women are complex beings, capable of humor, openness with their emotions, and much more.

As a die-hard television enthusiast, I first crossed paths with Candace Bushnell when she penned an insightful piece about me for Vogue during my stint on Central Park West for CBS. Our friendship blossomed from there, and as I yearned to break free from the rigid confines of network TV, I found an opportunity in her witty New York Observer column. Seeking a more creative outlet, I decided to adapt this into either a movie or cable series, where I could explore uncharted territories without censorship, ultimately giving birth to Sex and the City.

As a cinephile, I yearned for absolute creative freedom. What’s amusing is that I perceived Sex and the City as an unconventional, anti-commercial venture. I feared that it might be misconstrued, potentially jeopardizing my career. There was a concern that people would label it too explicit: “Oh my God, it’s too racy.” I believed my peers would appreciate its nuances and see it as a celebration rather than a demonization of sexuality. The era of AIDS had instilled a sense of caution around depicting sex. It carried an air of danger.

Speaking about its frankness, the show was set to air following the Bill Clinton-Monica Lewinsky scandal, which made it seem as though Americans were comfortable enough to discuss explicit topics like blowjobs during dinner. Essentially, I felt they were ready for a show like this, based on my discussions with friends.

In my rephrased version, here’s how the text would look:

The affair of Carrie in season three with Big against Aidan marked a significant leap in the show’s scope. I craved a character who could embody both love and loathing, one capable of making mistakes, yet still relatable. That moment transformed Carrie into a multidimensional figure, sparking conflicts among her friends and adding depth to Natasha as a character we could now see Carrie causing pain to.

Indeed, Carrie was the character I found myself resonating with most deeply. As a fellow writer, her neurotic tendencies, her unique perspective on life, and her ability to maintain an air of immaturity in her writing struck a chord with me. Writing characters like her or Emily from “Emily in Paris” requires a delicate balance – wisdom but also a connection to one’s younger self.

As a seasoned movie critic, I must admit that “Uncoupled” resonated deeply with me, having gone through a similar breakup myself, or so it seems many of us have. It’s like being single at any age, you’re forever in your twenties when you’re alone. Even though the years may pass, those feelings remain unchanged, and I find myself once again navigating those turbulent waters. The absence of a long-term partner has left me adrift, but it also opens up new horizons, forcing one to be more open to the world. It’s these experiences that have undoubtedly influenced my perspective and perhaps even the words I choose to write in my reviews.

The series “Uncoupled” aired for one season on Netflix before it was unexpectedly canceled and later picked up by Showtime. We were all set to produce the second season, but unfortunately, Showtime decided to cancel it as well. I’m guessing the reason is that our show didn’t attract enough viewers initially on Netflix, and then when it moved to Showtime, their strategy shifted – possibly no longer producing half-hour shows – which led to the abrupt end of our series.

Have you ever produced a series with a lead character who is openly gay, prior to Uncoupped?

In a different phrasing:

So, here’s what you were saying, simplified:

Is there a unique obstacle when targeting an audience that identifies as LGBTQ+ that makes marketing more difficult? Not necessarily. The key lies in creating a series featuring a main character who is gay or lesbian, and breaking through to a broader demographic. This was achieved with the show “Will & Grace.” It can happen again.

Back in 2000, you chose to relinquish your role as showrunner on Sex and the City after its third season and transitioned into a consultant position instead. This decision was driven by my desire for creative change. I had expressed much of what I wanted to express through the series, and I yearned to work on other projects. The opportunity to continue in my role was presented, but there was no room for me to also work on other shows at the same time while handling Sex and the City. If I hadn’t moved on from 90210, I wouldn’t have been able to pursue new opportunities as it ran for ten years. As a restless creative spirit, three seasons felt like an eternity. Although the shows I took up immediately afterwards may not have been massive successes, they were projects that resonated with me personally. Taking risks has always been part of my nature, whether the outcomes are ultimately favorable or not.

Is that still the case?
Yeah. That’s why I have more patience now. I really do.

Were you there until the conclusion of the story involving ‘Younger’ as well? I found it quite difficult to envision the unfolding of ‘Younger’ without my presence too.

Like network buy-in?
No, creatively.

If I were still the showrunner, how do you think “Sex and the City” would have continued if it hadn’t been concluded?

