The heavyweights of prestige television these days all seem to offer a dose of escapism via big-money venues, from the unattainable opulence of a White Lotus getaway to the well-appointed country home of an Industry blue blood to the airy interiors of any given Nicole Kidman vehicle. (The myriad entries to the Kidman-as-an-unfulfilled-rich-mom canon have established it as a defining genre of our time.) We at AD are delighted by the eye candy potpourri that’s been served to us, but if ever you’re in need of a small-screen palate cleanser from the billionaire’s row lineup of Hamptons havens and NYC aeries, we recommend you indulge in tastelessness executed flawlessly via The Righteous Gemstones.
Alongside other megahit HBO fares of late exploring the lives of one percenters via dynastic wealth narratives or deadly luxury vacations, the network’s comedy about a family of badly behaved Southern televangelists offers a vastly different idea of what it looks like to have more than a little money to throw around. With a McMansion of a different personality for every Gemstone family member, a throne room, portraiture depicting its characters as biblical figures, and even direct artistic references to the American president’s particular brand of ostentatiousness, the show has essentially written The Good Book on doing cringey design deliciously well across its four rollicking seasons.
Eli Gemstone’s house
Patriarch preacher Eli Gemstone (John Goodman) is of relatively new money, having established a Joel Osteen–esque empire with his late wife Aimee-Leigh in the past several decades. His manse leans more traditional, though it comes with its fair share of grand gauche elements, like a gratuitous memorial garden and a megawatt gold front door. In tracing the roots of the Gemstone look, “you could google ‘new money decoration’ to be as baseline as that, but then also there’s a little pantheon of people that we referred to,” set decorator Patrick Cassidy says, citing famous megachurch power couples like Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker and Jimmy and Frances Swaggart as some real-life figures in whose image the Gemstones were made.
Jesse Gemstone’s house
Eli’s three children maintain their own estates on the family’s South Carolina compound, and their respective dwellings are where the show’s delightfully tacky design truly shines through. While neither of the megachurch founder’s two adult failsons seem a fitting choice for Eli’s successor, Jesse Gemstone (played by show creator Danny McBride) is the eldest and sees himself stepping into his father’s shoes as head of the congregation, which is illustrated in his home’s design. Jesse’s desire to be regarded as a powerful alpha male manifests in features meant to shout his wealth and importance from the pad’s rooftop, literally.
“He wants to be respected. He’s always just like, ‘Wait, why am I not in charge?’ Obviously he’s ready to take the throne,” production designer Richard Wright tells AD, noting that Jesse’s home nods to his father’s aesthetic but with a more contemporary bent. “Jesse’s house is one of my favorite exteriors because it has so many weird features that are unclear why they’re there, all sorts of cupolas and points. It’s a pretty detailed McMansion design.”
Judy Gemstone’s house
For the Gemstone brood’s only daughter, Judy (Edi Patterson), a more coherently inelegant vision takes shape: “Judy for me was the angriest little rich girl who made the most money in the world: ultrafeminine, a lot of pink and icy blues,” Cassidy says. It’s tough to pick favorite features between the throw pillows emblazoned with Magic Photo glamour shots of herself and husband BJ (Tim Baltz) and taxidermy arranged in action poses, but the explicit painting of Judy and BJ as Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden—nude and pictured with the forbidden fruit, no less—makes a bold, if blasphemous, decorative statement from its station above the fireplace.
Kelvin Gemstone’s house
The siblings’ birth order makes itself clearest in the home of the youngest Gemstone, Kelvin (Adam Devine). While all of Eli’s children show some serious signs of Peter Pan syndrome, Kelvin’s comes through the strongest decoratively. His manse is a pubescent boy’s idea of a dream home: part arcade, part club. It has the bones of a McMansion, with its new-build feel and classical elements like random columns, but it’s kitted out with neon, games, gadgets, and just-because-I-can oddity decor, like a sarcophagus.
In conceiving of Kelvin’s manse, the team took a cue from the classic ’80s sitcom Silver Spoons, wherein a toy train and gaming machines cut an intriguing contrast against the Strattons’ more highbrow traditional home. “By the end of the show, we had wallpapered all Kelvin’s ceilings, his dressing room had all sorts of animals and animal prints,” Wright says. “His place was fun because it was just about getting to be a kid and it wasn’t defined by anything.”
For all that the new money striving the Gemstones’ decor is trying to do, it adds a comedic and somehow fitting layer to know that most of the interiors are shot inside a mall, given the dearth conventional production studios in Charleston. “We lived in the [former] Sears for many, many years with no windows,” Wright says. “Anytime you see any mall scenes in the show, those are right outside our office doors.”
After years of mall-living and fashioning some of the tackiest sets they could imagine, were there any decorative or styling choices that just felt too awful to air? “I don’t think we ever said that we went too far,” Cassidy ruminates. “Sometimes, it was sad to always embrace new money and questionable taste, although obviously really fun too.” Wright concurs: “There’s an attempt to make the images pleasant to look at, but as far as avoiding tackiness, I don’t think we ever did.” While the show’s unholy interiors aren’t making it onto our home inspo moodboards, we’re certainly glad they blessed our TV screens for four seasons.