‘The Decameron’ Review – Netflix’s Rowdy House Party Is More Than Meets the Eye

These days, the success of a pandemic-set story seems to really depend on timing. While some creators have chosen to lean into a more modern narrative linked to much more recent circumstances, others are looking much further back — using the past as a vehicle to tap into contemporary fears and anxieties. Such is the case with Netflix’s upcoming adaptation of The Decameron, which hails from creator Kathleen Jordan (Teenage Bounty Hunters) as well as executive producer Jenji Kohan (Orange Is the New Black).

Those of us who earned liberal arts degrees — particularly focused on literature — will likely recognize that title as being linked to a collection of short stories written by Giovanni Boccaccio in the 14th century, which centers around a group of men and women who have fled to Florence to escape the Black Plague. While sheltered in the safety of their deserted countryside villa, each member of the party tells their own story, resulting in a total of ten stories (the collection’s name is rooted in the Greek words for “ten” and “day”). The Decameron has been adapted countless times on both stage and screen, though most versions — including the most recent example in 2017’s The Little Hours — tend to only take a page out of one or two stories, rather than the full narrative. While Netflix’s adaptation of The Decameron plays a bit more fast and loose with the overall story, it still embraces the permeating themes of repression, indulgence, debauchery, and the sorrow that accompanies isolation — resulting in one of the best dark comedies of the year thus far.

What Is ‘The Decameron’ About?

In 1348, the Black Death is ravaging the streets of Florence, mostly impacting the poor while the rich shut themselves away in their homes and do all they can to avoid catching the sickness. Initially, it seems no one will be able to escape deadly circumstances — until a small group of nobles and their servants receives an invitation from the mysterious lord Leonardo to join him at his countryside manor, Villa Santa. For the wealthy Pampinea (Zosia Mamet), it’s an opportunity to lay eyes on her betrothed for the first time since their engagement, while her loyal-to-a-fault maid Misia (Saoirse-Monica Jackson) struggles to consider a future that isn’t at her lady’s side. On the flipside of their situation are the servant Licisca (Tanya Reynolds) and her employer Filomena (Jessica Plummer), the former of whom considers this trip to Villa Santa a chance to reinvent her circumstances and become someone totally different, while the latter struggles to define herself in ways that aren’t explicitly tethered to her wealth and privilege.

Once Leonardo’s guests begin trickling in, they all have an opportunity to size each other up. Rich noble Tindaro (Douggie McMeekin), while a single man himself, manages to be rather off-putting solely by virtue of being both a raging hypochondriac and a proto-incel, blaming women and their apparent manipulations for his inability to land a bride. It’s also unclear whether his health obsession is well-founded or a consequence of his charming doctor Dioneo’s (Amar Chadha-Patel) “treatments,” which seem to only exacerbate Tindaro’s symptoms rather than cure them. Rounding out the invited group are married couple Neifile (Lou Gala) and Panfilo (Karan Gill), themselves in a much more platonic arrangement; Neifile’s abiding devotion to God wars with her deep, “unholy” desires, while Panfilo’s commitment to his wife only extends so far.

Although Leonardo is not present to greet his guests when they arrive, they’re all ushered into Villa Santa by its steward, Sirisco (Tony Hale), who does his best to keep the mood light, and house servant, Stratilia (Leila Farzad), whose no-nonsense nature leaves her with little patience for a party of stuck-up nobles. While Villa Santa initially seems like the perfect retreat to wait out the worst of the plague, the isolated setting also serves as a means for the guests to start abandoning societal designations and the expectations that accompany them. Meanwhile, the villa only offers so much protection from the rest of the world, and as inside resources begin to wane, the group is forced to consider whether opening the gates to outsiders — including Leonardo’s particularly handsome scoundrel of a cousin, Ruggiero (played by The Wheel of Time‘s Fares Fares) — could ultimately prove costly.

