Jack Davenport and Hefto Koasem star in Ten Percent, a rocky first Amazon movie but quick to improve on the UK version of Call My Agent
Warning, first of all: I haven’t seen the original French version, Dix pour cent (or, as it’s known on Netflix UK, call my dealer!). I don’t know how well Ten Percent – the English-language adaptation of Amazon Prime, set in London rather than Paris, and in development since before Call My Agent became successful – compared to its inspiration, whether something was lost in translation or if, One might get better than the other. I have to watch, I know, I will at some point, but for now I still need to stick around.
Like its French predecessor, Ten Percent is assigned to a talent agency for actors, shaken by the sudden death of its founder and lead partner. It becomes clear that the company is in a much worse financial position than they had realized, complicating the launch of their new production suite and bringing the looming specter of an American takeover; Within this, agents must navigate the egos of different clients and solve problems for them, in each case playing the real actors themselves. This vanity—reminiscent in some ways of episodes or extras—is primarily intended to be Ten Percent’s central draw, the weirdness that sets it apart from any workplace comedy drama in the film industry.
One more thing I have to make clear, before I continue: I really enjoyed the ten percent, and I had a lot of fun watching it. I think the staff is great (Hiftu Quasem is a special highlight), I think it gets a lot of good stuff from setting up comedy dramas in the workplace, and I wholeheartedly recommend it. But that’s offset by the fact that it’s unfortunately not a show that does its best, and the fact that the show’s central draw—the celebrity guest appearance, I think, is the main reason most of them join the series—is probably its weakest aspect.
The main problem, which manifests itself in different ways, is that the show is too much…beautiful, almost, so evident in its portrayal of celebrities. Kelly MacDonald plays a well-mannered, lovable version of herself in the first and sadly weaker episode; Helena Bonham Carter plays a very friendly and devoted self. Phoebe Dynevor plays a version of herself who is kind and friendly. Compared to something like episodes – where Matt LeBlanc has fully committed to playing a selfish, arrogant, and lascivious version of himself – Ten Percent’s shortcomings soon become apparent.
Some of them are working, or at least close to doing so. Dominic West portrays himself as neurotic and anxious, in the middle of a crisis at the thought of playing Hamlet for a selfie; David Oyelowo, opposite his real-life partner Jessica, is the wife of forced to lie. Those, in each case, have a little bit of complexity and substance to them, and there’s more humor in that as a result – I have no reason not to think that Kelly MacDonald is polite and likable in real life, but a show like this needs more exaggerated comics to be The funniest version of itself. The show doesn’t have to be harsh or blunt—color-wise, it works the way it is—but it does have to step up, treating the celebrity with a messy, if not harsh, brush.
But again, when it works, I think it really works. After a few episodes, Ten Percent settles into himself more comfortably – as a result of developing his own momentum, throwing the characters in their constant plot lines outside the guest star of the week, which means that the guest appearance feels more like a light distraction than an expanding abyss – and the watch becomes a much more attractive and enjoyment. As a mockery of the film industry, it’s okay. As a workplace drama (which is what it really is, more than a comedy), it’s a surprisingly honest, deeply watchable piece of TV.
Like I said, Ten Percent has a great cast: I’ve already been fond of Prasanna Puwanarajah (Comet Defense is still often absent), and it’s a great introduction to Hiftu Quasem and Harry Trevaldwyn (both absolutely fantastic). Meanwhile, Tim McInerney is in some ways the heart of the show as washed-up actor Simon Gould, an alcoholic who’s never quite landed a job and is on the verge of being brought down by the agency, but is always (consistently, tirelessly, surprisingly) kind to the agents, never serving Himself never once even when it benefits him the most.
In a second series – and I really hope they make one – the problems will be easy enough to solve. Either you find celebrities who have more game to indulge in their self-parody, or you find a way to be overly specific at it; Jokes about Gracepoint’s David Tennant, and certainly no point of reference for anyone, seem like pointers to a possible path forward. Alternately, celebs should probably be replaced by fictional alternatives – Ted Lasso’s Phil Dunster doesn’t appear as himself but as an overbearing soap star, and that works out a lot better than Phoebe Dynevor’s guest place.
For now, it seems worth the risk of Ten Percent — not for the celebrity gloss it’s sold on, but for the character dynamics that really make the show sing.
Ten Percent will be available to stream on Amazon Prime Video starting Thursday, April 28, with all eight episodes available simultaneously. I’ve seen the entire series before writing this review.
