‘The Audacity’ makes it hard to find anyone (or anything) to root for in Silicon Valley

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If you’ve ever felt creeped out by an ad that seemed to know too much about you, you’ll understand the premise of the new show, “The Audacity.” The show centers around Duncan, who creates a company called PINATA – a darkly humorous acronym for “Privacy Is Not a Thing Anymore.” PINATA lets people deeply investigate anyone’s personal data, suggesting that the fight to protect privacy is already over and beyond our control.

As a big fan of shows like “Breaking Bad” and “Succession,” I was really intrigued by this new series, “The Audacity.” It’s from Jonathan Glatzer, who’s written for some great stuff, and it’s on AMC, so expectations were high. They’ve done shows about complicated, ethically gray characters before – think the early days of computers with “Halt and Catch Fire” – and those shows really delivered. Honestly, while “The Audacity” is well-made, it just doesn’t quite reach the same level of impact or complexity, at least not yet.

Duncan became wealthy as a co-founder of a social media app similar to Facebook – a version that doesn’t exist in this fictional tech world. Now, he’s attempting to sell his data-collection startup to Apple (referred to as “Cupertino”) – which he believes is the most influential tech company ever – and is strategically spreading rumors to improve his bargaining position. Duncan isn’t an innovator or particularly bright – he even misremembers a famous thought experiment – but he’s a skilled salesman. The true creative force behind his success was his late partner, Hamish, who tragically took his own life. Now, a new potential collaborator, Harper (played by Jess McLeod, whose hairstyle might remind viewers of Mackenzie Davis from “Halt and Catch Fire”), enters the picture as the creator of the core technology driving Duncan’s startup.

Even though Duncan is wealthy, he’s struggling and is seeing JoAnne (Sarah Goldberg), one of the show’s central characters, for therapy. He even consults with someone who leads ayahuasca ceremonies. JoAnne’s most notable client is Carl (Zach Galifianakis), a former tech mogul who made his fortune with a spam platform. Throughout the eight-episode season, Duncan tries to win Carl’s approval. Carl vents to JoAnne, saying, “It’s like people pretend we didn’t create everything they use. Why aren’t we celebrated? All I see is criticism and a lack of appreciation.”

I’m really getting invested in JoAnne’s world, and it’s fascinating how much of her life unfolds within the walls of her rented house – it’s a beautiful, older place, a deliberate contrast to the sleek, modern homes of the super-rich characters we see. She shares it with her second husband, Gary – a child psychiatrist, and honestly, one of the few genuinely decent people in this whole complicated story. Then there’s Orson, her fifteen-year-old son, who’s just arrived from Baltimore. He’s a bit of a mess, dealing with some awkward health issues and trying to figure things out while his dad battles cancer. He spends a lot of time in the basement, watching those typical ‘alpha male’ videos, but he’s also practicing the bassoon – and get this, he’s working on “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice”! It feels almost symbolic, given the story’s about technology spiraling out of control, but honestly, it’s just cool that he’s dedicated to the music, too.

During a conversation with JoAnne, Duncan subtly prompts her to sell some of her stock, reminiscent of the situation with Martha Stewart years ago. Realizing what’s happened, Duncan then blackmails her into sharing confidential information about her clients. JoAnne observes that Duncan values information over understanding, despite her possessing plenty of the latter, making her even more useful to him. Duncan’s advice is often simplistic and cynical, like saying “Winners don’t cheat, and cheaters don’t win,” or dismissing empathy as weakness, claiming he’s a ruthless opportunist.

Anushka (Meaghan Rath) is a key employee at Duncan and also sits on the board at Cupertino, where she’s nominally in charge of ethical innovation. She’s married to Martin (Simon Helberg), who’s developing a project called Alexander – or Xander, as he prefers – an AI companion designed to help lonely teenagers, built using their personal data.

He’s increasingly distant from his teenage daughter, Tess (Thailey Roberge), who is acting out with minor acts of vandalism and theft. She tries to get his attention, saying, “Dad, look at me,” while the family sits at a ridiculously long dinner table, everyone glued to their phones. Meanwhile, Duncan and Lili’s (Lucy Punch) daughter, Jamison (Ava Marie Telek), is constantly scrutinized by her mother about her weight. It appears all the parents in this affluent community are pushing their children towards Stanford, no matter what it takes.

Despite being written as superficial and self-centered, Lili is made surprisingly likable thanks to Punch’s comedic talent, preventing her from becoming a one-dimensional character. Galifianakis naturally brings an eccentric energy to his role, though some of his character’s hobbies feel forced – like his involvement in a fight club with a peculiar surrender phrase (“control alt delete”) and an odd fascination with World War I reenactments. These quirks exist primarily to set the stage for Tom (Rob Corddry), a Veterans Affairs official who arrives in Palo Alto seeking help to digitize a massive amount of paperwork, hoping it will improve the lives of veterans. He bluntly asks what benefits this partnership will bring. The show portrays him as its most unfortunate character, and he’s even given a karaoke performance of Peggy Lee’s “Is That All There Is?” with new lyrics written specifically for the scene.

The show focuses heavily on deals – companies being bought, sold, or falling apart – and shifting alliances, to the point where it becomes difficult to keep track of who’s doing what. It pays little attention to the characters as individuals. While the actors are strong and the dialogue is decent, the characters themselves aren’t developed enough to feel truly connected to, making the experience somewhat distant. Even the lead, Duncan, feels flat – it’s hard to care about his success or failure. He’s not just unlikeable, he lacks sympathy, and ultimately, he’s simply boring despite all the drama. JoAnne’s storyline is more complex, but she doesn’t resonate much either.

Glatzer, acknowledging these concerns, has Anushka express what the audience is already thinking in a pointed speech. She questions what good tech has actually done: “When did we last truly help anyone? Have we improved things? Shared knowledge? No. Are we even more open-minded? Definitely not. And we’ve failed on climate change – data centers produce more emissions than all air travel. Have we improved our children’s lives? Probably not. But hey, we can get Q-tips delivered in an hour. Great.” It’s a painfully accurate assessment.

Harper also suggests making sure to opt out of having your data sold by websites – it’s a smart thing to do.

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2026-04-12 21:24