‘Daisy Jones & The Six’ Season Review: An Intoxicating Tale of Love, Lust, Drugs, and Rock N’ Roll

This review contains spoilers.

Taylor Jenkins Reid has taken the literary world by storm in the past few years. Catalyzed in part by BookTok, her meteoric rise has included the successes of books like “The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo,” “One True Loves,” “Carrie Soto is Back,” and, of course, “Daisy Jones and The Six” — which was a #1 National Bestseller and sold over one million copies.

It was not entirely surprising, then, to learn that Reid’s work piqued the interest of production companies looking to take “Daisy Jones & The Six” — a story about a fictional 1970s band and their explosive rise to fame — from the page to the screen. This undertaking ultimately became a project under Reese Witherspoon’s production company, Hello Sunshine. And despite the almost unreasonably high expectations surrounding it, “Daisy Jones & The Six” generally delivers.

First and foremost, it is clear that the series benefited simply from being in competent hands — as well as not insignificant financial backing. Production quality is high, with a robust set including an expansive music studio, impressive mansions, and a variety of concert venues. The band even has thousands of real extras portraying arenas of crazed fans.

The styling is also rather effective in conveying the essence of the time period: In an interview with Variety, costume designer Denise Wingate described drawing from a variety of fashion inspirations like classic rock, boho, hippie looks, and psychedelic vibes, and spent about a year sourcing material from flea markets and online. Her efforts resulted in distinct wardrobes tailored to each character, a collection of visual marvels that — combined with all the other aspects of production — provided viewers of “Daisy Jones” with a colorful, enticing, and immersive cultural landscape.

Furthermore, the production team’s commitment to musical integrity is impressive. Although most of the cast had little prior musical experience, they engaged in intensive lessons and training for their roles. The cast went to band camp, where music supervisor Frankie Pine was tasked with teaching the actors how to convincingly perform like members of a hit rock band.

Not only that, but a fully produced original album (available on Spotify) by “Daisy Jones & The Six” was recorded and released, with vocals by Riley Keough as her character Daisy and Sam Claflin as Billy. The record, titled “Aurora,” launched at No. 1 for Billboard’s soundtracks chart, and became the first fictional band to reach No. 1 on Billboard’s emerging artists chart.

Was making a standalone album an absolute necessity for the series? Probably not. The tracks themselves are catchy and evoke a classic ’70s rock sound, but are nothing to write home about. Despite this, it’s certainly a cool addition to the project, and — aside from helping viewers buy into the story — is also significant in that it showcases the creators’ willingness to go above and beyond out of their passion for the project.

Because it’s a book adaptation, the “Daisy Jones” narrative itself cannot be credited to the TV series; however, the show does deserve praise for its ability to capture the key compelling elements of the novel.

The cast does a wonderful job of bringing the characters and their nuanced dynamics to life — from loyal mother and wife Camila Alvarez-Dunne (Camila Morrone) to music producer Teddy Price (Tom Wright). Riley Keough as Daisy Jones and Sam Claflin as Billy Dunne are stellar at conveying the electricity and volatility of the connection between the band’s frontrunners. Particularly in the band’s last-ever performance in Chicago, their chemistry is palpable.

The show probably could have benefited from a bit more development of their romantic tension, however. Most of the relationship is implied as occurring during their months of co-writing the songs for “Aurora” — which to viewers is compressed into just a couple episodes. This means that the emotional devastation of the love triangle between Daisy, Billy, and his wife Camila isn’t as powerful as it could have been. Up until that point, Billy is primarily conveyed as putting up his walls against the temptation that Daisy presents: He frequently expresses frustration and dislike towards her. It would have been helpful to see a few more moments of vulnerability from Billy towards Daisy — a look into his transition from resenting her to falling for her. A similar effect could have been achieved by the inclusion of an emotionally charged singing performance between the two, à la Stevie Nicks and Lindsay Buckingham in Fleetwood Mac’s iconic performance of “Silver Springs” live in Burbank in 1997.

The series can also be lauded for its depiction of relationships and friendships between the women of the story. There is significant attention paid to the various dynamics between woman characters, such as between Karen and Camila, Karen and Daisy, Daisy and Simone, and even Daisy and Camila — despite the two being involved in the show’s central love triangle. Furthermore, these relationships are primarily portrayed as healthy and uplifting, rather than catty or discordant. Some of the most impactful moments of the story hinge on the support systems these women have created for themselves: Whether it was Camila being by Karen’s side at the abortion clinic, Simone dropping everything to fly to Daisy in Greece, or Daisy coming over to Karen to comfort her on stage, the series expressly ensures that the Billy and Daisy will-they-won’t-they relationship is not all-consuming for the plot. In terms of romance, too, it is a breath of fresh air to see the series diverge from the novel in terms of Simone’s character. She is developed not only as a loyal friend to Daisy, but viewers learn about her own rise to fame, exploration of her sexuality, and the nuances of her relationship with her partner, Bernie.

One area the series struggles with, however, is its temporal delineation. Especially towards the beginning of the story, it is difficult for the viewer to discern how many months or years have passed between scenes. Unclear time jumps also make it difficult to gauge character’s ages, Billy in particular. It would likely have been helpful to introduce the actors meant to portray adult characters later, as for instance a 36-year-old Sam Claflin being brought in to play Billy in his early 20s is not entirely believable and disrupts the viewer’s sense of timeline continuity. Lastly, and this is perhaps a nitpicky note, but Karen (platinum blonde) and Billy’s (oddly parted, straightened bob) hairstyles in their “present day” interviews are particularly atrocious and cause slight pain each time they appear on screen.

In the end, “Daisy Jones & The Six” succeeds in creating an exhilarating and immersive ride for its viewer: The series is not the most profound piece of media ever to be created, but it is certainly an enjoyable one. Although it contains some undertones of heavier themes like addiction, infidelity, and sexism in the music industry, at its core the series is dominated by an intoxicating air of passion, recklessness, romance, and wild fun associated with the period in which it is set. Society has spent nearly 50 years being enraptured not only with Fleetwood Mac’s musical sound, but also their trajectory as a band and group of people. Taylor Jenkins Reid’s story, then, is effectively a piece of fan fiction sourced from the lore around Fleetwood Mac. The novel and TV series bring to (fictional) life an era that American society collectively holds tremendous nostalgia for: the love, the lust, the drugs, and the rock n’ roll of the 1970s — what’s not to enjoy about “Daisy Jones & the Six?”

“Daisy Jones & The Six” is available for streaming on Amazon Prime Video.

— Staff writer Julia Hynek can be reached at julia.hynek@thecrimson.com.