Netflix’s latest international acquisition is Freud, its first Austrian series, about Sigmund Freud solving crimes with a psychic. This is both ridiculous and, considering the state of prestige suspense television, absolutely unsurprising.
19th Century Vienna is obviously a great place to set a moody, atmospheric thriller—see its starring turn as a bombed-out ruin in the Orson Welles classic The Third Man. Add all those weird psychosexual fin-de-siècle vibes and you’re three-quarters of the way to binge-watching gold. But a crime-solving Freud? With a psychic partner named “Fleur Salomé” and, according to Variety, “surly war veteran and police inspector, Kiss.” Come on.
I mean, a medium named Fleur and a surly war vet and a presumably a hot young Sigmund Freud who definitely fucks because I can see where this is going? Come on!!!!
I mean, COME ON.
::Ten minutes of seriously contemplating this premise, visualizing all the steamy glances in the shadows cast by rococo Hapsburg palaces, like sort of a kinkier Poldark::
Okay, honestly, in the course of writing this blog post I have convinced myself that while this is still a ridiculous idea and I maintain my lifelong low-grade fury at Freud for his misogyny and unleashing pop-Freudian bullshit upon the world, I’m absolutely going to watch (and probably enjoy) this dumb show. I’m gonna gobble it down like it’s jumbo-sized cheese puffs and feel slightly ill for a week afterward.