'The Studio' episode 4 review—"The Missing Reel"

Disclaimer - This article reflects the writer's opinion. Reader's discretion is advised.

After watching Episode 4 of The Studio, one thing that's very evident about Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg’s Apple TV+ comedy is that it simply isn’t a program about the movie industry — it represents the movie industry.

The product is a mix of neurotic, delusional, and unreasonably costly, and can mock itself in the mirror in a moment of sanity before it transforms back into a dreadful scream about the aspect ratio.

And because of “The Missing Reel,” the series has gained momentum, and it’s been surreal all along, unveiling its love for film noir, fourth-wall-breaking comedy lines. It’s a bit self-indulgent, indeed—a trait of any good Hollywood player, but, like them, it’s done with panache.

A Love Letter to Film… or a Breakup Text?

The main thing about this episode is the fact that a film roll is nowhere to be found. Yes, it's a real film roll - made of celluloid, a dusty, flammable substance; the ribbon of cinematic history that nerds and movie buffs like Quentin Tarantino and Paul Thomas Anderson treat as something very dear to them, such as a security blanket sewn by Kubrick himself.

In Rolling Blackout, Olivia Wilde (in a satirical version of herself who may be ridding herself of some Don’t Worry Darling demons) is now getting behind the camera to direct a cool Chinatown-style neo-noir, shot only on celluloid. That idea had to happen, right?

The tenth and the last reel - the one that includes a hard-hitting showdown and Wilde’s own personal cameo - disappears all of a sudden, and that’s when panic attacks start.

From the beginning, who was it that kept on tormenting us by insisting on shooting this analog project in the year 2025? None other than our favorite, affectionately called the exec, Matt.

He is portrayed as the perfectly wrong guy with his crazy ideas and manners, as Seth Rogen is an expert in - the one who 'thinks he is the only one who is responsible for the future of films.'

When the hair-raising tenth reel shockingly disappears, Matt doesn't have to say that he should notify the studio or phone the insurance company. That's not how he does it.

Without further ado, he goes full-on noir private detective, wearing a trench coat, recording hard-boiled voiceovers on his phone, and dragging his only-too-willing-to-help-him-under-any-circumstances second-in-command, Sal, to have a good old-fashioned L.A. investigator's session.

Detective Parody or Cosplay Crisis?

The episode makes a daring move to turn into the very genre it's lambasting, however, it is too much for the other some and becomes a trope far away.

In contrast to previous The Studio episodes that used cinematic techniques to softly display their themes, "The Missing Reel" exposes the full meta. We're talking fedoras, slow pans, back-alley interrogations, and yes, Seth Rogen channeling Bogart by way of… well, Seth Rogen. Where were the flirtatious bacilli?

The question of whether this is the saturation point of the parody depends on the audience’s humor tolerance. Hence, the show, leading reviewers opined, had been so promising in the elaboration of the minutest details of the episodes; mainly radioactive notes, those awkward moments of creative feedback, and wrap-party rivalries.

However, the show is turned along the path of being a full-on pastiche, which is no surprise; nothing is left to the audience to imagine. The reality of the scene is altered, and it is, consequently, not a good thing.

Nevertheless, despite having Walter Mitty vibes, the detective story has a certain charm. The groundless and inconclusive nature of the mystery is slowly introduced, and the eventual unmasking, though perhaps not as classy as Fincher’s, still has its own charm.

Star Turns & Self-Awareness

Let’s discuss Wilde and Efron. Both of them gave performances filled with biting satire that fully matched their public images and, at the same time, subverted them.

Wilde’s super-in-charge fashionista, yelling at her flustered staff, “Fine is not good enough!”, sounds like a wickedly ironic ref to the real-life disaster that overshadowed her recent directorial work. Whether intended or not (glances, it’s totally intended), this is a self-pityiness cavalcade. It’s something that soothes, it’s the dress, and it’s funny.

On the other hand, Zac Efron performs with an unexcitable deadpan and an edge as sharp as a razor. The ironic line that kills me the most is when he tells a story about Matt driving a vintage Corvette while stating that there is no money for the wrap party.

Oh, and by the way, that Corvette issue, sorry, the episode leaves us with a purely chef's kiss scene, exactly: the found reel unwinding its length nicely across the street, accompanied by Jerry Goldsmith’s Chinatown score swelling.

This is the purest form of cinema, no doubt about it. Then, of course, followed by Matt's act of selling his Corvette to Efron for peanuts just to finance the reshoots. Tragic. Poetic. Funny.

Episodic Is the New Binge

Most comedies on streaming services are designed to be as lengthy as a movie but with constant punchlines. However, The Studio is unique in that it dares to be episodic. Every chapter sets up a crisis, takes it to the level of absurdity, and resolves it with a punchline, while still keeping it tied to the industry or the characters.

It's true, "The Missing Reel" may not be a classic like The Oner, but it's cool since a notable average also contains some singles to go with the home runs.

Final Take

I'll definitely give this episode a 10/10 ⭐

“The Missing Reel” may not be a flawless piece of work; however, that is not what is expected of it. It’s full of wit, properly made, and aware of its own self-indulgence. Similar to the film bros, it seeks to parody, it is working very hard, and quite frankly? That diligence pays off.

This part is probably the point in the series where The Studio is no longer rushing and begins to proceed at a slower pace. Nevertheless, it is in a fedora and wingtips, voice-overing its every step like a king. And I still gladly join the adventures.