Justice.
I must confess, I wouldn’t have kept pursuing this creative endeavor if not for my passion. For those who are, I can only express admiration because they share that passion. It gives me a sense of vindication to know that the characters I’ve brought to life continue to resonate and captivate their audience.

So you’re not involved in And Just Like That …?
I’m not creatively involved.

Have you ever had a desire to become something? Not me, I’ve been engrossed in watching “Emily in Paris.” Check this out, they’ve revamped both “90210” and “Melrose Place.”

It seems that the culture of nostalgia has an influential hold on producers in Hollywood, causing them to either remake old projects or repurpose established intellectual properties. What are your thoughts on this? Personally, I think it’s unfortunate. I would rather take a risk with a new concept and potentially fail than rehash something that’s already been done. It seems like a manufactured product, and creating something original is challenging enough the first time around. However, I want to make it clear that I’m not criticizing “And Just Like That…” as it offers insights into its characters at different stages of their lives. There’s definitely relevance to it, without a doubt. Interestingly, I’ve had three shows rebooted, and that’s quite impressive.

Regarding your question about the series finale of Sex and the City, you mentioned that having Carrie end up with Big was seen as a betrayal of the show. If I were in charge, I might have chosen a different path. However, Michael Patrick King, who was in charge creatively during that final season, did an exceptional job. The show changed and so did Carrie. For me, the series wasn’t about a woman finding her man – that’s typical romantic comedy fare. It was about women empowerment, about them defining themselves fully, not just by marriage. However, if the ending had been different, I’m not sure it would have been as popular with the audience. The show ended on a note that pleased its viewers.

Could you share with me the events surrounding the simultaneous release of our shows, Cashmere Mafia and Lipstick Jungle, and the reported feelings of betrayal from Candace Bushnell and her circle? It’s important to note that while we experienced a disagreement during that time, I can now look back and understand the circumstances that led to it.

Initially, I had a contract with Sony for a project titled “Lipstick Jungle.” However, it was relocated and redeveloped without my involvement. Concurrently, Gail Katz presented me with a concept about four female friends inspired by her time at the Yale School of Management. I agreed to create a pilot episode with Kevin Wade, who enthusiastically embraced the idea and took charge of its development. Unfortunately, both projects occurred simultaneously, leading to much media speculation that ultimately did neither show any favors. This was an unfortunate network experience for me, characterized by excessive network meddling, multiple re-shoots, and numerous setbacks. I learned valuable lessons from this ordeal, particularly when it came to dealing with “creative differences.” To be honest, I doubt I’ll ever return to the realm of network television, as its popularity seems to be waning.

The TV series Grosse Pointe, which you switched from Sex and the City to create, is quite intriguing in your professional journey. It’s essentially a parody about developing a teen show that bears a faint resemblance to 90210. Writing it seemed to provide some sort of relief or release for me. However, I believe its satirical nature made it difficult for network television to fully appreciate it. If it had continued, I feel it would’ve thrived, especially in today’s streaming era where such content finds a more welcoming audience.

At the time, both Grosse Pointe and Popular, Ryan Murphy’s first series that satirized teen show clichés, were airing on WB simultaneously. It’s intriguing that network executives decided to produce them. In those days of broadcast television, there was often a disconnect between what executives truly liked or appreciated and what would be successful. They enjoyed Grosse Pointe, but they had to ask themselves if the ratings were sufficient to bring it back for another season. Unlike today with cable and streaming networks where love for a show can keep it going, back then on network TV, high ratings were necessary to keep a show running, regardless of executive affection.

Is Netflix essentially the same as before, if the viewership numbers are lacking? Not necessarily so now. In the past, perhaps it held a unique edge, but streamers these days seem to be resembling traditional networks more and more. However, if a show is winning Emmys, that sets it apart. When Fox canceled shows like Arrested Development and Kitchen Confidential, I remember thinking they were discarding their Emmy-winning series, indicating a disregard for quality. The distinction between being on a streamer or cable doesn’t matter much when your show is receiving critical acclaim and nominations; that alone can keep it going. I’ve developed and produced the book Good Christian Bitches; if I had simply called the show Highland Park, it likely would have been a hit. Honestly, I believe that’s because the book was titled Good Christian Bitches or GCB. This controversial title made me push harder to make the series succeed.

You really think it was the title that did …Oh, yeah. A lot of it.

