Tony Hale is hot now. Yes, the beloved character actor has been adored for his gleefully goofy performances as the motherboy Buster Bluth in Arrested Development, the comically catering Gary Walsh in Veep, and the proudly trashy Forky in Toy Story 4. But it took playing a surly steward in Netflix’s The Decameron for Hale to go from silly to sexy. Yet this isn’t the only reason you should check out the Black Death–set period dramedy from creator Kathleen Jordan.
Admittedly, pestilence-plagued 14th-century Italy might not sound a likely setting for a sexy summer treat. But The Decameron proves an achingly relevant tale about yearning for pleasure in a time of ravenous disasters. Among those pleasures is a cast that boasts Girls‘ Zosia Mamet, Derry Girls‘ Saoirse-Monica Jackson, Sex Education‘s Tanya Reynolds, The Wheel of Time‘s Amar Chadha-Patel, and my latest all-consuming crush, Tony “Hey Brother” Hale. But that’s not all. Based on 14th-century Italian author Giovanni Boccaccio’s collection of short stories — also known as “The Human Comedy” — The Decameron is sure to titillate and thrill with its tales of lust, love, betrayal, and murder.
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If that’s not enough to entice you, here are five reasons you must make the eight one-hour episodes of The Decameron your next binge-watch.
The Decameron is a soap opera, but silly.
Credit: Giulia Parmigiani / Netflix
When plague makes crowded cities unsafe (and reeking of corpse decay), a batch of conceited aristocrats flees to the country estate of a fun-loving viscount, who promises good times, great food, plenty of wine, and party games (which might be period accurate, but are definitely hilariously stupid). (Think the Kardashians. Or Glass Onion.) Among those invited are his bossy bride-to-be Pampinea (Zosia Mamet), his spoiled-rotten cousin Filomena (Jessica Plummer), a hypochondriac/historian named Tindaro (Douggie McMeekin), and the sexually frustrated married couple, Panfilo (Karan Gil) and Neifile (Lou Gala). But beneath all their finery and etiquette are plenty of secrets.
Whether dabbling in adultery, sacrilege, or murder, these ancient aristocrats give modern audiences plenty to drop jaw over. With secrets spilling forth in each episode, series showrunner Kathleen Jordan (Teenage Bounty Hunters) keeps the suspense of discovery madcap with a broadly comic tone and an anachronistically hip soundtrack that harkens back to the hilariously chaotic ’70s soap opera parody Soap. But rather than aping current soaps, The Decameron plays more like a quirky commentary on unscripted shows in which absurdly wealthy socialites (or “housewives”) reveal themselves to be blithely (or bitingly) selfish fools.
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Eat the rich vibes with schadenfreude delights.
Credit: Giulia Parmigiani / Netflix
Naturally, every country estate worth its garden maze must have servants. And far from the nobly obedient lot of Downton Abbey, The Decameron‘s service people are on the brink of burning this toxic power dynamic down. Among them is surly cook Stratilia (Leila Farzad); viciously devoted handmaiden Misia (Saoirse-Monica Jackson); suspiciously patient doctor Dioneo (Amar Chadha-Patel); big-hearted Licisca (Tanya Reynolds), who gets a dubious boost up the social ladder; and ever-harried steward Sirisco (Tony Hale).
The absurdity of the oblivious aristocrats is heightened by their interactions with these working men and women, who have had to be diligent, cunning, and even beguiling to survive. As the have-nots fight to have a bit more, there’s a delicious pleasure in watching the haves get taken down a peg, or pitched down a well, or lightly poisoned. As some of the “help” manages to help themselves — beyond being a vicarious thrill — it’s easy to root for them, even when their means are brutal.
The Decameron is unapologetically horny.
Credit: Giulia Parmigiani / Netflix
Just because the world is going to hell in a handbasket right outside your door doesn’t mean you’re not horny as hell. Long before COVID lockdowns had the lovelorn and lusty turning to online dating and hookup apps, The Decameron was weaving tales of sex amid survival. Sure, a time of pestilence that includes pustules doesn’t sound hot, but in the “uninfected countryside” there are plenty of opportunities for dirty thoughts.
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The earliest longing comes from married Neifile, who is devoted to celibacy but can’t keep from ogling every inch of bared male flesh cast before her hungry eyes. While several men will snag her attention, The Decameron revels most in leering at the doctor Dioneo, who is not only dashing but also frequently takes off his shirt to bear his beefy chest. If you swooned over Darcy coming out of that pond, The Decameron is coming for you with a wet scene of its own. And that’s just foreplay.
Tony Hale is hot now.
Credit: Netflix
Yes, Chadha-Patel is undoubtedly regarded as the show’s biggest smoke show — literally declared “objectively alluring.” He’s not only baring his brawn but also rakishly wooing several of the lusty ladies at this country getaway. But Hale gets a romance arc of his own that may have you seeing the funnyman in a new light. Plus, his period look, which includes long, dark locks and a full beard with streaks of dignified silver, gives the actor a debonair glow-up.
At first, his Sirisco shows shades of Gary; he’s an anxious but deeply devoted servant, dedicated to keeping his master happy and revered — no matter what personal pains that entails. But in episode 3, his clownish servitude fades in a moment of whispered vulnerability. And what might have been a brief peek behind the curtain of his people-pleasing facade becomes a husky-voiced seduction, first stuttering, then confident. While this tryst proves short-lived, it lights a fire in Sirisco (and us, his audience) that burns across the rest of the series. Sure, Hale is funny as expected. But in a breathy sincerity, he reveals an enticing new side that can’t be ignored or forgotten.
Growth.
Credit: Netflix
While many among this merry crew of rich jerks start off as absolutely insufferable, The Decameron isn’t one-note or cynical. Over the course of eight episodes, these characters will grow and change — some for the better, blossoming under the warm glow of newfound love, while others grow more and more rotten. It’s thrilling to see who will recognize their own flaws and who will double down. But without giving away spoilers (for a 671-year-old short story collection), the greatest twists here might well be who is redeemed. And the greatest thrills come in a finale in which some of the most awful get exactly what they deserve.
How to watch: The Decameron is now streaming on Netflix.
