The life of a young successful therapist named Jean Holloway, who exposes the personal secrets of her patients, has been changed completely, as she faces many challenges in coping with her daily challenges and incidents come to inspire her, when her plan to surprise Michael in city.
As I hung in, the series began to organize itself around Watts's performance. No matter how florid her dialogue can sometimes be, she doesn't allow Jean to become maudlin or self-indulgent.
Despite all these highly qualified cooks, Gypsy comes out a flavourless hodgepodge, with nothing about Watts's character's crisis even faintly convincing.
That being said, with the exception of the oddly innocuous inaugural episode, Gypsy continuously demands attention in its vision of life as performance, which is what I imagine both Taylor-Johnson and Watts saw as so attractive about the project.
I'm not sure that Gypsy's somewhat antiquated feminist message -- is Rubin aware that Betty Friedan has been dead for a while now? -- works in a context in which her behaviour also dictates that she should be struck off.
The best shows make each character count, even if we only see them briefly. And yet "Gypsy" kept me engaged, as Jean drifts further and further into her secrets and lies.
For anyone engaged in psychotherapy, Gypsy presents a nightmare, but its lazy execution is not worth the time commitment. Unless Netflix is willing to pay your therapy co-pays, you should drop this series from your coverage.
Gypsy should've been a richly textured thriller laced with an irresistible sexual energy but it falls short. It might pick it up in the second half but even Naomi Watts' luminous performance can't disguise the fact that Gypsy is a little bit pedestrian.
