It’s 1959. Miami Beach is basically the center of the universe. If you weren’t there, you were nobody, or at least that’s what the Miramar Hotel wanted you to think. I’m talking about the Starz series Magic City, a show that felt like it was carved out of a solid block of expensive marble and then splashed with a bucket of neon-blue Atlantic seawater. It was gorgeous. It was brutal. Honestly, it was gone way too soon.
When people talk about the "Golden Age of Television," they usually point to the heavy hitters. Mad Men. Breaking Bad. The Sopranos. But Magic City occupies this weird, shimmering space in TV history. It wasn't just a period piece; it was a snapshot of a specific, sweaty, high-stakes moment in American history where the Mob, the CIA, and the Cuban Revolution all crashed together at a hotel bar. It’s been years since it went off the air, but the legacy of the show persists because it captured a vibe that no one has quite managed to replicate since.
The Miramar wasn't just a set, it was a character
Most TV shows use sets as backdrops. Not this one. The Miramar Playaround was based heavily on the legendary Fontainebleau and Eden Roc hotels, and it breathed. You could almost smell the expensive cigars and the salt air through the screen. Mitch Glazer, the show’s creator, actually grew up in these hotels. He was a cabana boy. He saw the real-life versions of these characters—the high-rollers, the thugs, the starlets—with his own eyes. That’s why it feels so authentic even when the plot gets a little wild.
I think that's what most people get wrong about Magic City. They think it’s just a Mad Men clone in a swimsuit. It’s not. It’s much grittier. While Don Draper was worried about selling cigarettes, Ike Evans was worried about the literal mobsters who owned the land his dream was built on. Jeffrey Dean Morgan played Ike with this incredible, simmering desperation. He was a "clean" businessman who was constantly getting his hands filthy just to keep the lights on. It’s a classic American tragedy, really. The guy who wants the American Dream so badly he’s willing to deal with the devil to get it.
And the devil, in this case, was Danny Huston’s Ben "The Butcher" Diamond.
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Huston was terrifying. There’s no other word for it. He didn’t play Ben Diamond like a cartoon villain; he played him like a predator who was bored with his food. The way he inhabited that cabana, surrounded by luxury but radiating pure, unadulterated malice, was a masterclass. You never knew if he was going to offer Ike a drink or have him tossed off the roof. That tension was the engine of the show.
Why the history of Magic City is actually accurate
A lot of historical dramas play fast and loose with the facts. Magic City definitely stylized things—the colors were brighter, the clothes were sharper—but the bones of the story were rooted in what was actually happening in Miami in 1959.
Take the Cuban Revolution.
The show starts exactly when Castro is taking power. This isn't just background noise; it changes everything for the Miramar. Suddenly, the gambling money that used to flow through Havana is looking for a new home. Miami becomes the "Magic City" because it's the closest port of call for all that displaced vice and ambition. The show tracks this brilliantly. We see the influx of refugees, the panic of the wealthy elite who lost their sugar plantations, and the CIA’s shadowy involvement in trying to "fix" the situation.
- The 1959 setting was pivotal because it marked the end of the "Old Guard" and the start of the Cold War era.
- The inclusion of Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. types (though often renamed or referenced) highlighted the intersection of celebrity and crime.
- The legal battles over gambling and labor unions in the show mirrored the real-life struggles of the era’s "Hotel Row."
It's fascinating to look back at. We see Ike trying to manage a labor strike while simultaneously hiding the fact that his silent partner is a murderous sociopath. It's high-wire acting. The stakes weren't just about money; they were about the soul of the city.
The visual language of 1950s Miami
Let’s talk about how the show looked. Because, wow.
The cinematography by Gabriel Beristain was something else. He used a palette that felt like a Kodachrome slide come to life. Everything was saturated. The teals, the pinks, the deep golds of the lobby—it created this sense of hyper-reality. It made the violence feel even more shocking when it happened because everything else was so beautiful.
There’s a specific scene in the pilot where the camera pans across the pool area, and you see the underwater windows where people in the bar can watch the swimmers. It’s a real feature of those mid-century hotels. It perfectly captures the voyeuristic nature of the show. Everyone is watching everyone else. Everyone has a secret. Everyone is looking for an angle.