‘The Decameron’ Succeeds Through Its Wildly Talented Ensemble

It might come as no surprise that a cast of this caliber — anchored by actors like Mamet, Hale, Jackson, and Reynolds — would primarily be a reason a show like The Decameron works, but this particular ensemble is what continually prompts you to press play on the next episode. Mamet, who brought a particularly bubbly energy to the role of Shoshanna on HBO’s Girls, is given free rein to unleash every dimension of her character Pampinea, whose increasingly unhinged antics are only part of what makes The Decameron‘s humor so memorable. As Misia, Jackson wildly vacillates between unsettling positivity and constantly being on the verge of tears, both symptoms of how toxic and manipulative her dynamic with Pampinea has become. Reynolds, who has to toe the tricky tightrope of inhabiting a character who’s pretending to be someone else, deftly navigates all the layers of that haphazard facade, especially as Licisca wrestles with her growing feelings for Dioneo and her complicated devotion to Filomena. Hale always seems to derive delight from playing opposite a big group of actors; here, he’s more of a bumbling emcee struggling to wrangle spoiled cats than a successful master of ceremonies.

In terms of less familiar faces, though, most of The Decameron‘s remaining ensemble has just as much screentime to flex their talent. Gala, whose character Neifile gets arguably the biggest sexual awakening of the entire party, also has her best scene partner in her on-screen husband. Panfilo’s evolution of self-acceptance is more of a B-plot overall, but Gill and Gala’s chemistry also progresses throughout the story, with their characters’ connection going from distanced, begrudging spouses to something more like deeply platonic love. Even McMeekin, who plays one of the most insufferable characters of the lot, gets to lean into more than one element of Tindaro, indicating that first impressions may not always be the correct ones. Plummer’s Filomena, as well, becomes one of the most likable parts of the cast after she starts thinking more for herself rather than waiting passively for someone else to do the hard work on her behalf.

Compared to the rest of the main ensemble, however, Chadha-Patel doesn’t earn as many opportunities to display more range, as Dioneo most often sits somewhere between a smooth-talking cad and someone for other characters to blatantly ogle every time he takes his shirt off (complete with slow motion effect). It’s a shame, considering that his relationship with Licisca, which starts as a series of hookups before real feelings are caught, seems like it’s only just getting started when the narrative finds a means to cut it short.

‘The Decameron’ Leans Equally Into Tragedy and Comedy

You wouldn’t be mistaken if you believed, based on the premise alone, that a show with the bubonic plague as its backdrop would occasionally delve into emotionally heavier territory. The Decameron, which is being billed as a dark comedy series, doesn’t skimp on or shy away from either half of its genre — but that ultimately works in its favor, ensuring that both humor and tragedy pack an equally strong punch when wielded. Understandably, as the season progresses and the stakes continue to rise, there’s much more calamity, which leads to more loss. But The Decameron also doesn’t make light of the dangerous and insulated circumstances this party of nobles finds itself in; in fact, the series finds room for humor amid the darkness, which helps it avoid the pitfall of becoming too depressing. The show’s unique energy is also terrifically rendered through its choice of soundtrack, which includes songs from bands like Sparks and Depeche Mode.

Ultimately, The Decameron feels particularly fitting as a pandemic show for our now, capturing the overwhelming emotions that accompany confinement while using its remote setting to force the characters into crucial moments of reflection about themselves and their relationships with others. While many of us were on lockdown not too long ago, distanced from each other, we had a lot of time to think about who we really wanted to be. Netflix’s The Decameron is spinning a tale that is many centuries removed from the present, but this seemingly raunchy house party comedy has so much more beneath the surface, as raucous, wine-drenched celebration gives way to very real struggle, heartbreak, and, ultimately, something resembling triumph.

The Decameron (2024)

Netflix’s adaptation of The Decameron successfully balances tragedy and humor, resulting in one of the best dark comedy shows so far in 2024.

Pros

• The ensemble is made up of comedy heavyweights, with Zosia Mamet, Saoirse-Monica Jackson, Tanya Reynolds, and Tony Hale especially standing out.
• Lou Gala and Karan Gill are each other’s best scene partners, exploring every facet of Neifile and Panfilo’s platonic arrangement.
• The show’s irreverence is also terrifically captured through its choice of soundtrack, including songs from Sparks and Depeche Mode.

Cons

• Some characters, like Amar Chadha-Patel’s Dioneo, don’t feel as well-defined as others.

The Decameron is now available to stream on Netflix in the U.S.

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