Leslie Bibb’s Poison-Tongued ‘Palm Royale’ Role Is a Dream

In Palm Royale’s version of Palm Beach, Florida—where everything is just south of reality—there’s always something new competing for your attention. At one moment, you might be dazzled by the mod muumuus worn by the city’s wealthy elite. The next minute, you’ve got your eyeballs locked on Ricky Martin’s wet chest and tiny swimming trunks. Apple TV+’s latest series is frightfully good at keeping your attention where the show wants it to be. But there’s one element of Palm Royale’s first three episodes, which dropped all at once Wednesday, that steals your gaze every time, no matter how many shirtless hunks or hypnotic dress patterns are filling up the screen: Leslie Bibb.

Even if Bibb’s name sounds unfamiliar to you, her face likely won’t. Since the ’90s, Bibb has been steadily working as one of Hollywood’s busiest character actresses, jumping between gay cult favorite series like Ryan Murphy’s Popular and the quickly canceled GCB, to meatier roles in the first two Iron Man movies, Confessions of a Shopaholic, and hordes of other series guest spots. But in Palm Royale, Bibb finally gets a chance to showcase what she’s capable of on a more stable stage. In this series, she grabs her role—as Dinah Donahue, the charitable ingénue threatening to topple the Palm Beach power ranking—by the teeth and refuses to let go. Bibb won’t rest until she’s shown a new generation of viewers just how talented she is, especially when it comes to playing women who are as ambitious as they are vindictive. Bibb is so consistently great across Palm Royale’s trio of introductory episodes that she repeatedly steals the show from its star, Kristen Wiig, as their two characters compete for the glory of Floridian royalty. It’s a hoot to watch, and it should be the heralding of a new era in Bibb’s long career.

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In case you haven’t watched yet, here’s what you’ll need to know: Set in 1969, the series tracks the endless endeavors of one Maxine Simmons (Wiig), who arrives in Palm Beach intent on making her way to the top of the social food chain. That’s much easier said than done, considering that Maxine has to gain entry to the city’s most prestigious private club, the Palm Royale, to even have a shot at infiltrating the ranks of Sunshine State nobility. In her first attempt, Maxine is almost instantly found out by one of the club’s waiters (Martin), but not before overhearing a conversation between three of the Palm Royale’s most frequent guests.

Evelyn Rollins (Allison Janney), Raquel Kimberly-Marco (Claudi Ferri), and Dinah Donahue all sit around a table by the pool, discussing the status of the women’s movement. The trio is aghast by a recent hullabaloo at the Oak Room, where a woman demanded a table at the men’s-only establishment. “If this is the state of the feminine world in 1969, can you iiiimaaaaagine what 1970 will bring?” Dinah says. This is only Bibb’s third line in the show, and already she’s proven that she’s one of the series’ MVPs. Her emphasis on one little word feels so innately conversational, yet is so clearly a considered choice by the actor, that it becomes a testament to Bibb’s skill.

This is the case with so many of Bibb’s line readings, during which I found myself stepping out of viewer mode and putting my critic hat on (it’s a fedora with a five-foot-long feather in the brim). Bibb has a naturalism about her that I have seen slowly dissipating from television, especially among actors playing recurring roles. It’s as if she shows up to the set so confident in her knowledge of the character and her abilities as a performer that she forgets she’s working. But what Bibb is doing doesn’t appear to be method acting. Rather, it looks like she’s just simply having fun, and it’s amazing how much of that joy can translate to the viewer.

