The twelfth installment in Ryan Murphy’s horror anthology AHS: Delicate is the first in the series based on existing source material. The season follows Anna Alcott of Danielle Valentine’s novel Delicate Condition, which received praise as a contemporary spin on Rosemary’s Baby upon its release. Unfortunately, the first episode does not feel inventive or contemporary in any way. It is, thus far, a derivative tale loaded with genre-specific tropes and tricks that stifle any sense of outlandish fun the season could have accomplished.
Cara Delevigne plays a mysterious figure clad in attire best described as gothic meets wealthy city sophisticate. She wears red gloves and smokes a cigarette out of a holder — as if channeling some evil twin version of Audrey Hepburn. She says no words but is always lurking in the corner — catching Anna’s glances as she positions herself ever-so-perfectly in her periphery. Got it. The creepy stalker who we’re not supposed to trust, but maybe should?
Then there’s Ms. Preacher (Julie White) — omniscient and threatening — who is clearly part of something larger. Is she a member of a coven of witches alla Rosemary’s Baby? We wouldn’t be surprised to find she is a part of some cult organization later this season. And, of course, there’s Anna and her husband, played by Emma Roberts and Matt Czuchry, who boast less chemistry than oil and vinegar. Their relationship is no more than cutesy exchanges and supportive declarations. No heat. No passion. No longing.
Most of the show meanders through a sort of suspenseful and broody atmospheric tension that feels forced and lazy. A foreboding sense of mystery should envelop the intriguing story of a woman who comes to believe someone is out to prevent her from conceiving. But, we’re left with a dull thud boasting no more than phoned-in remnants of horror masterpieces from yesteryear. It’s been done, and it’s been done better.
All that being said, when Kim Kardashian appears on screen, something changes. The tone shifts. The overall dramatic drabness gives way to a sort of campy splendor.
Kardashian portrays Alcott’s publicist and best friend, Siobhan Corbyn. She’s a ruthless yet supportive confidante and media expert whose hair and makeup are always divine — not a hair out of place and teeth whitened to translucence— which semi-successfully play off her existing identity and reputation in the public sphere.
If you’re going to cast Kardashian — whose face alone is virtually a product of rampant consumerism — a tongue-in-cheek role that alludes to her mom-ager Kris Jenner and her existence as an influential beauty is a clever way to soften the landing for a woman whose line delivery falls somewhere below the CW.
She dishes out unexpected and ruthless one-liners with a sense of nonchalance and apathy. She introduces viewers to her character with the line, “Tell [them] to suck my cl*t” and works her way through unexpected attacks on existing A-listers and commentary on the culture surrounding fame. She boasts a sort of slick detachment even when commenting on the depths of misogyny and the monstrous burden that is female celebrity — clicking away on her cellphone as if the digs she’s dishing out are easy-to-digest tidbits of common knowledge.
She’s giving Keeping Up With the Kardashians meets low-budget CW suspense story. And, we’re sort of slurping it up like a Big Gulp — delicious but lacking any substance. It’s exhausting being better than everyone,” she says with a superior sigh. Didn’t your acting teacher tell you that signing cannot stand in for an emotion…oh wait. It’s trash on every technical level, but it’s also the show’s only figment of self-awareness — a character who, in her two-dimensionality and banal portrayal, is not futilely trying to rise to the level of Murder House or Coven. AHS has become the horror comfort food of spooky season…own it.
Kim Kardashian is not a good actress. Rather, the exact opposite. She alternates between approximately three facial expressions and her tone is impressively one-note. No matter what she says — no matter the depth of the remark or the emotional underbelly of the declaration — she gives a mix of sass, supremacy, and jaded objectivity. Is this how the character was written? Or, is this all Kardashian is capable of? A mix of both?
She’s so emotionless that it’s refreshing up against the forced intensity akin to the others. She’s so antithetical to those performing alongside her that she provides a needed reprieve from the DRAMATICS.
Kardashian is seizing our attention, not because she’s giving an Emmy-worthy performance, but because she’s playing Kim Kardashian playing Siobhan. This is likely part script and part unintentional consequence of her subpar performance talent, but it keeps us engaged. She keeps us waiting for the next ridiculous line that she’ll serve up cold. If AHS simply decided to fully embrace the absurdity its recent casting demands, it could find a home among the campy horror creations many hold dear. Instead, the newest season is already striking a tonally incongruous and uninspired chord.
