Much like the vapid, ostentatious characters it revolves around, Palm Royale is a show with a shiny surface and very little depth underneath. This story of social climbing in 1969 America has all the components of a savvy, snappy new series, from its A-list stars to its exquisite period production, but it ends up a bloated mess with a major identity crisis.

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The show’s set-up is easy enough to get on board with: Maxine Simmons-Delacorte (Kristen Wiig, with a Tennessee accent that takes a minute to get used to) is a former Chattanooga pageant queen determined to break into the esteemed Palm Beach social scene. She has little to her name aside from a doting, doltish husband Douglas (Josh Lucas) and a tenuous family connection to the town’s maven. That would be Norma Delacorte (Carol Burnett), who just so happens to be comatose, her assets on display for any eager loved one to take advantage of.

This all leads to Maxine fatefully scaling the walls of the exclusive Palm Royale beach club, coming into contact with fearsome socialites Evelyn (Allison Janney) and Dinah (Leslie Bibb) as well........

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