Delevingne Adrift: "AHS: Delicate" Mistakes Camp for Chills
- Editorial Team
- Oct 23, 2024
- 2 min read
There's a scene in "American Horror Story: Delicate," the latest installment in Ryan Murphy's anthology of the macabre, where Emma Roberts, playing a rising actress named Anna, finds herself trapped in a surreal photoshoot. Giant, grotesque babies crawl around her, their eyes hollow, their movements unsettling. It's meant to be terrifying, a descent into the darkest corners of motherhood and celebrity. It's not. It's silly. Laughably so.
And that, unfortunately, sums up the problem with "Delicate." The series, split into two parts, seems to want to say something profound about the anxieties of women, particularly those in the public eye. The pressure to conceive, the fear of losing control, the ever-present male gaze – these are all themes the show attempts to tackle. But somewhere between the over-the-top imagery and the clunky dialogue, the message gets lost. It's like watching someone try to make a soufflé with a blowtorch. A lot of heat, very little substance.
Which brings us to Cara Delevingne, the model-turned-actress who plays Anna's best friend, a whirlwind of chaotic energy named – wait for it – Sienna. Delevingne, with her signature eyebrows and air of perpetual cool, has always been a fascinating presence. But here, she seems adrift, unsure of what tone to strike. At times, she veers into camp, her line delivery dripping with irony. Other times, she aims for emotional depth, only to fall short. The result is a performance that feels strangely disconnected, like a beautiful melody played on an out-of-tune piano.
I remember seeing Delevingne a few years ago at a fashion show in Paris. It was Chanel, of course, and she closed the show in a cloud of white tulle, her face a mask of impassiveness. She moved with a kind of effortless grace, the embodiment of cool detachment. It was mesmerizing. But acting, as anyone who has ever attempted it will tell you, requires more than just presence. It demands vulnerability, a willingness to strip away the facade and reveal the raw nerves beneath. And that, I'm afraid, is something "Delicate" never quite manages to do.
The show isn't without its moments. Kim Kardashian, in a surprisingly self-aware turn, plays a version of her own public persona – a shrewd businesswoman who understands the power of image. And there are flashes of the old "American Horror Story" magic, particularly in the first few episodes, where the lines between reality and nightmare blur in unsettling ways. But ultimately, "Delicate" feels like a missed opportunity. It's a show with all the right ingredients – a talented cast, a timely premise, a penchant for the grotesque – that somehow fails to come together into a satisfying whole.
Perhaps it's the fragmented nature of the narrative, the way the show jumps between different timelines and perspectives, that ultimately undermines its impact. Or maybe it's simply that the horror genre, with its reliance on shock and awe, isn't the best vehicle for exploring the nuances of female experience. Whatever the reason, "Delicate" leaves you with a sense of disappointment. It's like biting into a candy apple only to discover that the apple is rotten. All that glitters is not gold, and all the fake blood in the world can't disguise a lack of genuine chills.
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