High on Rock n' Roll

"Daisy Jones and the Six" sparks intrigue, yet falls short of the book's complexity

by Lucy Davis

There is hours. As an author, Jenkins thrives in the swirl of glamor and gray space of bygone Hollywood eras. This is where the series delivers: aesthetically, it’s a wonder. There are rich jewel tones, neon montages, iconic cars and dresses and geometric architecture. Like any good period piece, the production design is immersive, working with direction and editing to recreate rock n’ roll Los Angeles. Not only is the show gorgeous, but it’s smart. As someone who has already read the book, I can tell that each creative team worked together to build the plot, and the attention to detail is so validating. And–thank God–I couldn’t have picked a better cast if I had done it myself. Riley Keough is Daisy, not only with her ginger hair and blue eyes, but her mannerisms, her laughter, her voice. Her chemistry with Sam Clafin is so electric that I felt like I was intruding just watching them sing together. And though I’m not used to watching Clafin play darker characters, his Billy is heartbreakingly complex, expressive and conficted. Nabiyah Be is the perfect best friend as Simone. I was a little sad that Tom Wright’s Teddy wasn’t British, but hey, you can’t win them all. Most importantly, every member of the band sings and plays their own instruments, which the casting team didn’t have to make a priority, but they did. The cast even spent fve weeks at a “band camp,” according to an Associated Press article, learning or relearning each instrument. Which is why my heart breaks at the changes they made to the script.

Part of what makes “Daisy Jones” a compelling read is the fact that their characters are redeemable: Billy overcomes his demons for the sake of his family and stays true to Camila (his wife), Camila trusts Billy even when the tabloids spread rumors about his involvement with Daisy, Daisy is brilliant but clearly self-absorbed. By changing formative moments in each character’s arc, the writers sacrifced their integrity.

If you’ve seen the trailer, you’ve seen what I mean: Camila is caught up in doubt about the dynamic between Billy and Daisy, kept halfway in the dark when the emotion between them is palpable. The writers make her jealous, and they change Billy’s actions to justify her jealousy. There are further complications, of course, but what is supposed to make Camila so diferent from the members of the band is that she isn’t driven by emotion–she’s Billy’s calm in the storm. Adding payof between Billy and Daisy allowed the show to exploit the plotline by pitting Daisy and Camila against each other, which didn’t sit right with me at all. That’s not who Camila is.

The other big problem I have with the show’s writing is its inability to handle its larger themes responsibly. Jenkins wrote Daisy as a lost artist who lost herself further in addiction–she doesn’t shy away from shining light on the consequences addiction has on its users and those closest to them. In the series, Daisy popping pills and putting the band in jeopardy is brushed of–it’s a problem, but it's not destructive like Billy’s addiction. Her spiral is supposed to be tightening, but the camera never sits with her long enough to explore it, much less understand it.

On another level, there are stark dif- ferences in the music of the book and that of the series. Throughout the novel, Eddie (the bassist of The Six) complains that he doesn’t want to be in a soft-rock, pop-adjacent band. Yet every song from the series sounds like something he would hate–including “Aurora,” which is supposed to be the band’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.” If you’re expecting iconic guitar flls, big drum solos and quintessential 70’s production, “Daisy Jones” will only disappoint. There’s no rawness. No boldness. But “Honeycomb” is good.

Here’s the big asterisk: the show isn’t fnished yet. At the time of my writing this, only six of the ten episodes are available to watch. Daisy is on her way to Italy for a holiday, and the band has yet to embark on their “Aurora” tour. The story isn’t over, and while my criticisms still stand, the show has time to deliver an ending worthy of its original work.

Book-to-screen adaptations are fckle. Sometimes you hit cinematic gold, like Greta Gerwig’s adaptation of “Little Women,” or use it as an opportunity to improve upon the source material, like “The Summer I Turned Pretty.” Other times it’s a dumpster fre (ahem, 2010 “Percy Jackson”). “Daisy Jones and the Six” is good, great even, but I’m a reader frst–and as a reader, I’m as disappointed as I am thrilled about this adaptation. Maybe that’s just rock n’ roll.