On the face of things, Apple TV+’s latest show The Crowded Room has everything going for it. It has a starry cast: Tom Holland, fresh off his Spider Man films! Amanda Seyfried, looking immaculate in 70s period clothing! Sasha Lane, the patron saint of troubled female acting roles!
It also has an excellent scriptwriter and producer; namely Akiva Goldman, who won an Oscar for his screenplay adaptation of A Beautiful Mind.
Best of all, it has an intriguing premise. Unfortunately, it manages to jump the shark so hard that the whole thing has ricocheted off the poor beast’s dorsal fin and ended up in outer space. And to make things worse, the entire thing is hamstrung by a central conceit it would have been better to reveal from the off (and that we’re not allowed to talk about).
So instead, the things we are allowed to talk about: Tom Holland is Danny Sullivan, a troubled young man who ends up in prison after he and his friend fire a gun on a crowd outside the Rockefeller Centre. While awaiting his trial, he finds himself face to face with Rya Goodwin (Amanda Seyfried), with whom he begins to pore back over his past and the choices that led him there.
The trouble is, that’s only scratching the surface of what this show is about. For (as you might expect) all it not what it seems, but the main frustration here – at least on my part – is that The Crowded Room thinks it’s a lot cleverer than it actually is.
In the first half of the show (a full five hours’ worth of television!) we explore the events from Danny’s past from Danny’s point of view, while Rya sits opposite him and makes sage comments such as, “Didn’t that seem a little bit too convenient?” and variations thereof.
It’s the verbal equivalent of a nudge and a wink that curdles any enjoyment, as you wait for the other shoe to inevitably drop. However, the supposed plot twist is extremely clearly telegraphed from the start – so much so that the credits even namecheck the book it’s based on (which itself has a giveaway title).
Added to which, the first half of the show is messy, while the second attempts to pull the rug out from under our feet with the aforementioned plot twist. The story jumps here, there and everywhere; the dialogue is lazy; most of the characters that Danny interacts with are one-dimensional and easily forgotten (including, sadly, Sasha Lane, who plays Danny’s troubled female housemate Ariana).
That’s not to say Holland does a bad job. Quite the opposite, in fact. He imbues his Danny with a shifting kaleidoscope of emotions, letting them all play out across his face – fear, anger, denial, confusion.
Matching him beat for beat is Seyfried, who acts as a calm, self-possessed counterpoint. For the first five episodes, she’s actually a little underused – in fact, we’re not even allowed to reveal her full job title here, for fear of spoiling the show – but as the show goes on, she begins to take on more and more of a pivotal role. Watching the two of them in the questioning room together is like being blinded by the sheer star wattage on display: both of them are acting their socks off.
But the gears are straining; the cogs keep slipping. The Crowded Room ultimately falls foul of its overly complicated plot, trying to string the audience along while at the same time treating them like children.
“I don’t understand,” Rya keeps telling Danny. You and me both, Rya; you and me both.