Was there any discomfort for you working on Grosse Pointe, given the association with Aaron Spelling and the character of Tori Spelling (played by Lindsay Sloane), who he reportedly took issue with? You’ve mentioned that he was upset about it. I found that character rather endearing. Well, I can understand why that might have been challenging. In a way, that character represented me in a sense. If you watch the series, my character is always on edge, panicking, and anxious – like juggling network demands while trying to make everyone happy. It’s not the most flattering portrayal, but I wrote it for comedic effect. The show wasn’t a documentary; it was a satire. My intention was never to offend anyone.

In my opinion, stirring up conversations or feelings is not necessarily a negative aspect when it comes to media content. For instance, the show “Emily in Paris” may have caused some strong reactions, but it’s important to consider why this might be. I find myself asking, “What’s all the fuss about? Why are people taking this so seriously?” or “Is there something hidden within the series that offends some viewers?”

Initially, Emily in Paris was criticized as being detached from reality and portraying a dreamy lifestyle for the privileged. Now, I’d like to share my thoughts on this criticism. To be honest, my goal was to create a show that inspired people. I wanted to make an entertaining program about an American in Paris. When I was 19, I spent a summer exploring Europe, and I fell in love with Paris. If the show encourages even one person to visit Paris, then it’s served its purpose. As for the critics, their opinions hold little significance for me. I’m not quite sure what the question is regarding that.

Did you find any truth in the criticism towards Emily in Paris? One of the critics, Deborah Copaken, who previously wrote for Emily in Paris as a scriptwriter, penned an opinion piece criticizing the show for not delving into more complex issues such as sexual assault. However, I stand by the show I created and believe it is exactly what I intended to produce. I value my audience and their opinions. Frankly, I couldn’t care less about critics. Some of them may have changed their minds, but I don’t concern myself with that. Emily in Paris was the most successful half-hour Netflix series ever produced.

As a cinephile, I’d like to delve into the question of whether the series should tackle heavier themes. Interestingly, Copaken brought up the Me Too movement. It was intriguing to see an arc on sexual harassment unfold last season with the character Sylvie (Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu). However, let me clarify that the show wasn’t initially about addressing weighty issues in its first season. It was primarily Emily’s journey, a simple narrative focusing on her perspective. As the series progresses, we as creators feel compelled to explore stories involving other characters, much like a well-crafted show should when it finds success.

Were you concerned about maintaining an appropriate blend of humor and gravity in the show? Since our script went through several revisions, there was a point when it leaned heavily towards the serious side. However, we managed to find a balance where the narrative was effectively delivered without overshadowing the overall flow of the show.

What was your intention for the next installment of Emily in Paris, moving beyond Emily’s fish-out-of-water phase? I aimed to progress past the initial premise and delve deeper into the romantic relationship between Emily and Gabriel, making it feel more authentic. I wanted to steer clear of the love triangle trope — or at least move away from it. It seemed that the show had been focusing on the same characters. However, there are new characters and a new city, Rome, featured in the second half of the season. The series will be divided into two parts.

You’re doing the Bridgerton drop.
They are. Netflix is doing it. I’m not doing it. Yes.

As a film enthusiast, I’m intrigued by the decision to release this upcoming series in two separate months. It feels like a strategic move to pique audience interest and keep them engaged for longer. Instead of binging an entire season at once, viewers will have to wait and return for the second half, creating a sense of anticipation. This approach could potentially reduce churn, as people who sign up for a month to watch Emily in Paris, for instance, would now need to commit to a two-month subscription. It seems like a clever way to boost viewer engagement for any given show.

How long would you want to do the show? I can see two more. Beyond that, I’m not sure.

Are you pleased by its achievement? Regarding your observation about travel, I believe one reason for its popularity might be because people were confined at home and watching Emily in Paris was a means of experiencing some form of travel vicariously.

Remarkably, with platforms like Netflix, you immediately receive feedback through audience numbers. They provide a wealth of figures and statistics now. From the outset, it was clear our show was a hit, although many attributed its popularity to people staying at home due to COVID-19. The viewership expanded in seasons two and three. Having a successful show is rewarding, but it’s not the only indicator of success. Sadly, Younger, which wasn’t on Netflix, didn’t experience this wider audience on a smaller network. However, I’m incredibly proud of that series and can’t wait for its October release on Netflix, where it will reach a larger audience.

