Becky Green is a social media obsessed outsider with a bit of a stalking problem. Mira Harberg is a coddled actress with a dramatic love life and a film project about to go off the rails. You know the types.
In Amazon Studio's "Chloe," Becky (Erin Doherty) uses her tech savvy and grifting skills to infiltrate a group of upper-crusty friends for her own ends. In HBO's "Irma Vep," Mira (Alicia Vikander) juggles ex-lovers, crazy co-stars and showbiz politics while jetting around Paris sporting a series of casually fabulous outfits. You know the drill.
Lucky for you, the people behind these two under-the-radar gems did not get the memo about the kinds of shows "Chloe" and "Irma Vep" were supposed to be.
Instead of cranking out a standard unreliable-narrator thriller or an oh-so-meta piece of Hollywood navel gazing, "Chloe" mastermind Alice Seabright ("Sex Education") and "Irma Vep" auteur Olivier Assayas ("Clouds of Sils Maria") go their own, weird ways. Like their unpredictable heroines and the quicksilver actresses who play them, "Chloe" and "Irma Vep" have a lot happening beneath their shimmering surfaces, and watching their stories unfold is the trip of the summer.
If you loved Doherty as the sardonic, no-bull Princess Anne in "The Crown," you will be equally enthralled by what the shape-shifting actress does as Becky, a working-class Brit who becomes obsessed with the mysterious death of a woman she follows on Instagram. You will also be impressed by the many ways in which Becky and "Chloe" are not what they seem.
When we first meet Becky, she is using her boring temp job as a source of free office supplies and unlimited scrolling time. Judging by what she does to her boss' coffee, it is also a nice outlet for her anger issues, which are considerable.
And really, who can blame her for being ticked? For reasons that are never spelled out, Becky is back living in a dumpy apartment with her mother, who is descending into dementia. (Lisa Palfreyis heartbreakingly good in the role). Becky's only escape from creditors, landlords and bad medical news is the glamorous social media world belonging to the fabulous Chloe Fairbourne (Poppy Gilbert) and her party-hopping, brunch-throwing, fashion-forward friends.
Don't weep for Becky just yet. In addition to being an angry outsider, Becky is a crafty opportunist. If she can't live Chloe's good life, she can at least invade it.
After Becky finds out that the object of her online obsession has died under suspicious circumstances, she goes from bluffing her way into posh cocktail parties to creating a whole new identity. With the help of Chloe's very informative social-media feed and her own con-artist's knack for observing, adapting and fabricating on the fly, Becky worms her way into Chloe's tightknit circle of rich friends, the better to dig up the truth behind the golden girl's tragic death.
Not surprisingly, there was more to Chloe's life than photogenic moments with her arty friends and her blue-blood husband, Elliot (Billy Howle, "Under the Banner of Heaven"). But the better reveal is that "Chloe" is so much more than an old-fashioned whodunit with new-fangled technology.
As Becky finds out more about the messy lives of Chloe and her friends, we find out why she cares so much. And as writer/director Seabright and the fearless Doherty tunnel into the life of betrayal and tragedy that turned Becky into the headcase she is now, "Chloe" becomes a deeply satisfying study of friendship, mother-daughter bonds and the shadows lurking in the corners of all those pretty pictures.
The mood is much lighter in the world of "Irma Vep," where the complications are served with a magnum of the best Champagne and a heaping cone of crispy pommes frites. It is frothy, sophisticated and tres addictive.
Based on Assayas' 1996 film of the same name, this eight-episode series for HBO is about the galactic highs and sub-basement lows of being a creative person in a mercenary world. It is also about jealousy, fame and ambition. And love. Let us not forget love.
In the series, as in the film, an artistically brilliant and mentally fragile director named Rene (the endearingly frazzled Vincent Macaigne) is attempting to make a modern version of a 1915 French serial called "Les Vampires." The serial — which really exists and is used beautifully here — is about a gang of criminals whose muse is the seductive Irma Vep, a sexy villain who steals jewels and dabbles in kidnapping and murder, all while gliding around in a form-fitting black catsuit.
Rene's low-budget version stars the charismatic American actress Mira Harberg (Vikander) as Irma Vep, a role she takes with the hope of expanding her career beyond the comic-book action movies that have made her famous. And as the disaster-plagued production grinds on — a toast to the scene-stealing Lars Eidinger as Mira's crack-smoking train-wreck of a co-star — Mira discovers that the catsuit fits her in more ways than one.
Whether Mira is walking through walls, sleeping with the wrong people or talking Rene off his creative ledge, Vikander plays her as a star with heart, brains and — shockingly — common sense. She and the soulful Macaigne make the show's many conversations about the power of art and the cost of creativity feel warm-blooded, as opposed to finger-wagging. It is a graceful, witty performance, and the best thing Vikander has done since "Ex Machina."
Throughout the series, Mira is haunted by her attraction to an old girlfriend, Rene is haunted by the ghost of his still-alive ex-wife, and both of them are wrestling with their artistic identities. Who are they now? Who do they want to be? And why does it all have to be so hard?
The questions "Irma Vep" poses are knotty, but the series is as stylish and airy as the scarf one throws on before heading into the Paris night on the back of a shiny scooter. It feels as good as it looks.
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"Chloe" is streaming on Prime Video, and "Irma Vep" is streaming on HBO Max.
ABOUT THE WRITER
Karla Peterson is a columnist for The San Diego Union-Tribune.
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