There’s rarely been a better argument for auteur-driven television than “The Get Down.” Though it arrives from a large creative team including Pulitzer-Prize winner Stephen Adly Guirgis, Nas and Catherine Martin, the Netflix series wouldn’t scream Baz Luhrmann more if his name were watermarked on every frame. The show is at its best when he’s behind the camera, but he’s still a presence in each scene in the role of co-creator with Guirgis. Like the director’s “The Great Gatsby” and “Romeo and Juliet,” music propels each moment forward with frenetic editing and detailed costumes. But not since “Moulin Rouge” have songs served such central narrative purposes; Luhrmann’s first foray into TV explores the origins of hip-hop in 1977 New York and features a soundtrack steeped in history as well as original pieces that fit right in their setting.
“The Get Down” doesn’t limit its music to just early hip-hop. Instead, it features a wide variety of genres including soul and disco, with hits that will be familiar to viewers, as well as deeper cuts and new recordings written just for the show. These songs not only provide the rhythm for each scene, but they underscore the setting and the clash of cultures happening in the city. In addition to serving as inspiration for his character, real-life legend Grandmaster Flash is also an associate producer on the show, and input from him and Nas, as well as consultants Kurtis Blow, DJ Kool Herc, Afrika Bambaataa and Rahiem of the Furious Five gives “The Get Down” a feeling of authenticity beyond just a killer soundtrack.
The show opens in 1996, with a performance from fictional rapper Mr. Books, played by “Hamilton” star Daveed Diggs. He’s big enough to headline at Madison Square Garden, and each episode begins with his narration of the story by his younger self, Ezekiel “Zeke” Figuero (Justice Smith), all written by executive producer Nas. His rhymes are intercut with shots from the show and real archive footage of the city in more dangerous times. Rewind to 1977, moving up from Midtown Manhattan to the South Bronx, where teenage Ezekiel is so into writing poetry about Mylene (Herizen F. Guardiola) that he lets breakfast burn. Smart, but an uninspired student, he is being raised by his aunt and her boyfriend after the deaths of his parents, and it’s only writing and his muse that are pushing him forward. He and his friends meet the nearly mythical Shaolin Fantastic (Shameik Moore), who’s part-DJ-in-training, part hustler, and feels like he’s stepped out of a blaxploitation film. Shaolin is learning his craft from the neighborhood’s rising star Grandmaster Flash (Mamoudou Athie), but he recognizes the writing talent in Zeke and declares him his “wordsmith.”
Meanwhile, Mylene is struggling under her strict religious upbringing. She is caught between her ultra-conservative father Pastor Ramon Cruz (Giancarlo Esposito) and her more permissive uncle Francisco Cruz (Jimmy Smits), a charismatic community leader who skirts the law to get things done. She dreams of becoming a disco star, while Ramon insists she only sing church music and stay away from clubs.
Netflix has made the first three episodes (including the 90-minute premiere) of the six-episode first part of “The Get Down” available to critics, with the second half arriving next year. The first installment follows Zeke’s attempts to win Mylene’s heart by finding a rare record of her favorite song, which just happens to also be desired by Shaolin for his own aims. But rather than just serving as a Macguffin, this record not only drives the action forward, but it provides the sound for a key scene later in the episode. The second hour focuses on Mylene’s attempts to become a star, and it brings us into the world of the music business with producer Jackie Moreno (Kevin Corrigan) and record exec Roy Asheton (Eric Bogosian). Shaolin, Zeke and the rest of their “Fantastic Four Plus One” are on their own musical journey as they begin to unravel the mysteries of being a DJ with the help of Flash. Episode three gives us the New York blackout, but somehow that event isn’t the biggest thing that happens in that hour for the characters. The show introduces us to the friends of both Zeke and Mylene, including graffiti artist Dizzee (Jaden Smith), but hopefully it will do more to differentiate each character in the coming episodes since they’re not fully distinct in these early hours.
Out of these, only the first episode was directed by Luhrmann, with Ed Bianchi on the second episode and Andrew Bernstein on the third. The premiere has a frantic pace and kinetic editing, and its speed can leave you a little breathless, like you’re trying to catch up. Slowing things down in later episodes feels like a needed rest if you’re bingeing, but otherwise, it feels like something is missing. There are some Baz-ian flourishes in episodes two and three that remind us whose world we’re in, but they proceed far more slowly and with less energy than the first 90 minutes of the show. “The Get Down” would benefit from a more consistent pace and tone, whether that’s from additional input from Luhrmann or from directors who can better match his trademark style. The production wasn’t easy or cheap, particularly with his increased involvement, but it’s at its most vital when his influence is at its strongest.
There’s a striking amount of attention and love paid to the South Bronx in 1977, from the costumes designed by Jeriana San Juan and Oscar-winner Catherine Martin to the production design by Karen Murphy. Clothing sets apart the disco kids from those birthing hip-hop culture, and they’re both miles away from what their parents and the older generations wear. Each piece isn’t just establishing the show’s period authenticity; it communicates a great deal about each character, particularly Shaolin and his spotless red Pumas, which are a source of wonder and debate by the other young characters in his orbit. Small details – the half-covered book of poetry by Gil Scott-Heron on Ezekiel’s desk, the crack in the kitchen wall in his aunt’s apartment, the signs in store windows – contribute to the show’s overall feel and reward those who are watching closely. It feels like a lived-in space, rather than a historical set created just for 12 hours of drama.
In its first three episodes, “The Get Down” offers a vision of young artists who are desperate to create and find a way outside of their current life in the South Bronx, whether through singing, writing poetry, DJing or tagging. At the heart of the show is the idea that art is essential to life, and these people can no more stop expressing themselves than they can stop breathing. Dizzee falls asleep with a can of Krylon in his hands, while Mylene risks everything she knows to share her voice with the world. We care about these characters already, and part of it is due to the performances of Smith’s Zeke and Guardiola’s Mylene. There’s an earnestness in their longing for each other and for something more than they’ve been given in the lottery of life that helps anchor a show that could be too big in its explosive energy. Meanwhile, Moore’s Shaolin is magnetic, at once wholly believable and otherworldly, all while he’s just trying to get by in his neighborhood.
With its setting in the music world in the ‘70s, “The Get Down” can be compared positively to HBO’s “Vinyl,” another expensive, ambitious drama with auteurs at the helm. But the Netflix show’s stew of hip-hop, soul, comics, kung fu and disco, combined with lead characters we can care about and invest in, makes it feel far more vital and impossible to stop watching. [B+]