The Decameron Review: Netflix's Medieval Dark Comedy Is a Sharp Upstairs-Downstairs Pandemic Satire

Nobody really watched Willow, Lucasfilm's answer to high fantasy series like The Wheel of Time and Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power. But those who did tune into the Disney+ show in 2022 came away with the same consensus: Amar Chadha-Patel, who played a charming rogue by the name of Thraxus Boorman, was one of the best parts of it. Watching him felt like watching a Harrison Ford-esque star rise in real time; like Ford and his '80s contemporaries, Chadha-Patel was equal parts gruff and eager to please (to say nothing of his stunning physique). But Willow clearly only scratched the surface of his potential — ditto for the rest of its talented young cast — and when the series was unceremoniously canceled, it felt like a total waste of resources. 

Boorman truthers have been patient in the intervening years, but with The Decameron, it's safe to say we can finally exhale. Netflix's black comedy gets one thing very, very right by capitalizing on Chadha-Patel's latent star power. In many ways, it's a step up from Willow. Both are irreverent ensemble comedies dressed up as a period farce, each complete with anachronistic needle drops and a heady dose of the bisexual gaze. That The Decameron picks up the ball that Willow (or, if we're being honest, Disney) dropped and grants Chadha-Patel one of his most substantial roles yet is just a bonus. Besides, if we take The Decameron on Netflix's terms — think Love Island, but set in 14th century Italy — then Chadha-Patel is the objectively gorgeous glue that holds this web of envy, lust, and deceit together. 

So yes, before you quibble: It was entirely necessary to open with a treatise on hotness, however frivolous it seems. Real, unabashed hotness is difficult to come by these days as it is — but series like The Decameron are doing what they can to keep thirst alive. If anything, it's but a manifestation of the series' key argument: Even when the world is crashing around us, it's the "frivolous" stuff we cling to first. And believe it or not, that's not always a damnable offense. 

The Decameron does run the risk of being late to a very specific party. Like Glass Onion and others before it, The Decameron — created by Kathleen Jordan — was inspired by the class disparity, general hysteria, and tone deaf celebrity-isms of the coronavirus pandemic. The Netflix series makes a clever choice not to satirize that era directly: It's set against the backdrop of the bubonic plague instead. The Decameron is also loosely inspired by Giovanni Boccaccio's short story collection of the same name, which runs the gamut from erotic farce to straightforward tragedy. You can expect the same range in Jordan's adaptation, effortlessly tied together by its ensemble cast.

8.5

The Decameron

at Netflix

Like

• Lush vistas (they actually filmed in Italy!)
• A hilarious and dialed-in cast

Dislike

• Occasionally loses its momentum
• Wants for a sense of urgency

Our story begins as the Black Death ravages the Italian city of Firenze. Various nobles are holed up in their respective homes, waiting for death to take them, until they're each invited to shelter at the secluded villa of one Visconte Leonardo. Though half his guest list (and indeed, half of Europe) has already succumbed to the plague, the few who have survived are a handful enough. There's Pampinea (Zosia Mamet), Leonardo's shrill, self-conscious betrothed, and her fretful maid Misia (Saoirse-Monica Jackson). Then there's Tindaro (Douggie McMeekin), a bumbling hypochondriac who also just happens to be one of Italy's most eligible bachelors. He's accompanied by his physician, Dioneo (Chadha-Patel), whose various medicines may be doing more harm than good. Rounding out our group are the celibate married couple Panfilo (Karan Gill) and Neifile (Lou Gala), as well as the spoiled noblewoman Filomena (Jessica Plummer) and her servant Licisca (Tanya Reynolds, of Netflix's own Sex Education). When they each arrive at Villa Santa, it's practically empty, kept running by the two servants who managed to avoid the plague. Leonardo himself is apparently out of town procuring wine, which leaves his steward Sirisco (an excellent Tony Hale) to address his guests' every want and need. 

The Decameron settles into an upstairs-downstairs dramedy before too long, with our high-class guests doing everything in their power to reinforce the social hierarchy. Advantageous marriages are still a priority for the villa's unwed guests, even with death knocking at their door, and it's here that the series' Love Island inspiration begins to manifest. The Decameron creates an especially juicy conflict when Licisca arrives shortly before Filomena and seamlessly assumes her mistress' identity. She soon finds herself in a love triangle between Tindaro (the one guy at the villa who can actually deliver her from a life of poverty) and Dioneo (the only one who might see her for who she truly is). Is that kind of clichéd? Sure — but clichés also still have plenty to teach us.

Licisca's masquerade fittingly triggers a ripple throughout the villa's fragile hierarchy. While Pampinea and Misia cleave to protocol and propriety in Leonardo's absence, Dioneo finds the courage to defy Tindaro and pursue a secret tryst with Licisca. Their romance is briefly the emotional heart of the series, especially in how it contextualizes Dioneo's brushes with other villa guests. He's very much a piece of eye candy to everyone but Licisca — something that Chadha-Patel definitely takes in stride — and it manifests a whole lot of tension in Neifile and Panfilo's marriage of inconvenience. 

Obviously, Neifile's piety is a thinly veiled front for a ton of emotional (and sexual) repression. She's convinced that this plague is God's way of punishing those who've strayed from his light, but apart from the odd fervent prayer, she's not dwelling much on her possible role in all that. Suffice it to say she is not God's strongest soldier; while she labors to overcome her unbridled lust for anyone who isn't her husband, Panfilo is busy with anyone but her. His family notably lose their vast fortune at the top of the series, which sees him angling hard for any opportunity that can restore their former glory. Again, it's a trivial pursuit in a series full of misplaced priorities. But The Decameron goes to great lengths not to judge any of its characters: After all, weren't so many of us more or less in a similar position once? 

Pandemic satires will always be tricky, even with the world four years removed from the first wave of lockdown. Even now, a reference to our generation's darkest chapter feels like a narrative risk. The best of those satires find a way to balance the dour backdrop of a plague with "us versus them" caricatures, and The Decameron has definitely learned from the best. But it also finds a way to push beyond shallow commentaries on class and privilege. It may be that it's holding a mirror up not only to the clueless one percent, but to the fed-up working class trod under their feet. Its use of role-reversal tropes and the odd power fantasy make the series a better example of a "class conscious" lockdown drama than similar shows that came before it.

Despite its far-flung setting, The Decameron also feels closer to real life than any of its predecessors in this subgenre. Its archetypes, however ridiculous, are fleshed out and sympathetic at every turn, and its cast is so dialed in that it's impossible to truly take sides against anyone. Each is walking a tightrope between insufferable and painfully, impossibly real; and Mamet, Jackson, Hale, and McMeekin are particular standouts There's so much to like in this series, from its lush design to its offbeat, go-for-broke comedy. But its best merit may be its characters, who (for better or worse) feel like people you'd know. Whether you enjoy the odd comedy of errors (like Kenneth Branagh's lusty adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing) or black comedy in period drag (like Hulu's The Great), The Decameron has something to say — and it's worth braving the existential dread to hear it. 

Premieres: Thursday, July 25 on Netflix
Who's in it: Tony Hale, Zosia Mamet, Saoirse-Monica Jackson, Tanya Reynolds, Jessica Plummer, Amar Chadha-Patel, Lou Gala, Karan Gill, Douggie McMeekin
Who's behind it: Kathleen Jordan (creator)
For fans of: Love Island, Shakespearean satire, Survivor
How many episodes we watched: 8 of 8