‘Ryley Walker & Friends’ And ‘The Broadcast’ Reviews: Two Polar Opposite Duplass Brothers Pilots Overflow With Possibility [SXSW]

It’s unlikely that two shows exist that are as wildly different as these. As the trio behind Duplass Brothers Productions continue to spread their combined wealth of talents over film, television, and streaming, the experience of taking in the pilots to their two latest series, “Ryley Walker & Friends” and, “The Broadcast, “offers a glimpse at projects loaded with as much promise as they are dissimilar.

Once again proving that there remains no boundaries to the genres they wish to explore, Duplass siblings/company founders Mark and Jay, alongside collaborator/company president Mel Eslyn, have decided to venture into the realm of the docu-series with the former title by following indie singer-songwriter Ryley Walker as he offers his viewpoints on the music industry while engaged in conversation with a fellow performer. 

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Opening with a brief montage of Walker over the years overlaid with narration as he reflects on his career in music, the episode then shifts to a cozy wilderness cabin nestled in rural New York; it’s here that Walker spends the remainder of the show’s 22 minutes writing a piece of music with the legendary Bridget St.  John, one of his idols and with whom a strong rapport is immediately established. 

The sensation that the 34-year-old Walker has known the 77-year-old St.  John for his entire life is a tangible one, and when the two put down their guitars for a stroll in the woods does the conversation continue to feel as warm as the fire, St.  John admits to using as her home’s sole heating source. When they’re not exchanging chuckles over the comically long fingernails Walker uses to pick at his instrument’s strings or the wonderful meddling of St. John’s cat, there’s genuine insight escaping their lips any musician can place within their toolkit, for the most part focusing on their thoughts regarding the songwriting process as clips of a younger St.  John find their way scattered throughout. It could be viewed as a shame that the wider audience may be unfamiliar with the collective body of work encompassing these two, and as the credits roll over, Walker and St.  John playing their new song it leaves a strong wish for more. It’s enough to wonder where Walker’s travels will take him next, and if his easily digestible, everyman persona continues to remain on full display, this could be an incredible journey.   [A-]

“The Broadcast “takes a hard shift into scripted territory with something akin to the atmosphere of the 2003 comedy “Nothing” combined with a sci-fi vibe mixed with as many bewildering moments as the pilot seems to allow. Such a casserole might possess the taste of many a question about what exactly we’re about to watch. Still, it’s clear that any desire to know exactly what might really be happening should be waved aside as the episode begins, with a scene of two women, Margaret, 17, and Irene, 52 (writer/directors Natalie Palamides and Courtney Pauroso, respectively), situated in a stark all-white environment, undergoing a test of sorts reminiscent of the personality evaluations in “Ad Astra” or “Blade Runner. “ 

Here, however, this test involves describing whether a piece of matter placed beneath the nose is either cake or excrement, but before these odd moments can continue, an alarm sounds, prompting both to hurry before a makeup mirror as they prep themselves and tear through a battery of vocal warmups. Seconds later, the two have seated themselves behind a similarly featureless news desk, facing straightforward into what one can only presume is a camera while launching into a broadcast meant to inform the public of the goings-on as the ostensibly dystopian world endures another day without, of all things, oceans. Roughly half a century has passed since such a cataclysm occurred, but that won’t stop these anchors from doing their best to keep spirits bright, even if their vocabulary indicates a strange shift in everyday language; instead of “happy, “gay” is used in place, while the word “God” has been replaced by references to a different entity entirely. Unfortunately, their painfully upbeat demeanor and commercial for the only available nutritional source known as “Food” are all interrupted by a glitchy stutter in her speech: is she human? Is this what decades of this lifestyle do to a person? Any musings quickly take a backseat to the following sequence, unquestionably the episode’s most bizarre, in which the ladies sit down to a meal of the aforementioned Food, with a scowling Margaret violently digging into her meal across from an equally unhinged Irene. It will only get more unusual from here, though to delve any further would spoil too much of the intrigue present. However, at minimum, the eventual appearance of a seagull and the subsequent events that unfold are worth mentioning.

If it seems like more time has been spent covering the premiere of “The Broadcast” than that of Ryley Walker’s escapades, that’s because it’s true; there’s something genuinely curious about where it might be headed, much in the same slow burn that “WandaVision” underwent three years prior. Will subsequent episodes offer an equally strange mix of surreal moments with answers as to what happened to the rest of humanity? Will our intrepid anchors continue delivering the news, or will questions about the outside world become too overwhelming to ignore? The avalanche of curiosity weighs heavily throughout this brief pilot, but in the final minutes, the desire to see Episode Two rises to the surface; on its own, this would make for a fine standalone clip, a 22-minute short without connections to anything greater, but knowing that a full series could potentially exist just around the corner is a tantalizing thought. This could be a unique mystery in the vein of varsity-level J.J. Abrams or a collection of absurdity. Whatever the case, if Eslyn and the Duplass’ are at the helm, I’m on board. [B+]