TV Review: Gypsy’s psychosexual drama is as subtle as syphilis

It boggles the mind that prestige actors like Naomi Watts and Billy Crudup wound up in a project like Gypsy. Sure, Netflix has been on a prolific upswing lately, so it’s not hard to imagine the two receiving some sort of pitch akin to “psychological sexual domestic thriller, featuring Fifty Shades director Sam Taylor-Johnson.” But wasn’t there some sort of script approval? When they read honest-to-god lines like “You seriously don’t get it, do you?” and “You’re like a different person lately!” did they not throw the script across the proverbial room and fire off testy phone calls to their respective agents? Doesn’t Crudup have enough of that sweet, sweet MasterCard cash to avoid ever having to play a thankless husband role like this? Seriously, what happened? A retrospective of Gypsy the musical would have been a better fit, with Watts as Mama and Crudup …

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