I certainly hope our work will receive the recognition it deserves given the positive responses from both critics and viewers. While it may not be as popular as “Emily in Paris”, I’m incredibly proud of what we’ve achieved together on this project. To be honest, I didn’t anticipate “Emily in Paris” becoming such a phenomenon – it was originally produced for the Paramount Network. They were wonderful collaborators who agreed to explore options for streaming platforms. We pitched it to Netflix, and luckily, everything fell into place.

Were you advocating for that choice?

Emily often manages to seamlessly incorporate real-world brands into her narratives due to her marketing agency job. This season, she continues with the Ami campaign, and we also see Vestiaire Collective. Previously, there have been collaborations with McDonald’s, McLaren, and others. Brands often reach out to Emily for involvement, but they can’t interfere with the storyline. For instance, in the first season, Cartier declined to host a party, so we changed the name. The importance of real brands lies in their ability to enhance the sense of reality, but if a brand doesn’t wish to join, we create a fictional counterpart instead. RIMOWA was a great example; they contributed with luggage featuring Pierre’s face, and it fit perfectly into the story. Whether the audience recognizes RIMOWA or not, the tale remains the same if it’s a made-up brand.

Is it included as part of our production costs? Absolutely! It enhances our budget and allows me to create the show I envision. It’s delightful when it aligns with the storyline. For instance, I was ecstatic to discover a McDonald’s in Paris, which offered a taste of home amidst my Parisian adventure. The fact that it originates from Chicago, Emily’s hometown, was an amazing coincidence. It symbolizes the American experience in Paris, reflecting the French people’s love-hate relationship with both the brand and Emily.

Was it difficult to get McDonald’s onboard?No, they wanted to be.

Were there any other brands that declined a collaboration with us? Initially, we had considered partnering with Peloton, but they weren’t interested. I believe their hesitation could be due to a negative experience with another production, so we chose to create a fictitious version of them instead.

You weren’t going to kill off a character on a Peloton bike?
[Laughs.] No.

Spelling had a pilot commitment with Fox; originally, he was slated to do Angels ‘88, a Charlie’s Angels reboot that was canceled.
His first script Doin’ Time on Planet Earth in 1988 was about an alienated teen thinking he might be an alien. He also wrote If Looks Could Kill about a high-schooler who’s mistaken for an agent in 1991.
He continued on as an executive producer on Beverly Hills until 1995.
Much of the cast, including Shannen Doherty, Jennie Garth, Brian Austin Green, Tori Spelling, and Jason Priestley, have dabbled in the nostalgia industry. Up until her death, Doherty was doing a podcast, Let’s Be Clear, where she would often have former castmates on.
Doherty has said that a “horrible” drug-addled marriage to fellow actor Ashley Hamilton was the source of her on-set problems that led to her eventual firing at the end of the fourth season. “It wasn’t anybody’s responsibility but mine, but I certainly wish that I had been sort of sat down and sort of looked at and said, ‘Listen, the end result is going to be this, you are going to get fired because none of us are willing to put up with it anymore,’” she told Priestley on her podcast.
Doherty died after my first conversation with Star. The question prior occurred in the first interview; this one in the second.
He had two shows premiere in 2000: The $treet, an hour-long drama about Wall Street on Fox and Grosse Pointe, a satire of 90210 on the WB. Both were canceled midway through their seasons.
The show was canceled in February 2001 after 17 episodes.
Kim Gatlin’s first book is about a divorced mother of two who moves to a wealthy Dallas suburb that the jacket copy describes as written in a “Desperate Housewives on steroids style.”
A Times piece summed up the French reaction as “ridicule” meaning comical or ridiculous.
Copaken, a staff writer on the first season, was not asked to rejoin the writers’ room. In her memoir Ladyparts, she describes how she felt she was not adequately credited by Star for the work she had done to create Emily in Paris, suggesting that many of the details were taken from her life. Star said the allegations were “blatantly false” and the matter had been adjudicated by the WGA who said the “claims had no merit.”
Ed Cummings, writing for The Independent, gave it one out of five stars for the first season and five out of five for the second, writing, “Emily is critic-proof, and it’s not aimed at grouchy old hacks like me anyway.”
RIP Mr. Big.

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2024-08-14 14:56