Kaos reigns with a fresh, ferocious take on Greek mythology

Using Greek mythology as an allegory for the current, messy state of the world isn’t exactly new or subtle, but when has Zeus & Co, in all of their thunderbolt-rattling brazenness, ever been taken with subtlety? Kaos, the ambitious Netflix series from The End Of The F***ing World scribe Charlie Covell, who moves the action of ancient Greece to a modern-day Mount Olympus that looks far more Calabasas than Kokkinopilos, doesn’t have to work hard to find fantastical proxies for our own real-world personalities. (Its leader is petulant, paranoid, and power-hungry, with a fondness for tacky gold fixtures and cheating on his wife. Now, who does that remind you of?)  

But instead of feeling overly winking in its reflection of our present political reality, this sharp-edged satire of the world’s OG one-percenters is both an unexpected reimagining of age-old tales (equal parts Succession, The Boys, and Hadestown) and a much-needed reminder that corruption is cyclical—and that hope doesn’t always have to feel so hopeless. 

Let’s start at the top: Our Zeus is, excellently, played by Jeff Goldblum, who stepped into the role after Hugh Grant departed the series because of scheduling conflicts. It’s shrewd casting, given Goldblum’s public persona as a kind of offbeat, well-dressed alien roaming Earth, charming us mere mortals with the strange allure of his mischievous wit, mellifluous timbre, and strong menswear game. 

The early episodes of Kaos lure us in with that very Jeff Goldblum-ness. The “king of the goddamn gods” struts around a Mount Olympus mega-mansion in bedazzled designer tracksuits, pops down to Earth for a quick human romp with one of his many baby mamas, and archly declares Prometheus (Stephen Dillane) “an unsavory old coot, but I love him!” before zapping the Titan back to that Caucasus cliffside, an eagle ready to peck at his liver for all of eternity. When Prometheus—who also serves as the show’s narrator—identifies Zeus as “a transcendent, unmitigated bastard,” sure, we believe him, but the supreme god seems more obnoxiously careless than outright evil.

But across eight hourlong episodes—with directing duties split between Georgi Banks-Davies and Runyararo Mapfumo—Zeus is forced to reckon with an ancient prophecy that threatens his power and immortality, and Goldblum chillingly warps that delicious erraticism into a dangerous volatility. His fellow deities can’t wrangle Zeus’ fear and fury: not Hera (Janet McTeer), his wife-sister and equal in both charisma and cruelty; nor younger bros Poseidon (Cliff Curtis)—think more Speedos, less spears—and Hades (David Thewlis), who’s been busy doing his brother’s bidding in a very bureaucratic, black-and-white Underworld. No, according to the prophecy, it is the lowly humans below that will take down the powers that be, with a little help from old Prometheus as well as Zeus’ party-loving demigod son Dionysus (Nabhaan Rizwan), who laments the fact that Dad doesn’t take him seriously to anyone who will listen, including his local falafel guy. 

It takes a while for all of the disparate mortal stories to come together, like those of Eurydice (Aurora Perrineau), the unhappy wife of rock star Orpheus (Killian Scott); Ariadne (Leila Farzad), the president’s daughter still grieving the death of her twin; and Caeneus (Misia Butler), an Underworld “diver” who helps lead souls across the River Lethe. Such is the drawback of erecting such a dynamic, detailed world—one that Covell deftly renders accessible for those who snoozed through history class and dots with enough divine Easter eggs to appease the mythologically obsessed—and of populating its immortal cast with singular talents that you can’t help but want to pal around with. (The show boasts Debi Mazar as Medusa, Eddie Izzard as Lachesis, and so on.)

But when those earthly creatures do start connecting and devastatingly realize that, in all their splashy irreverence and casual brutality, the gods actually don’t give two shits about them, Kaos turns deeply human. The helplessness felt in the wake of Zeus’ wrath is all too relatable (“Burning down the temples? Taking a shit on the holy books? I am one person, what can I do?!” one mortal grieves in the season’s back half), but the show also earnestly affirms that those efforts are well worth it. As one character wistfully declares, “All the best things are human.” 

Not-so spoiler alert: It will take more than eight episodes of television for Eurydice, Ariadne, and Caeneus to save the world from the havoc of the gods, but Kaos confidently clears the way for future installments through the swagger of its style and the strength of its storytelling. Luckily for the series, and us, there’s plenty more myth where that came from. 

Kaos premieres August 29 on Netflix