The costumes by Carol Ramsey were equally essential. Ike’s sharp, tailored suits acted as his armor. Vera’s (played by Olga Kurylenko) dresses were stunning, but they also showed her transformation from a world-class dancer to a woman trapped in a golden cage. The clothes told the story before the actors even opened their mouths.
Why Starz canceled it and what happened next
Honestly, the cancellation hurt. After two seasons, Starz pulled the plug in 2013. The ratings weren't quite where they needed to be, and the show was incredibly expensive to produce. You can’t recreate 1959 Miami on a shoestring budget. If the cars aren't right and the sets don't sparkle, the whole illusion falls apart.
There was a lot of talk about a movie. For a while, it looked like it was actually going to happen. Bill Murray and Bruce Willis were even rumored to be joining the cast for a big-screen wrap-up. Mitch Glazer wrote a script that was supposedly going to pick up where the cliffhanger left off. But, as often happens in Hollywood, the project got stuck in development hell.
It’s a shame because the second season ended on such a massive note. Ike was finally making his move against Ben Diamond. The family was fractured. The political landscape was shifting. We never got to see the payoff of all that slow-burn tension.
The legacy of the show in 2026
Looking back from where we are now, Magic City feels ahead of its time. It paved the way for other stylish, high-budget period dramas that weren't afraid to be slow and atmospheric. It showed that Miami has a history just as dark and compelling as New York or Chicago.
If you go to Miami today, you can still find traces of this era. The Mid-Beach area is undergoing a huge revival, with people restoring those old MiMo (Miami Modern) buildings. There’s a nostalgia for that specific brand of "cool" that the show captured so perfectly.
What really sticks with me is the show's exploration of family. At its heart, it was a story about a father trying to protect his sons from the world he’d helped create. Stevie Evans (Steven Strait) was the impulsive one, getting too close to the fire, while Danny (Christian Cooke) was the "good" son who eventually realized his father wasn't the hero he thought he was. That dynamic—the corruption of innocence—is timeless.
How to experience the Magic City vibe today
If you’re a fan of the show or just curious about that era, you don’t have to just sit and re-watch the episodes (though they are still available on various streaming platforms). You can actually go and see where this history happened.
First, visit the Fontainebleau Miami Beach. Even with all the modern renovations, the "Staircase to Nowhere" is still there. This was the pinnacle of Morris Lapidus's design philosophy—a place for people to walk down just to be seen.
Second, check out the Wolfsonian-FIU museum in South Beach. They have an incredible collection of 1950s design and propaganda that puts the show's political themes into context. It helps you understand the aesthetics of the time weren't just about "looking good"; they were about projecting power and modernity.
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Lastly, look into the history of the Meyer Lansky era in Miami. While the characters in the show are fictional, the environment they inhabited was very much shaped by Lansky’s "business" methods. Reading up on the real-life Syndicate operations in South Florida makes the show even more impressive in its attention to detail.
Moving forward with the Miramar mindset
The biggest takeaway from Magic City isn't just about the suits or the cars. It’s about the cost of ambition. Ike Evans had everything, but he lived in a state of constant fear because his foundation was built on sand. It’s a reminder that in any "Magic City," the lights are bright for a reason—to keep you from seeing what’s happening in the shadows.
If you want to dive deeper into this world, start by watching the series with a focus on the background details. Pay attention to the news reports on the radios and the newspapers the characters are reading. Look for the way the lighting changes when Ike moves from the bright lobby to the dark backrooms.
You should also seek out the soundtrack. The music was a curated mix of late 50s pop, mambo, and early rock and roll that perfectly underscored the tension of a changing America. It's the kind of show that rewards a second look because you realize just how much work went into making that world feel lived-in.
Don't just take the show at face value. Use it as a jumping-off point to learn about the actual history of the 1959 Cuban Revolution’s impact on Florida. Understand the labor movements of the time. The show is a gateway into a part of American history that is often overlooked in favor of the 1960s counter-culture. Before the hippies, there were the High-Rollers, and their story is just as wild.
Seek out the "Magic City" that still exists in the architecture and the stories of the people who were there. The Miramar might be fictional, but the spirit of that era is still very much alive in the humidity of a Miami night. Go find the remaining MiMo architecture along Biscayne Boulevard to see the "real" versions of the motels featured in the show's grittier scenes. It's a preserved slice of history that proves the show's creators knew exactly what they were trying to honor.