The Decameron, Netflix review: sexy, suave satire

Picture a scene: you’re young, bored, extremely horny and stuck inside due to a mass outbreak of disease with animal origins.

No, it’s not the great Covid lockdowns of the 2020s: it’s 1348, and you’re narrowly avoiding the ravages of the Black Death. You’re probably a noble, or perhaps a servant, or a merchant – and in the case of The Decameron, you might be a complete charlatan. Either way, your motives do not solely lie in avoiding a gnarly death from the plague. After all, there’s fame, fortune and love at stake at the Villa Santa!

The Decameron is Netflix’s take on a centuries-old Italian text by Giovanni Boccaccio, which encompasses 100 stories told by people lodging in a villa to escape the Black Plague. Created by Kathleen Jordan and executively produced by Orange is the New Black‘s Jenji Kohan, this version follows a group of colourful characters from their arrival the fictional Villa Santa in Tuscany, where they wait out the dreaded plague with wine, sex, games and feasts.

Black (plague) comedy

This miniseries is my new obsession. It sets up several intriguing threads from the get-go: there’s a servant, Licisca, pretending to be the noble lady she serves, the ‘old-maid’ Pampinea (28 years old, which is practically ancient in those times) who is desperate to wed the owner of the villa, her overly-loyal servant Misia, the pious Neifile, whose faith is tested by her extreme lust, her closet-homosexual husband Panfilo, and the chronically ill nobleman Tindaro and his doctor Dioneo – who may not be a doctor at all.

If it sounds Shakespearean, that’s probably because the bard himself was supposedly inspired by the original text.

Though the most famous face in the cast is Arrested Development‘s Tony Hale (as the Villa’s steward Sirisco), who emits an easy comedic flair and veteran character-actor sensibility that ties the whole series together, many viewers will also recognise (as Misia) the delightful Saiorse-Monica Jackson from the equally delightful Derry Girls. Jackson draws on her quick wit honed in the aforementioned series to ensure a quick, vibrant chemistry with every actor she interacts with in The Decameron. She may not be the lead this time, but she sure stands out – and surprises with a deep well of emotion within the grovelling, co-dependent Misia.

You may also recognise Tanya Reynolds, of Sex Education fame, as Licisca, the servant who poses as her lady Filomena. While the show doesn’t really have a ‘main’ character, it would be hard not to immediately associate her with the through-line of the story, as her arc arguably has the highest stakes. Reynolds balances the gawky Licisca perfectly with her confident ‘mask’ Filomena, who quickly becomes the talk of the villa with her very un-ladylike ways and natural charm. While other characters’ morals become looser and looser as they are poked and prodded, Licisca remains a character you can root for the whole time.

The ensemble cast mostly comprises of newer faces, who are all equally excellent in their commitment to their unique characters and the bawdy, black comedy vibe of the show. While the actors do the majority of the heavy lifting, it should be mentioned that the costumery also does a fantastic job in establishing and progressing each character. Each outfit reflects the characters’ personalities as well as their social status, without relying simply on a look of rags vs opulence. Pampinea (Zosia Mamet), for example, displays her desire to regain her youth by wearing custom facial appliqués, which look a lot like the stick-on diamantes a 12 year old would wear.

The medieval inspiration in the costumes is obvious, but there is a sense of play in the mixed fabrics, custom details, and gaudy hats that would give Melbourne Cup ‘Fashions on the Field’ punters a run for their money. With every new episode I found myself as keen to see what everyone was wearing as much as I was to see the saucy plotlines unfurling.

The Decameron is a gorgeous show, with the Tuscan sets and scenery nearly rivalling the costumes in every way – and the best thing is that it’s not just a pretty face; its good looks are backed up soundly by hilarious, sharp writing and satisfying character arcs that won’t leave you wanting.

A Game of Moans

The show is also incredibly sexy, and unlike another certain multimillion-dollar series that also borrows heavily from medieval tales, the sex depicted here is far more consenting, enjoyable, non-incestuous, and frequently queer. Huzzah!

Amar Chadha-Patel as the doctor and ‘medieval fuckboy‘ Dioneo is perfectly cast, cleverly climbing the social ranks by enticing noble women with his chiseled bod. His sexual antics are probably what’s given many critics the idea to name this show ‘the medieval Love Island‘– a hilarious, if rather shallow, summation. But, while who’s boning who is one of the draws of the series, it soon takes a backseat in importance when the various secrets and lies come to the surface, and tensions brew in the villa as our cast try desperately to defend it from opportunistic bandits, brigands and wayward clergymen.

Within this depiction of medieval life lies a clever analysis and satire of modern life, too. After all, nothing better reveals the struggles of the lower classes versus the upper crust than a deadly, unstoppable plague. As usual, the servants feel the brunt of it, employing measures to avoid infection wherever they can, and the merchant classes carry on their work as usual, while the nobles’ biggest worry is staving off boredom – and selecting what cut of meat they’ll feast on every night.

The Decameron is a show that will not only resonate with audiences, but also provide a tonne of laughs, intrigue, and a bangin’ soundtrack featuring Enya, Depeche Mode, and Bat For Lashes, to name just a few. It’s also just eight episodes long, so easy to smash out in a weekend or two.

The Decameron is available to stream on Netflix now.