‘Elle’ Review: Amazon’s Dull and Deluded ‘Legally Blonde’ Series Isn’t Even a Comedy

From the jump, the “Legally Blonde” prequel series doesn’t make sense. The original movie introduces a ditzy blonde who, after being dumped for not being a serious person, enrolls at Harvard Law. First, she tries to win back her boyfriend, but when he confirms the depths of his dipshit-ery, Elle Woods (Reese Witherspoon) realizes the only person she needs to prove herself to is Elle Woods. Not all blondes are dumb, don’t judge a book by its cover, yada yada yada, lo and behold, Reese Witherspoon is a certified movie star.

So what possible story needs to be told about the time before Elle’s life-changing realization? The movie did what movies are supposed to do: It focused on Elle’s most important moment. Arguing what came before that moment is of equal or greater value runs counterintuitive to what we’ve already seen. As a reboot, sure, why not go back to the beginning and start Elle’s evolution in high school? Let her prove her doubters wrong in fresh fish-out-of-water scenarios, from ninth grade to undergrad and then back to the hallowed halls of Harvard?

But “Elle,” Amazon Prime Video’s “Legally Blonde” series, insists it’s a prequel to the film (or films, if you include the maligned sequel in which Elle takes on Capitol Hill, “Legally Blonde 2: Red, White, and Blonde”). We’re expected to believe its version of Elle Woods is destined to do all the things Witherspoon’s version does, including fall for an obviously rotten dude, dedicate her future to being his wife, and never mention moving to Seattle for the bulk of her high school experience.

The biggest hurdle, though, is simply believing the Elle Woods who learns to prove her doubters wrong at 16 would be so intimidated when faced with doing it again at 22. Or, more simply put, it’s impossible to believe this version of Elle Woods could become that version of Elle Woods.

And that’s not even what’s really wrong with “Elle.”

Expecting absolute character consistency from a prequel series released 25 years after the movie is expecting a lot, not only because our culture has changed so much (when was the last time you heard a dumb-blonde joke?) but also because “Legally Blonde” is a farce. Elle narrates her Harvard submission video while wearing multiple bikinis. When she’s dumped at a nice dinner, she shouts, “Is it because my boobs are too big?” Her friends know she’s heartbroken because she eats eight grilled cheese sandwiches at once.

Karen McCullah Lutz and Kirsten Smith’s screenplay is littered with exaggerated stereotypes just waiting to be boisterously subverted. Paired with Witherspoon’s laser-sharp performance — embellishing every vacuous quip with earnest enthusiasm, without ever crossing the line from unaware to idiotic — “Legally Blonde” confidently balances its silly laughs and righteous inspiration. It’s a smart comedy popping our presumptions about who we perceive as dumb.

“Elle” is not a comedy. It’s not even a “dramedy,” a descriptor I despise, since labeling a story as both dramatic and comedic doesn’t actually tell us anything. When a term can be applied to “Baby Reindeer” and “The Ranch” (as a quick browse of Netflix’s TV Dramedies genre shows), it’s not a useful term. It’s too all-encompassing to be helpful. It’s a glob.

So maybe it is appropriate here. “Elle” is TV‘s latest globified IP extension, wherein a story that became popular for doing one thing really well is reimagined as a story that does many things not so well. For instance, “Legally Blonde” is very funny, and “Elle” is not funny. I don’t mean “Elle” isn’t funny in the subjective sense; I mean it’s not trying to be funny. There aren’t that many jokes, and the ones that made it in are too tepid, as if they’re unsure they belong here. At best, “Elle” is amusing, but only every 10 minutes or so. The rest of the time it’s focused on common teen drama plots — forming friendships, breaking friendships, reforming friendships, developing crushses, breaking crushes, redeveloping crushes, etc. — and, for reasons that never become clear, a season-long mystery.

Lexi Minetree and Chandler Kinney in ‘Elle’Courtesy of Justine Yeung / Amazon Prime Video

Mirroring the movie’s jumping-off point, the series starts with Elle (Lexi Minetree) well-established in her native Beverly Hills. She’s got dozens if not hundreds of friends, the closest of whom help Elle plan to dominate her junior of high school via a three-point plan involving befriending influential seniors and snagging the perfect boyfriend. But before she can get started, her parents inform Elle they’re moving to Seattle. Her dad (Tom Everett Scott, who’s underutilized) botched a nose job for a high-profile client and needs to “lay low” for a few years, and her mom (June Diane Raphael, utterly wasted in a character caught between caricature and sidekick) wants to support him.

So off they go, to the land of dark skies, darker coffee, and even darker fashion. Elle’s bright pink signature look sticks out like, well, a bright pink signature look amid a sea of black band T-shirts. The Seattle kids are in their grunge era, worshipping Kurt Cobain and disdaining entitled airheads — the latter of which they presume Elle to embody. When she introduces herself saying, “I’m Elle. I like iced coffee, the month of July, and when people dress kinda tennis-y, even when they don’t play tennis,” all these teens hear is, “I’m a child of privilege who remains happily ignorant of how the world really works.”

Creator and co-showrunner Laura Kittrell’s premise is sound. The visual contrasts reemphasize the perceived ideological contrasts between Elle and her new classmates: Can a city of rain dampen our hero’s sunny disposition? Of course not, but even though Elle’s inevitable triumph undercuts her first-in-a-lifetime success at Harvard, the more persistent problem is that “Elle” doesn’t build on its set-up; it takes it for granted.

“Pink isn’t a personality,” Elle’s main adversary snipes at her — if only the show took that “advice” to heart. “Elle” is the kind of show that thinks a joke is repeating the term “water bladder.” Its best wordplay goes something like, “Do you know Bikini Kill?” “Oh I know bikinis… that kill.” It ends every episode with a twist — at least one of which proves as laughably random as it is fundamentally out of place — because on some level, the writers know there’s not enough natural momentum or appeal to drive viewers to keep watching.

Having established its brand of comedy as largely aesthetic, “Elle” moves on to plots focused on tired teen drama, a pathetic love triangle, and a lazy mystery (that, technically, includes a death, so if you wanted to call “Elle” a murder-mystery — as ridiculous as that sounds — you wouldn’t be off base). None of it hits, including the forced film tie-ins, and Minetree’s admirable performance — adding sharpness and texture to futile dialogue and lifeless dilemmas — gets lost in perspective-less content destined to be, at most, second-screen entertainment.

A “Legally Blonde” series that doesn’t make sense as a prequel is one thing. But a “Legally Blonde” series that doesn’t take itself seriously as a comedy or as a source of inspiration? I object!

Grade: D+

“Elle” premieres Wednesday, July 1 on Amazon Prime Video. All eight episodes of Season 1 will be released at once. The series has already been renewed for Season 2.