'Smoke' series review: Apple TV+ crime drama plays with fire, Taron Egerton & Jurnee Smollett

Apple TV+

Where there's smoke, there's fire. And where there's a new miniseries called Smoke, there's something charred, like fragile souls of men. Someone who knows a thing or two about that is David "Dave" Gudsen (Taron Egerton), a former firefighter and current arson investigator in the city of Umberland. There are two suspected serial arsonists terrorising the community so Dave receives a brand new partner in Michelle Calderone (Jurnee Smollett), a detective seemingly demoted to less important duties like arson by her superior Steven Burke (Rafe Spall) as some form of career sabotage. Under the watchful eye of Dave's own superior, chief Harvey Englehart (Greg Kinnear), the dynamic duo begins to hunt down and build profiles for the arsonists. One seems to point in the direction of an emotionally and socially stunted fast food worker named Freddy Fasano (Ntare Guma Mbaho Mwine) while the other one looks to be a trickier case.

Adapted from (or "inspired" by) the podcast 'Firebug', this crime drama is created and showrun by Dennis Lehane who reunites with Egerton to interrogate complex, scummy douchebags with the infinite ability to yap, but this time on the other side of the law. That source material is perhaps best to be avoided for spoiler(ish) reasons, even if some of the twists are quite obvious, but also because Lehane and his fellow writers do heat up an engaging story that is both a whodunnit and a whydunnit. This story takes a look at masculinity, self-image and how they're tied with someone's desperate thirst for attention, and why that might manifest itself in violence. The arson angle is also a nice niche in the very tired detective genre, and the hyperfocus on this specific criminal activity opens up opportunities for different kinds of personalities and conflicts.

While the outline is in great shape and there are bits of brilliance to be found, the actual content of the series is rather messy and inadequate. When it comes to scenes themselves, the quality of the writing is all over the place to put it nicely. The show and its directors (including Joe Chappelle and Kari Skogland) aren't able to pick a tone or a consistent way to shift between a couple of them, which makes it quite hard to understand where the characters are coming from at any given time, and that's before you get to the meat of the character arcs that have some baffling developments.

There are too many storylines that do not work whatsoever. Dave's domestic life (Hannah Emily Anderson plays his wife Ashley), which features horrendous dialogue and one of the most annoying teen brats ever put on screen (Luke Roessler as Emmett, Ashley's son from previous relationship); Harvey's personal secrets that become a plot convenience; Michelle's family drama; Michelle and Steven's affair, as well as Dave's own escapades, where the tonal inconsistencies are at their most apparent. Some would be spoilers but the list goes on and on. All this adds up to bloated episode runtimes and a bloated season of TV. There's a scene after scene of subpar material that should've been put out of its misery and left on the cutting room floor when you can clearly see that it's not substantial enough. Nine episodes feels like an inferno.

Egerton is the perfect representation of the dissonance as he's often—like American and British actors in general—too invested in his accent work and he isn't able to let his character control the machine. It's no surprise that he channels the most fascinating and creepy version of Dave when the accent isn't the main focus, like whenever Dave stops yapping. Smollett does a fine job despite her uneven character, while Mwine is making the biggest acting choices, and they're always at least interesting if not even affecting, though he also becomes a victim of too much screen time because some of the scenes featuring Freddy's social interactions are terribly written as well. John Leguizamo, playing Dave's disgraced ex-colleague Ezra Esposito, manages to bring some sauce into the show in an entertaining character actor part when he's introduced later on. Leguizamo is the clear standout as he becomes a great sparring partner for Smollett especially.

Visually and sonically, Smoke is mostly sound, although starting each episode with a Thom Yorke tune that is one of the worst, dreariest main themes in TV history is pretty dismaying, and Egerton also seems to leverage his executive producer credit to reuse Bonnie Tyler's smash hit 'Holding Out For A Hero' in his projects. There's quite a bit of striking cinematography (François Dagenais, Sam McCurdy), and quality makeup and hair design that translates thematically towards the end. This helps Lehane and co. occasionally find the heartbeat of the show, which is a tense cat-and-mouse thriller and power struggle with a few critical switcheroos. The finale, emphasised by a few fantastic score cues by composers Danny Bensi and Saunder Jurriaans, as well as episodes five and seven are prime examples of that, but it's a long way to get there and consistency is a major problem even within those better episodes.

Crashing and burning in a disorganised and overlong fashion, the series ends up squandering its chance to tell a tight, energetic crime story—despite having a solid hook and looking pretty damn great in the process. Bummer.

Smileys: Story, John Leguizamo

Frowneys: Runtime, tone, writing

Never tell a man that their book or podcast idea is good. You'll live to regret it.

2.0/5

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