Jeff Goldblum plays Zeus, the king of the gods, in Chaos. In the marketing for the Netflix series, he was positioned more as an Atlas-like figure, on whose back the entire show is carried – and with his nervous, stuttering slapstick. In reality Chaos is distributed fairly evenly across the large number of characters, many of whom don’t really seem to come from the same world and none of whom prove to be strong enough to save the series from failure.

Chaos is set in a world not unlike our own, except that here the Greek gods are real, ruling over humanity from the summit of Mount Olympus. The key members of this pantheon of gods are introduced to us in an opening sequence set to Dire Straits’ “Money for Nothing.” Each character title is often followed by a smaller one that offers a perfunctory addendum. This introductory sequence – and the rest of the eight-part series – is irreverently narrated by Prometheus (Stephen Dillane), who occasionally addresses the camera directly.

From this obvious dad-rock musical choice—along with songs like Blue Oyster Cult’s “(Don’t Fear) the Reaper” and the Zombies’ “Time of the Season”—to the tongue-in-cheek, Dead Pool-ish kind of humor, nothing about the way Chaos feels particularly inspired or particularly inspiring. If Cassandra were here, she would probably have some ominous things to say.

The series follows Zeus, who becomes increasingly concerned about his loss of power, while a group of people on Earth become involved in a plan to ensure that he does so. Caught between these two worlds is Zeus’ son Dionysus (Nabhaan Rizwan), who meddles in the affairs of mortals in order to gain his father’s respect. Dionysus is arguably Chaosis the actual protagonist and Rizwan delivers an endearing performance, but his Dionysus has a jumpy, fast-talking demeanor that one might not associate with the hedonistic god of wine and revelry.

The most notable of the earthbound characters are Orpheus (Killian Scott), portrayed here as a Chris Martin-esque stadium pop-rocker, and his partner Eurydice, who prefers to be called “Riddy” (Aurora Perrineau). Fans of Greek mythology will know roughly what to expect from this storyline, which Chaos is reduced to an exceptionally sad love triangle in which Riddy falls in love with a white boy with sad eyes and is then banished to the underworld, where she falls in love with someone else.

The Greek gods have been reinterpreted in countless ways on screen, appearing in everything from Ray Harryhausen epics to Disney cartoons and ultra-violent video games, but Chaos does little to earn a place in this canon. The way Zeus and his relatives are portrayed doesn’t set them apart in any way from the other toxic families on TV, and even their godly powers are rendered in the most unimaginative of ways: a bit of telekinesis here, a bit of teleportation there.

Zeus throws one of his patented lightning bolts in a later episode of the series, although this happens essentially off-screen. Combined with the fact that Dionysus is the only child of Zeus to appear in the series, the whole thing is a reminder that Deadpool 2 Joke about how 20th Century Fox could only afford to have a few X-Men appear in the film.

Although no effort is made to make the Olympians particularly distinctive, Chaos still suffers from a problem that plagues many streaming-era shows: every piece of clothing looks like a costume. No matter what realm we’re in, everyone’s outfits have that off-the-rack freshness to them. That’s especially noticeable when it comes to the Furies, who may be the least crusty biker gang ever to grace the screen.

More fundamentally, there is real uncertainty about the nature of the series Chaos wants to be. Cast members like Rizwan and Suzy Eddie Izzard (who plays one of the goddesses of fate) relish the chance to chew a bit, while others play their roles with the seriousness of a Greek tragedy. The show doesn’t have a consistent enough internal logic to succeed as an adult fantasy series – at least one plot point hinges on the fact that these nigh-omnipotent deities communicate via landline phone – but it’s also not funny or over-the-top enough to work as a comic farce.