Don’t stop me if you’ve heard this before: A young detective (on the outs with her higher-ups) recognizes a pattern in seemingly unrelated cases, setting her on the hunt for a serial killer… who she has more in common with than either of them expects.
The above description could work as a plug-and-play synopsis for any number of cat-and-mouse crime thrillers. Throw in a grouchy veteran partner, a long-percolating love interest, and a complicated case that leads all the way to the top, and you might be able to sell the pitch to CBS (with the right star attached, maybe Daisy Edgar-Jones?).
But even though “Furious” is drawn up from the crime-genre playbook, it still wields those pieces with great purpose — and to great effect. Elizabeth Meriwether‘s first foray into cops and killers — following her breakthrough sitcom “New Girl” (a “Friends”-esque hangout comedy), award-winning limited series “The Dropout” (an Elizabeth Holmes bio-drama) and second award-winning limited series “Dying for Sex” (a comic weeper of the highest caliber) — is thoughtful, riveting, and rewarding as it ticks off familiar trope after familiar trope. When it comes to genre storytelling, the devil’s in the details, and “Furious” thrives in the nitty-gritty character work and big-picture plotting that makes the routine feel revelatory again.
Our young lead detective is actually a former lead detective. Alice Black (Emmy Rossum) recently left the Brooklyn P.D. to work as a lowly duty agent in the FBI, although “left” is probably too polite a description. After reporting her then-boyfriend and fellow cop, Marshall (Jake Lacy), for domestic abuse, Alice was run out of the boys (in blue) club. No one believed her, wanted to believe her, and/or wanted to cross a respected cop on track to be their superior officer someday.
No one except Danny Kelly (Scoot McNairy), a genuinely stand-up guy who isn’t hiding his true feelings for Alice as well as he thinks. So when he calls her in to consult on a high-profile homicide, she shows up. She walks past the patrol officer who calls her a bitch, and makes quick work of a scene that’s been staged to look like an accidental overdose. The needle marks are “too neat.” His skin is bruised from makeshift restraints. And, oh yeah, we already saw a different young woman kill this guy in the opening scene of the series.
“Furious” starts on Catherine (Lola Petticrew) sitting on a stoop as kids roam the streets on Halloween night. Inside the beautiful brownstone behind her, she treats the son of a billionaire to a trick of her own design: poison. He’s gasping for air, crawling across the floorboards, and trying to escape a death his cat-masked tormentor already knows is inevitable. “I don’t really like listening to you,” Catherine says as the soon-to-be-deceased wheezes his last breaths. “I don’t like the sounds you’re making. But I love your smile.”
He is, of course, not smiling, which invites questions like: “Why would she say that? Is she referencing something?” and “Who would say something so degrading to another human being?” As Catherine continues targeting rich, entitled men, Alice continues to answer those questions, alongside her grouchy veteran partner, Nora (an excellent Quincy Tyler Bernstine) and her long-percolating love interest, while their complicated case leads them well beyond Catherine and all the way to the top!
“Furious” escalates its familiar investigation by taking its tropes and fully fleshing them out, slyly subverting them, or both. Nora, for instance, has been working in the basement too long. (Got a sad and grouchy cop you can’t fire? Stick ’em in the basement!) She watches video evidence of underage sex crimes in a locked room with no windows. She drinks constantly, determined to forget what she’s seen, as well as her inability to help the hundreds of victims the general public prefers to forget (or never acknowledge).
Yes, Alice’s fresh-eyed determination wakes something up in Nora’s hopeless cynic, and yes, this case will be different because of their shared efforts. But “Furious” isn’t interested in clean redemption arcs or cheap criticism. It has a bone-deep respect for Nora’s perspective, which is framed as realistic rather than grim for grim’s sake, and she’s self-aware about her drinking, which goes a long way to outlining the duo’s us-against-the-world mission. Alice, meanwhile, is wrestling with demons of her own, searching for solutions that feel impossible to reach within the bounds of what’s acceptable.
What does justice even look like for people who are chewed up by powerful predators, robbed of their youth (along with the opportunities that come with it), and then spit out on the streets of an apathetic, if not hostile, society — or, worse yet, left as unclaimed ashes in the basement of a county morgue? What punishment is good enough? (Or, perhaps, bad enough?) What relief is lasting? (Or, at least, reasonable?)
Catherine’s solution is vigilantism, but it goes deeper than simple vengeance, and the longer Alice chases her, the more she comes to appreciate her extreme remedy for a problem that, thanks to a flawed legal system, corrupt authority figures, and an apathetic culture, is designed to persist. Meriwether’s series, which was very loosely inspired by the 1987 film “Black Widow,” is comfortable living with the uncomfortable, and she smoothly passes that ease onto the audience, despite the dark subject matter. Then, to find individual answers for problems that feel impossibly large, she homes in on character.
“That’s the world that makes sense,” Nora says. “Women are supposed to be hit and raped and go away and die quietly, not start murdering people.” When she adds that, in her experience, “victims of violence are also the most violent,” it’s clear Nora’s not blaming them; she’s recognizing exactly why that problem persists, too, just as it’s clear she knows it may be taking hold of Alice, as well.
Rossum and Petticrew’s both richly embody the push and pull for their characters’ souls, while their supporting stars provide clear-eyed yet nuanced conviction to drive them toward a resolution. Bernstine brings just enough light to her tortured cop, while McNairy brings just enough anguish to his good-hearted caretaker. (Steve Way is also so funny, sharp, and moving in a role best revealed by the story.) All together, their work takes a story you could claim you’ve heard before and turns it into superlative genre fare that will be hard to forget.
Grade: A-
“Furious” premieres Monday, July 27 on Hulu with three episodes. New episodes will be released weekly through the finale on August 31.