Summary
Visually lavish and brimming with ideas, this ambitious ballet series dances between brilliance and comedic chaos—captivating at times, but it doesn’t really find its footing.
Following the massive success of The Marvellous Mrs. Maisel, powerhouse duo Amy Sherman-Palladino and Daniel Palladino likely had their pick of projects. It’s fitting, then, that they’ve returned to a familiar passion: ballet—the focus of their one-season wonder Bunheads, a cult favourite about a ballet school, and the lifelong teaching love of Gilmore Girls’ Miss Patty.
Yet from its French title, the rapid multilingual editing, and its tangle of plots and acerbic characters, ÉTOILE is far less immediately accessible than the Palladinos’ previous shows. At its core, the series follows two ballet schools—one in New York, the other in Paris—respectively led by Jack McMillan (Luke Kirby) and Geneviève Lavigne (Charlotte Gainsbourg). In an attempt to save their struggling institutions, the pair agree to swap their star pupils for a season, setting off a chain reaction of rivalries and entanglements.
ÉTOILE is arguably Sherman-Palladino’s most ambitious series to date, shot on location in both New York and Paris. It boasts lavish sets, impeccable costuming, a strikingly modern title sequence—and a stubborn refusal to conform to any contemporary expectations for serialised storytelling. Gainsbourg and Kirby make for an engaging pair of leads, with the former leaning into more comedic beats than we’re used to seeing from her.
The problem is that it isn’t clear who the audience is. In fact, it’s possible Sherman-Palladino isn’t sure either. You’ll scarcely have time to wonder how such an esoteric premise even got the green light, as there’s simply so much going on. Star French dancer Cheyenne Toussant (Lou de Laâge) has a chaotic energy, and her unpredictable character turns make her the Paris Gellar every show needs. That said, this is a world full of Paris Gellars—and there’s a reason there was only ever one.
Her counterbalance is the usually wonderful Simon Callow, here playing an eccentrically wicked billionaire benefactor. Yet beyond his sinister press conference takeovers, offscreen kidnapping attempts, and ecological disasters, the show doesn’t quite know what to do with him—aside from throwing him like a hand grenade into scenes. At times, we even forget he exists.
Fans of the Palladinos might come in expecting whip-smart, rat-a-tat dialogue, and it is here—just not always where you want it. The sharp banter surfaces in flashes, like when the Parisian dancers threaten to strike in a flurry of fast-talking absurdity that’s classic Sherman-Palladino. But more often, it’s scattered across overlapping narratives and multilingual exchanges that feel more muddled than meaningful. Sherman-Palladino clearly revels in language, flitting between English, French, and sometimes a third just for good measure. In the end, the dialogue we usually love becomes just another layer in the show’s barrage of things—more out of obligation than function.
The split locations certainly expand the world beyond the ballet stage—a place we spend only small amounts of time exploring, despite the elegance and discipline the show’s title evokes. Yet this broader scope also creates an impossibly hyperlinked web of subplots and side characters. Rich kid Mishi Duplessis (Taïs Vinolo), unhappy about being sent back from New York to Paris, is forced to live with Cheyenne’s mother. Meanwhile, ‘weird’ choreographer Tobias Bell (Gideon Glick) develops a working relationship—perhaps something more—with French dancer Gabin (Ivan du Pontavice).
It’s almost as if everyone who was anyone wanted to work on the show after the Maisel success—and no one was turned away. Gilmore regulars Kelly Bishop and Yanic Truesdale have recurring roles. David Haig hangs around sputtering into an oxygen tank as a glorified extra. SuSu Li (LaMay Zhang), the daughter of a theatre cleaner caught sneaking into dance lessons at night, is literally tacked onto the end of episodes before being neglected entirely for most of the season.
All of this might be forgivable if the show stuck the landing, but instead of a controlled demi-plié, it’s all feet and knees. At times, the trademark wit of the creative team shines through, and there’s genuine chemistry between the core cast. But more often, it’s a grab bag of scenes that feel like they were made for a singular audience.
The final two episodes gesture toward a kind of thematic cohesion, but they land with more chaos than clarity. One of two contrasting, striking dance sequences in the season finale even appears to deconstruct the show’s relationship to structure and coherence itself.
It’s Sherman-Palladino legend that she gave up a career as a professional dancer for a shot at staff writing on Roseanne, the show that launched her career. ÉTOILE may well be her most personal project—an exploration of that sliding-doors moment, or a kind of justice for the untimely demise of Bunheads. But as a first season, it plays more like an extended pilot: full of promise, bursting with style, and constantly trying on moods and motifs like so many hats. And that, for better or worse, might be the most Sherman-Palladino thing of all.
2025 | US | DIRECTORS: Amy Sherman-Palladino, Daniel Palladino | WRITERS: Amy Sherman-Palladino and Daniel Palladino (also creators), Jen Kirkman, Isaac Oliver, Thomas Ward | CAST: Luke Kirby, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Lou de Laâge, Gideon Glick, David Alvarez, Ivan du Pontavice, Taïs Vinolo, David Haig | DISTRIBUTOR: Amazon Prime Video | EPISODES: 8
