Colman Domingo stars in the Netflix thriller

It plays like an Alfred Hitchcock thriller, Wrong Man in the Wrong Place, if you replace a Jimmy Stewart-style Everyman with Netflix’s Shaft The madness is an eight-part thriller based on the theory that Colman Domingo, given the right opportunity, is capable of being the baddest mutha on the planet. And as proof of this theory, it is quite successful.

The show is a pure star vehicle for Domingo – like people sat in a room and thought of cool things Colman Domingo could do, cool things Colman Domingo could say and cool things Colman Domingo could wear, and then Colman Domingo released to improve it even more coolness. There’s an underlying giddiness in almost every frame that the hard-working Emmy-winning and Oscar-nominated star gets to do this. And since the premiere date falls on his 55th birthday, it’s a real gift for an actor who certainly deserves this exposure.

However, the vehicle around Domingo is overall less pleasing. For three or four episodes it’s straight-up, run-of-the-mill mush with just enough insight into the real world to give it some bite. But the second half becomes increasingly generic conspiracy-themed, leading to a two-part conclusion that’s more self-congratulatory and hypocritical than the previous plot could justify.

Domingo plays Muncie Daniels, a former teacher and community activist turned progressive television pundit. At the beginning of the story, Muncie, who lives in Philadelphia, is about to realize a dream: he is a guest host of an evening talk show on CNN and his friend and agent Kwesi (Deon Cole) is sure that if that works out, he will be a regular host The gig could be next.

Things are going well for Muncie, but not perfect. He and his wife Elena (Marsha Stephanie Blake) are on the verge of divorce, his doting son (Thaddeus J. Mixson’s Demetrius) is a huge weed fan, and his daughter (Gabrielle Graham’s Kallie) is almost a stranger to him. Muncie is also having trouble working on a book, so he heads to a cabin in the Poconos.

Then, after a power outage, Muncie goes into the cabin next door and discovers its occupant (Tahmoh Penikett) being dismembered by two masked men. Soon he’s on the run from a variety of groups and organizations, including the local police, the FBI, and an internet-fueled legion of white supremacists – did I mention the guy next door was a far-right influencer? – and various corporate gangsters. Muncie is an emerging figure in a media landscape that too often highlights discord. Now he’s caught up in his own conspiracy, and it leads to…nowhere interesting, really.

The madness was created by Stephen Belber (band) and the fact that his background is primarily in theater rather than long-winded yarn spinning is evident in the rudimentary structure of the narrative. Muncie jumps back and forth between Philadelphia, New York City, and the Poconos without regard to time or geography, and the way Muncie conducts his investigation feels like a first draft. Maybe it’s because Muncie isn’t a detective and doesn’t have the instincts of a detective that he travels from one place to the next finding one lead at a time, but it feels like the outline of a mystery, not a secret.

Along the way he falls into fringe groups on both the right and the left and, when in doubt, returns to a skeptical FBI agent, played by John Ortiz, and a wise and well-connected cigar shop owner, played by Stephen McKinley Henderson (the latter in his second part ) back great Netflix performance this month).

There are times when The madnesswith VJ Boyd (Justified) as co-showrunner shows some welcome nuances. Although much of it was filmed in Ontario, the series gives a good impression of Philadelphia as a layered powder keg of a city. His targeted references range from MOVE to the demographic makeup of several neighborhoods to the Penn and Temple land acquisitions and their impact on the local real estate market. For authenticity, characters occasionally say “jawn.” Since Domingo is a Philly guy, I’m assuming he pushed for these details.

The details on these marginalized groups are less effective. A story about the Poconos neighbor’s estranged wife (Tamsin Topolski’s Lucie) is a lot more, “Hey, let’s humanize white nationalists in a predictable way” than I could use. The way these factions intersect with the media, the darker corners of the internet, and generic American capitalism is meant to be represented by the series’ title, but nothing here is really wild enough to do it justice.

There’s a transition, especially when it becomes clear that Muncie’s increasing paranoia and mental illness in the family isn’t really what the series is about The madness To The boredom. By the finale, which is designed to force Muncie to make big personal decisions, I stopped accepting any of what the show was saying in the larger scheme of things. The final clarification of the conspiratorial revelations is a major failure.

What lasts The madness As you may have guessed, it’s Colman Domingo who keeps him from ever becoming something entirely disposable. In the opening minutes, we see enough of Muncie’s life – he enjoys long runs and is trained in jiu-jitsu – that his transformation into an almost pure action hero seems justified. Other details about the character, like his background as a teacher and community organizer or his passionate but disturbed father, are purely exposition, or at least the gilding surrounding the otherwise “wrongly accused person goes on the run to clear his name,” Lily.

Domingo infuriates Muncie, but more than anything he captures the frustrating inconvenience of the situation he’s found himself in. Muncie may come from a blue-collar background, but he enjoys the finer things. He spends most of the series in a spectacular and incredibly versatile peacoat. When he tries to avoid attracting attention in public, a pair of designer sunglasses helps him. When he has to go undercover at a snooty club, it’s not enough to borrow just any suit – he borrows a perfectly tailored suit from Tom Ford.

I didn’t look until the end credits to see which brands received “promotional consideration” for their associations with Domingo, but I guarantee that Netflix is ​​leaving money on the table by not offering a “For More About Colman Domingo’s” insert wardrobe, go to…” Call-to-action link at the end of each episode.

The directors, including Clément Virgo for the first and last two episodes of the season, understand the proverbial brief. Whether Muncie is sitting in a seedy motel smoking a joint in a hoodie or running through the woods on a hunt with henchmen, Domingo is constantly lit and framed with a precision usually afforded to a Tom Cruise or the industry’s Timothée Chalamet of the week is reserved.

The supporting cast is bolstered by veteran character actors like Henderson and Ortiz, as well as the always welcome Cole, who got his own comparable vehicle with the award Average Joe. (This film aired on BET+ and so didn’t get as much attention.) Two additional character actors are also pretty good – one gets a great standalone scene and the other appears briefly in midseason as a mediocre villain. I wish the actors playing Muncie’s family had more to do, although I thought Kallie’s character and Graham’s performance had interesting aspects that enriched the series.

I kept watching Domingo’s performance here and thought of Bob Odenkirk No oneconsidering how much fun it is to watch actors exploit this kind of anti-type casting. I don’t want them to do every project, but it’s one of those brass rings that every great sketch comedy guy or musical theater guy should have at some point in their career.

If someone wants to give Domingo the opportunity to shoot guns, choke bad guys, rant about income equality, and strut down alleys in a jacket so that random onlookers have to give him cool compliments on his clothes, then I’m here for it. Although I wish the show around him could do a better job of maintaining its momentum throughout the entire duration.