The Los Angeles suburb of Calabasas — tucked into the foothills of the Santa Monica Mountains on the San Fernando Valley’s far western edge — is, in many ways, ground zero for reality TV as we know it. This is the home of the Kardashians, the genre’s first family, whose rise to fame familiarized the world with the small city’s cavernous McMansions and upscale strip malls. The producers of the new Netflix series “Calabasas Confidential” are betting there’s still some ore left in this gold mine, and have assembled a small army of 20somethings in the hopes at least one of them will turn out to be the next Kylie or Kim. Based on the first season’s eight episodes, such a vertiginous ascent seems unlikely. Then again, so did that of the stars’ obvious role models.
The ostensible premise of “Calabasas Confidential” is that a group of young adults have returned to their hometown after dispersing for college, reigniting old flames and resentments. But the fatal flaw of this setup is its plausibility: unlike a nuclear family or a workplace, the stars in the constellation of “Calabasas Confidential” don’t feel organically bound together. Perhaps the cast will, given enough time to bond on and off camera, start feeling like people who voluntarily interact and form genuine relationships. Until then, there’s a forced atmosphere to every group hang and date, with an ensemble so large that famous relatives and sprawling floor plans have to substitute for a center of gravity.
The most compelling storyline in “Calabasas Confidential” is therefore the one that feels most rooted in authentic emotion. Jemma may not be an already-successful influencer, nor the child of a famous musician or NBA player, like some of her castmates — but her hurt and anger toward her high school ex Dylan, an unrepentant fuckboy nicknamed “Douchebag Dylan” who’s taken to cowboy cosplay like Stetson hats and toothpicks in sobriety, comes off as very real. When Dylan starts casually dating one of Jemma’s close friends around the season’s halfway point, her betrayal is apparent (or at least well-performed) enough to provide some of the momentum that was previously missing.
But Dylan and Jemma are just two of a whopping 14 cast members on “Calabasas Confidential,” and the rest fail to stand out against a sunny backdrop of coffee shops (the local chain La La Land gets a conspicuous bit of product placement) and photo shoots. Preston, the son of ‘90s basketball legend Scottie Pippen, likes to bake and drives a Cybertruck; Hercy, the son of one rapper (Master P) and the half brother of another (Romeo), wants to play NCAA-level ball. At the ripe old age of 25 and a rumored association with Drake in her dating history, YouTube star Suede is the designated elder stateswoman, although her insulting someone for living in the Valley on a show called “Calabasas Confidential” sort of gives the game away. Would Suede even bother driving over the hill, let alone spending time with her supposed friends, if there weren’t a television crew waiting to greet her?
These supporting players were some of the few I remembered after binging the full season. Others feel interchangeable, like two petite, athleisure-clad women named Emma and Emilie, or abruptly introduced, like two chain-sporting guys we’ve never seen before who make a dramatic entrance to a midseason party. (One of them immediately starts making out with Emilie, seemingly for the sole purpose of giving her something to argue about with a friend.) Characters constantly complain about petty fights and immature behavior being “so high school,” which is rich — reassembling a high-school peer group is what this whole enterprise is supposedly about!
“Calabasas Confidential” is attempting to enter a rich lineage of L.A.-based reality shows. There’s the Kardashian shows, of course, but also “Selling Sunset” (a house tour scene suggests an intra-Netflix crossover could be in the offing) and “The Hills.” Uncomfortable as it can be to contemplate the latter show as its primary villain wages a terrifyingly plausible campaign for L.A. mayor, it’s a useful point of comparison for portraying the cusp of adulthood in the city of angels. In following Lauren Conrad from “Laguna Beach” to the next county north, “The Hills” had a familiarity on its side that “Calabasas Confidential” lacks.
When this cast talks about their old grudges and loyalties, it’s hard to care, because we weren’t there to witness them. “Calabasas Confidential” is like watching someone else’s high-school reunion — the same awkward hellos exchanged among now-strangers, just with more lip filler and TikTok memes than average. (The frequent discussion of social media posts is not exactly the most engaging plot from a visual point of view.) As someone who didn’t attend their own milestone gathering due to the pandemic, this show didn’t make me feel like I missed much.
All eight episodes of “Calabasas Confidential” are now available to stream on Netflix.