Whether or not you've read John Steinbeck's East of Eden, I promise you this: Netflix's stellar new TV adaptation of his novel will change you. I'll tell you exactly why below. —Brady Langmann, senior entertainment editor
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Florence Pugh, Christopher Abbott, and Hoon Lee honor John Steinbeck’s epic while moving into a class of their own.
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If you’re lucky, you’ll watch one TV show a year that changes you forever. Take my word for it: Netflix’s East of Eden is that show, whether or not you’ve read John Steinbeck’s seminal 1952 novel of the same name. By the end of the seven episodes, timshel—a Hebrew word that Steinbeck reinterpreted to mean “thou mayest” and arguably serves as the lifeblood of the story—is something you’ll want to tattoo on your psyche so that you may never forget your capacity for change.
If you consider East of Eden’s place in American literature, it’s almost shocking that something as sweeping as Netflix’s adaptation—which far surpasses the scope of the 1955 film (famous for being James Dean’s breakout vehicle) and towers above the well-regarded but little-seen 1981 miniseries—hadn’t existed until now. This East of Eden comes from creator Zoe Kazan, the granddaughter of Elia Kazan, who directed the 1955 film. (Which was nominated for four Academy Awards but only covers the last third of the novel.) Her deep love of a story that clearly shaped her childhood imagination is clear, but she doesn’t let reverence get in the way. Her secret? Clearly it was casting four actors at the absolute zenith of their powers: Florence Pugh, Christopher Abbott, Mike Faist, and a breakout Hoon Lee.
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In 2017, I noticed that there was an explosion of money in the porn business, thanks in part to OnlyFans lifting its ban on adult content. I was curious about how I could get a piece of it in Atlanta, because the industry seemed to be centralized in California. I started following adult performers on Twitter and DM’d one from the South named Mrs. Feedme, telling her I wanted to work in the industry. She was trying to make a name in porn too but couldn’t figure out how to break into it. She was dabbling with OnlyFans and did some shoots in Atlanta.
She told me she was filming at a hotel and invited me to go with her. One of the people she was filming with was a guy who calls himself Mr. Nuttz. He and two other guys run a business called Team VP that organizes content-creator houses in Atlanta. We traded numbers, and a month or so later the guys invited me to see their content house in action. I asked if I could bring Mrs. Feedme, and they said she could come and film but she had to be tested for STIs first.
We got to the house, and there were performers everywhere, filming according to a strict schedule set by the producers. I’m like, Oh my God, how did they pull it off? The Team VP guys said that if you keep a tight schedule, supply food, and make sure everyone’s tested for STIs, you’d be surprised how many people will show, no matter how far they have to travel.
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Days after informing NBC of his decision, Jerry called Larry to see if he’d like to come back and write the final episode of Seinfeld.
“I wanted to invite Larry back to do the last episode so we could do it together,” Jerry explains. “So we could end it the way we started it.”
“I was happy that he asked,” Larry remembers. “I liked the idea of finishing the show up together.”
For Larry, the timing was perfect. Not only because he’d just locked the edit on Sour Grapes—which meant that between now and April, when the film was scheduled to hit theaters, he could focus entirely on Seinfeld—but also because after feeling a bit outside his depth as a film director, it would be nice for him to return to doing the one thing that he did better than anyone else in the world: writing an episode of Seinfeld.
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