There’s no murder in The Five-Star Weekend, but in every other respect, Peacock’s eight-episode series (July 9) covers all the bases of a modern show targeted at female viewers.
Secrets, lies, death, adultery, drugs, disease, injuries, scandals, parent-child frictions, career catastrophes, sexual awakenings, and rekindled romances are all a part of this juicy, feel-good melodrama, whose star-studded cast helps elevate a story that, in spirit if not specifics, has been seen before. Adapted from the novel by Elin Hilderbrand, the “queen of beach reads,” it reconfirms that this female-centric streaming subgenre is still going strong.
Hollis Shaw (Jennifer Garner) is a popular food blogger whose life is torn asunder by the car accident death of her husband, Matthew (Josh Hamilton). When her attempt to power through this tragedy leads to a Today show breakdown, her publicist, Chelsea (Vella Lovell), suggests a plan: get together with friends from every phase of her life at her Nantucket vacation home.
Adrift and desperate, Hollis takes Chelsea’s advice and invites the four women who mean the most to her: childhood pal Tatum (Chloë Sevigny), college BFF Dru-Ann (Regina Hall), fellow suburban mom Brooke (D’Arcy Carden), and internet acquaintance Gigi (Gemma Chan), an airline pilot whom Hollis has grown close to in the aftermath of her spouse’s demise.
The Five-Star Weekend is set at a palatial waterfront estate that would make Nancy Meyers jealous, and its characters are a colorfully diverse bunch. Unlike Hollis, Tatum never left Nantucket, and her profane townie attitude puts her at odds with brash urban sports agent Dru-Ann. Brooke, meanwhile, is a cheery and corny homemaker whose online shopping, showy outfits, and non-stop chatter scream “overcompensating.”
From the moment they gather, not-so-passive-aggressive tensions flare. Nonetheless, they’re all dedicated to Hollis, whose habit of avoiding life’s pricklier elements by focusing on making everything picture-perfect wonderful is plain for all to see—including her college-student daughter Caroline (Harlow Jane), who’s had a tough time coping with the loss of her dad and whose relationship with her mother is strained.
Developed by This Is Us writer Bekah Brunstetter, The Five-Star Weekend draws its characters in sharp lines. And if they’re never more than two-dimensional, they’re embodied with a boldness and flair that makes them entertainingly at-odds types.
Between Hall’s alpha aggressiveness, Sevigny’s resentful hostility, and Carden’s insecure positivity, the show creates conflict in various directions, and its actresses handle their roles with vigor and humor. The least interesting turn winds up being Chan’s, if only because her part is the most plot device-y of the group. Yet Gigi’s caginess is emblematic of a story that’s all about big sensational revelations—both for these vacationing individuals and for audiences.
Gigi is more than she appears in The Five-Star Weekend, although she’s far from the sole one with issues, as Brunstetter’s series gives each of its main players a complicating hang-up. Waiting for a call from her doctor with results about a recent biopsy, Tatum is a mess who fears she has the same breast cancer that felled her mother.
Courtesy of an on-air outburst about her client’s supposed laziness that’s gone viral, Dru-Ann is on the verge of being canceled. Brooke is maintaining a brave face as her husband Charlie (Rob Huebel) deals with a professional crisis. And Caroline is hiding something about her academic career, all as she strikes up a friendship with Tatum’s single-mom daughter, Aubrey (West Duchovny), and, also, Aubrey’s hunky if ditzy baby daddy, Dylan (Henry Eikenberry).
The Five-Star Weekend is sunshiny and aspirational, full of picturesque towns, opulent residences, quaint interior design, gorgeous beaches, and sumptuous food that make this getaway seem dreamy even as its characters’ lives unravel. That balance between the idyllic and the problematic is familiar, and so too is the fact that it introduces a potential romantic interest for its grieving protagonist in Jack (Timothy Olyphant), Hollis’ high-school flame, whose every word and smile indicates that he hasn’t lost feelings for her.
Olyphant is preternaturally magnetic, and on the opposite side of the spectrum, Judy Greer is nothing but conniving smiles as Electra, a catty villain who ostracized Brooke from her social circle and now intends to crash Hollis’ private festivities.
There’s so much bubbling beneath the surface that, from the get-go, The Five-Star Weekend is ready to boil, and its action builds adequately, if predictably. The material’s urgency is somewhat at odds with its posh environs, and there’s never a real sense that something disastrous could happen—or that its dilemmas might go unresolved.
Even so, its tale of sisterhood, solidarity, agency, and empowerment is tinged with just enough believable bittersweetness, and its uplifting message about healing and strength via female camaraderie makes its more sorrowful twists go down smoothly.
As The Five-Star Weekend’s axis, Garner is typically charismatic, evoking Hollis’ anguish and denial without ever over-italicizing the fact that she’s destined to transcend her unhappiness and overcome her relationship obstacles. Upending convention isn’t a component of this affair, and the narrative’s on-rails structure can sometimes beget sluggishness, as well as obviousness—a weakness epitomized by its telegraphing of Brooke’s eventual transformation.
Garner’s sturdy performance, however, helps offset the proceedings’ occasional creakiness, lending it authenticity no matter how silly its situations (such as an ice cream truck that, at the worst possible moment, breaks down, thereby blocking exits from the property).
At eight installments, The Five-Star Weekend is longer than it needs to be, and most everything regarding Caroline, Aubrey, and Dylan is superfluous, merely offering up another snapshot of misery, betrayal, and recovery. Still, minor shortcomings aside, the series is a polished entry in the ever-expanding collection of women-centered streaming dramas that mix the ominous and the salacious with the luxurious and the beautiful.
Heartache and uplift are doled out in equal measure over the course of this saga, and if it doesn’t tread new ground, it’s consistently proficient, aided by actors who are more than up to the challenge of infusing archetypes with amusing, moving personality.
Though self-contained, Brunstetter’s show leaves the door open for future seasons that would turn it into a middle-aged version of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Considering its maiden run’s charm, it’s easy to imagine that possibility becoming a reality.