In this first episode, Maxine hatches a plan to get Dinah to sponsor her membership at the Palm Royale, which involves Maxine orchestrating a fender bender that leads to a tennis lesson, couture fitting, and an abortion—just your average week in Palm Beach. When Maxine notices Dinah from across the street, crying in her car after fighting with one of the Palm Royale’s tennis instructors, she puts two and two together and jumps into action. After stopping short in her car and letting Dinah smash into her bumper, Maxine and Dinah start spilling in the hospital waiting room. Maxine tells Dinah that she’s married to the last remaining Dellacorte son, the heir to Palm Beach’s most sizable estate. But even that isn’t enough for Dinah’s support. “If I were to sponsor you, the initiation fee is $30,000, with another $500 in monthlies,” Dinah says. “Do you have that kind of money, Maxine?” She does not.

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But Maxine is undeterred, and once she gets Dinah to admit that she’s pregnant with the tennis instructor’s baby, Maxine senses that she has her in. Unfortunately, even a spurious child isn’t quite enough to buy Dinah’s signature on some membership papers. Unconcerned about Dinah’s fetus, the two women go for drinks, where Bibb delivers a captivating monologue about how a woman who married into money will spend her life cycling between lesser men. It’s a speech that’s imbued with the aforementioned stylistic gifts Bibb gives to her acting, this time, complete with plenty of glass-grabbing and exasperated hand mannerisms.

“I’m at peace with the knowledge that my marriage will fail,” Dinah tells Maxine. “But I could nev-er initiate its demise. I would lose everything if I did.” As if we weren’t on our feet and cheering already, Bibb twirls her wrist in a clockwise motion to put her palm in the air, a shrug without even shrugging. “So you see,” she says, stretching out the vowel at the end of the word until it’s ready to break, “only the poor can afford to know romance.” What makes this performance so great is that Bibb isn’t just recycling caricatures of a put-upon woman; these sentiments and how they’re expressed feel singular to Dinah, and it’s because of Bibb that this scene is a true standout.

By the end of the first episode, after getting her new “friend” access to a safe abortion, Maxine plays all of her cards and blackmails Dinah into being her first sponsor at the Palm Royale. It’s enough to grant Maxine the access she so desires, but it also puts a target on her back from Dinah and the rest of the wealthy women at the club. In Episode 2, Dinah’s sponsorship causes a ripple effect. She raises $200,000 for a medical charity, but Mary Jones Davidsoul (Julia Duffy), who is looking to score some cash donations in support of fibrosis, is trailing closely behind at $190k. Seeing an opportunity, Mary asks Maxine to dole out $10,000 for a table at her charity auction, which Maxine agrees to pay if Mary will be her second of three necessary sponsors. In a fit, Dinah ends up playing Maxine in a game of doubles tennis, alongside her husband, Perry (Jordan Bridges), and her clandestine lover, the tennis instructor Eddie (Jason Canela).

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Sequences like these are evidence that Bibb’s performance is perfected down to the details. The physical elements are just as calculated as every bit of dialogue, and it’s a joy to watch as she splays her talents across the tennis court. In Palm Royale’s third episode, Bibb gets a chance to do this again, waltzing into the mansion owned by Maxine’s comatose mother-in-law, Norma (Carol Burnett), and demanding answers as fast as she demands a drink. “Does Norma know you’re doing dress-up at the Dellacorte?” Dinah asks the moment Maxine opens the door. “No, of course she doesn’t! She’s in a coma.” Bibb’s delivery here is spiritually akin to Jane Krakowski’s in one of my favorite 30 Rock jokes: silly, ludicrous, and completely appropriate to the character’s overflow of narcissism.

Vanity is all the rage in Palm Beach, after all, and Dinah has more than any of the other proficient players in Palm Royale so far. Watching Bibb act her ass off, and have it appear so effortless, is a pure and total delight, and a rarity in television, where bigger typically suggests better. That’s not always true, and Bibb’s performance is a necessary reminder that thoughtfully inhabiting a character down to their every movement—even when those gestures aren’t outsized—can be just as compelling as any conspicuous example of capital-A acting. And with Bibb preparing for her stay at the White Lotus in that series’ third season, we can expect even more thrilling character work to come. Surely, the next seven weeks of Palm Royale will be the perfect appetizer.

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