With ‘The Studio,’ Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg Grow Up. Sort Of.

Amoeba Records on Hollywood Boulevard is hardly an ideal shopping spot for someone as recognizable as Seth Rogen. Nestled just a few blocks away from the Chinese Theater, and right by the Walk of Fame stars of Dr. Phil and Dr. Oz, it’s one of the least discreet places for a celebrity to browse in peace.

However, between interruptions from an ever-growing crowd of enthusiastic fans—including one sporting toe shoes and a Lil Dicky shirt and another moved to tears—Amoeba proved to be an excellent place to sift through an extensive collection of vinyl soundtracks. It was the Tuesday before the Oscars, and Rogen was accompanied by his longtime collaborator, Evan Goldberg, for a record-hunting excursion and a conversation about their latest project: “The Studio,” a bold and star-studded industry satire for Apple TV+ that premiered that Wednesday.

Rogen’s wife had assigned him the task of expanding their jazz collection—an apt mission given the show’s jazz-infused score and its largely improvisational style, often filmed in long, continuous takes. But as both Rogen and Goldberg, friends since their teenage years, acknowledged, their musical tastes had been shaped primarily by their shared love of movies.

Unsurprisingly, their first stop was the soundtrack section, where notable finds included a reissue of The Three Amigos—a film Rogen proclaimed as one of his all-time favorites—and two copies of the soundtrack for Soul Man, a 1986 comedy centered on a white student who pretends to be Black to secure a Harvard scholarship. “Different times,” as people often say.

“This is crazy—I was literally just talking about this movie at work yesterday,” Goldberg remarked.

“It does have a good soundtrack,” Rogen offered hesitantly.

Then, in perfect synchrony, they both voiced a pressing concern:

“Is it problematic to buy this?”

“Is it problematic to own this?”

In hindsight, it was a moment loaded with irony. Holding the Soul Man soundtrack in their hands, two comedians who have spent decades testing the boundaries of mainstream humor found themselves confronting a prime example of what not to do.

Unlike that outdated brand of comedy, Rogen and Goldberg’s signature mix of heartfelt, raunchy stoner humor has evolved over the years, successfully navigating changing social attitudes. Not every joke—and certainly not every career from their early circle—has withstood the passage of time as well as they have.

Their latest show, The Studio, in which Rogen portrays the overwhelmed head of a fictional major studio, is a reflection of that evolution. No longer the young Canadian outsiders cracking jokes from the sidelines, Rogen and Goldberg are now seasoned producers in their 40s with the power to shape careers. Yet, their attire—shorts and sneakers—along with their high-end cannabis accessories business, suggest they haven’t entirely shed their laid-back personas. (Rogen remains one of Hollywood’s most outspoken cannabis aficionados.)

Looking down at the Soul Man soundtrack, Goldberg made a definitive call.

“We should buy it,” he said. “How much is it?”

“Only four bucks,” Rogen noted. “We have to get the Soul Man soundtrack.”

Goldberg grinned. “Just so people ask, ‘What is that?’ And then we can explain: ‘Oh, let me tell you about this…’”

And so, their purchase became its own meta-commentary—simultaneously questionable, amusing, and absurd. They gleefully added it to their haul.

The Perks of Flying Under the Radar

Goldberg has a distinct advantage: he gets to sidestep much of the public scrutiny that comes with being Rogen. He openly relishes the anonymity. Recently, Rogen mentioned on a podcast that a host had commented, “I would be jealous if I were Evan.” When Rogen relayed this story at Amoeba, Goldberg’s response was immediate: “That guy needs therapy.”

The sheer volume of celebrity cameos in The Studio, many portraying exaggerated versions of themselves, has further shielded Goldberg from the spotlight. While he and Rogen co-created and directed all ten episodes alongside Peter Huyck, Alex Gregory, and Frida Perez, the media frenzy has primarily revolved around the show’s A-list ensemble. The premiere alone featured Steve Buscemi, Bryan Cranston, Paul Dano, Martin Scorsese, and Charlize Theron. The main cast includes Ike Barinholtz, Kathryn Hahn, Catherine O’Hara, and Chase Sui Wonders.

“There are so many famous people in it that no one wants to talk to me, and I love it,” Goldberg said. “I’m like the ninth person on the list of people they want to interview.” For someone whose creative fingerprints have been all over American comedy for nearly two decades, this relative invisibility is a luxury.

Not long ago, Rogen and Goldberg were just two high schoolers in Vancouver, British Columbia, diligently working on a script inspired by their own adolescent experiences—one that would eventually become Superbad.

Their careers took off swiftly. At 16, Rogen landed a role on NBC’s cult favorite Freaks and Geeks, which was canceled after one season but earned him the mentorship of producer Judd Apatow. Apatow encouraged Rogen’s foray into writing and producing, while Goldberg remained in Canada for college before eventually joining him in Los Angeles. Together, they landed writing jobs on Da Ali G Show and later collaborated with Apatow on refining Superbad.

“They spent years trying to perfect that script,” Apatow later recalled. “They were relentless.”

When Knocked Up and Superbad debuted in 2007, both films became box office hits, earning hundreds of millions of dollars and solidifying Rogen and Goldberg as formidable forces in Hollywood. More importantly, they had succeeded in making Superbad exactly as they had envisioned—a rare feat for young filmmakers working within a studio system.

An Unbreakable Partnership

On set, Rogen and Goldberg’s dynamic remains uniquely harmonious. Unlike many creative duos, they rarely argue. Chase Sui Wonders, who plays an ambitious junior executive in The Studio, described their connection as almost telepathic. Ike Barinholtz, who plays the studio’s second-in-command, observed: “They genuinely make each other laugh, and that energy is infectious.”

David Gordon Green, director of Pineapple Express, has worked with numerous long-term collaborators, including Danny McBride, but he sees something special in Rogen and Goldberg’s partnership. “They know when to challenge each other, when to step back, and when to support each other,” he said.

A Love Letter Disguised as Satire

Unsurprisingly, The Studio is as much an affectionate tribute to Hollywood as it is a satirical takedown. Since their 20s, Rogen and Goldberg have operated within the studio system, which, for all its flaws, has treated them well.

A recurring gag in The Studio involves Rogen’s character, Matt, struggling to make a Kool-Aid Man movie without compromising his artistic integrity. When asked how much of Matt’s internal conflict mirrors his own, Rogen didn’t hesitate: “All of it.”

As we exited Amoeba, arms full of vinyl, we passed a group of aging fans camped out for a Rick Springfield concert. They clocked Rogen instantly. One man called out for a selfie, then returned moments later for a better one. Rogen, as ever, obliged with a weary but good-natured smile.

Goldberg, as usual, lingered on the sidelines—content to observe, detached yet entertained, relieved to remain the man just outside the frame.