Hitmakers Review: A Polished Tune That Skips the Final Chorus

Netflix’s Hitmakers presents itself as a peek behind the music industry’s most guarded curtain. The series assembles a dozen of the professionals who write the songs that define the pop charts, individuals with credits for artists like Ariana Grande, Justin Bieber, and BTS. The format places these creators in a series of opulent “songwriting camps.” We follow them to luxurious estates in the Bahamas, Nashville, and Cabo San Lucas, where a life of private transport and high-end accommodations is the norm.

Their task, however, is far from a vacation. Divided into small teams, they operate under intense pressure, given just hours to conceive and record demos. The objective is to craft a new hit for a specific client, and the list is formidable: John Legend, the rising star Shaboozey, BLACKPINK’s Lisa, and the icon Usher are all waiting for the perfect track.

The Fantasy of the Factory Floor

The show’s structure owes a clear debt to its producers, some of whom shaped the aesthetic of Selling Sunset. The narrative is polished with the same high-gloss finish, prioritizing an image of effortless luxury and performative camaraderie. We watch songwriters pop champagne bottles on private jets and dine on lavish meals, as if these were essential parts of the creative regimen. The final episode sees one writer, Tommy Brown, casually ordering multiple servings of caviar and Wagyu steak for the table, cementing the show’s vision of success.

This is the songwriter’s life reimagined as a real estate fantasy, a slick presentation that papers over the profession’s difficult realities. For nearly every working songwriter, this depiction is pure fiction. The series mostly sidesteps the genuine financial instability that defines the job—the fact that many writers work on contingency, receiving no upfront pay for their time in these camps.

The facade cracks just once, in a moment of startling honesty from songwriter Trey Campbell. Despite a Grammy nomination and significant song placements, he mentions that he still drives for Uber to make ends meet. This small admission of truth is a powerful narrative beat, yet the show quickly moves on, treating it as a piece of personal trivia rather than an indictment of the system it glorifies.

This choice reveals the series’ limited ambition. In its pursuit of a glamorous narrative, the show misses the opportunity to tell a much richer story about the actual state of the industry. The writers toast with the mantra, “Always up, never down,” a phrase that perfectly captures the show’s forced optimism and its unwillingness to examine the precarious foundation upon which these hits are built.

Tuning Out the Music

At its best, Hitmakers captures the genuine spark of musical creation. The scenes inside the multi-million dollar studios, where ideas are born from a simple keyboard melody or a lyrical phrase, are the show’s strongest. Here, the cast members operate like elite athletes, their talent for shaping sound and emotion on full display.

Watching them craft the plucky tune “Cherry” for John Legend or pivot to create convincing country hip-hop tracks like “Tarantino” for Shaboozey is a remarkable sight. Yet, the show’s narrative architecture seems to distrust these moments. Viewers are only given brief glimpses of the hard work; we see the beginning of a concept and then cut to the finished demo at an evening listening party. The arduous, repetitive, and often mundane work that fills the hours between is left on the cutting room floor.

Instead, the runtime is filled with interpersonal conflicts that feel engineered for the camera. We witness awkward tension between collaborators Jenna Andrews and Whitney Phillips, and a cringe-inducing dinner where Stephen Kirk talks down to his partner, Andrews. Even the show’s most significant dispute—a conflict over creative ownership between Ben Johnson and JHart—is resolved with a speed and neatness that feels more suited to television than reality.

Johnson confronts JHart during a listening party, and the issue is settled when JHart offers a piece of his publishing, a “great reality show moment” that papers over the complex legal battles that often arise from such situations. These dramatic threads are uniformly low-stakes, a weak substitute for the more authentic drama of the creative process itself. The series favors the manufactured friction of reality TV over the genuine friction that produces art.

A Song Without an Ending

The central engine of any competition or process-oriented show is the final payoff. In Hitmakers, the entire structure is built around one question: will these songs get chosen by the stars? The pressure to secure a “cut” is the stated purpose of the entire exercise. Yet, the series concludes not with a resolution, but with a collection of vague possibilities.

Viewers are left in a state of ambiguity regarding the fate of the music they just watched being made. We are told that country star Lainey Wilson might record a track. We hear from producer L.A. Reid that if Usher passes on a song, he has another artist in mind. The K-Pop hit “Eleven” is described as a track Lisa is “supposedly… allegedly… maybe… potentially going to cut.”

This lack of resolution deflates the entire narrative. While this uncertainty may accurately reflect a songwriter’s professional life, it makes for deeply unsatisfying television, breaking the implicit promise made to the audience. The songs, though often catchy in the moment, become as disposable as the drama, forgotten by the next episode.

The show ends up in a strange middle ground. It is not an instructive documentary about music production, nor is it a successful high-drama reality series. It is a beautifully shot showcase of talent that forgets to build a story with a beginning, a middle, and most critically, an end. It is pleasant enough for background viewing, but it lacks the narrative substance to demand a viewer’s full attention or leave a lasting impression.

Full Credits

Writers: Jenna Andrews, Tommy Brown, Trey Campbell, Ferras Alqaisi, Harv, James Abrahart (JHart), Ben Johnson, Stephen Kirk, Whitney Phillips, Sevyn Streeter, Nova Wav.

Producers and Executive Producers: Adam DiVello, Harvey Mason Jr., Britt Burton, Kimberly Goodman, Kristofer Lindquist, Megan Roger, Skyler Wakil. The series is produced by Done and Done Productions and Harvey Mason Media.

Cast: Jenna Andrews, Tommy Brown, Trey Campbell, Ferras Alqaisi, Harv, James Abrahart (JHart), Ben Johnson, Stephen Kirk, Whitney Phillips, Sevyn Streeter, Nova Wav.