If there’s a reason a bizarre crime series where a bitter, addiction-ravaged riff on Muppet creator Jim Henson deals with the nightmarish disappearance of his son has become a hit on Netflix, apart from the massive marketing of the service. scope, of course; It’s probably the presence of Benedict Cumberbatch. Ericwhere Cumberbatch plays Vincent Sullivan, the creator of a Sesame Street-as a show, it could have gotten some attention with someone else in the lead role, but it seems designed (maybe even over-designed) to take advantage of what audiences seem to like about Cumberbatch: his earnest but vaguely ostentatious disdain for the world at large .
Sometimes this takes the form of an intellectual game so advanced that normal interactions appear to be occurring in an incredibly simple beginner’s way, as in sherlock, the BBC Holmes adaptation that first made him famous; Sometimes this takes the form of mystical powers so vast that they seem to be operating on a different plane than even other superheroes, as in his portrayal of Doctor Strange. He sometimes he is a real life genius, like in the biopic. The imitation game. Eric applies Cumberbatch’s personality to a more specific idea: he is a Henson-style genius, but predictably prickly and tortured, with a kind of purist conservatism that seems anathema to all of Henson/Sesame Street deal. When Vincent’s young son Edgar disappears from the streets of New York on his way to school, Vincent becomes increasingly unraveled. (He also becomes, for a time, a suspect in the boy’s disappearance.) He is convinced, among other things, that if he fully realizes the puppet that Edgar has designed, the boy will return home. Once he settles on that idea, Vincent receives advice from an imaginary version of that puppet, who offers him simple advice, also voiced by Cumberbatch, naturally.
The series, created by Abi Morgan, uses Cumberbatch and his somewhat unlikely popularity to hide a story element in plain sight. Over time it becomes clear that Vincent is not just a moody artist who drinks too much and can treat people insensitively; He is a terrible father who Edgar fears greatly. This should be more obvious than he is; Because Cumberbatch is in the role, there is a certain degree of acceptance of his character’s bad behavior, especially when he can be intellectualized as part of a unique and valuable skill set. When a fellow puppeteer tersely observes that puppets have appeal because “they can say the things we can’t,” there is an unspoken flip side that applies to Vincent. He may consider himself a caustic truth-teller, a man who doesn’t need a puppet, but in reality he is someone who says everything he shouldn’t.
However, it is a conceit that the show ultimately exaggerates in an attempt to increase the reach of the show. Set in New York City in the mid-80s, Eric It has a little more propulsion than the motto of the puppeteer losing his mind would suggest. Edgar’s case is handled by Detective Ledroit (McKinley Belcher III), who attempts to link the disappearance to another missing child. Despite some geographic overlap, almost no one makes the connection because Cecile’s son Marlon (Adepero Oduye) is black, while Edgar is white. We know this because the characters say it out loud repeatedly. The show interweaves these two cases to present a contrast between “justice” as it is found for a wealthy white family, as opposed to the single black mother whose pain is allowed to sit and rot.
In doing so, Eric is the victim of a new hybrid form of prestige-television arrogance: an insistence on somehow functioning as a vehicle for a white star, as well as a devastating critique of the systemic inequalities that the white character encounters, but is not. directly affected by. There is an equally strange dynamic at work in recent years. Under the bridge, a true crime adaptation told partly from the perspective of a writer played by Riley Keough. Keough plays a fictional version of writer Rebecca Godfrey, who investigates the murder of a teenager in her hometown and is paired with an old friend turned local cop. That cop is Cam Bentland (Lily Gladstone), a native who has been adopted by a white family and works alongside her police father. Although the miniseries is based on Godfrey’s book and real events, the character of Cam is completely invented, and a story related to appalling adoption practices involving Native children in the 1970s seems uncomfortably wedged into the narrative at hand. .
“Eric is the victim of a new hybrid form of prestige-television arrogance: an insistence on somehow functioning as a vehicle for a white star, as well as a devastating critique of the systemic inequalities that the white character encounters, but is not. directly affected by.”
Under the bridge He has a stronger structural reason for inventing Cam and the way his story with Rebecca is less compelling than that of the teenagers they’re investigating. Much of the teen story takes place in the past, while Cam and Rebecca keep the story rooted in presence. And on a more practical level, Keough and Gladstone are such commanding actors that they create a kind of symmetry, at least, in the show’s uneven mix of fact and fiction. Like Cumberbatch in EricThey are the hook that takes you to a more complicated story.
Cumberbatch is a significantly bigger star than any of them, but he’s more adrift in Eric. There’s a tenuous connection to the points the show makes about the gentrification of New York City and the idyllic, kid-friendly version of urban life perpetuated by Vincent’s puppet show. But while pursuing an urgent and terrifying investigation into a child’s disappearance, the show makes countless detours into Vincent’s breakdown, hammering home every detail (his rich, bankrupt parents, his heavy drinking, his disturbing conversations with a large monster). . puppet that only he can see) scene after scene after scene. Sometimes writers debate between showing and telling; Eric makes the complete decision to do both, showing Vincent’s behavior in detail while also having the characters reference his “biting wit.”
That’s what people are here to see, the show seems to think: Benedict Cumberbatch making his scathing comments. The idea, presumably, is for them to stay and learn a lesson about inequality, privilege, and the plight of New York’s homeless population. But wait: it’s not like Eric It is a pre-existing text that Morgan is delving into and recontextualizing. It was his idea in the first place, and as it plays out in the series, it’s pretty tedious. Why is this show making up an evil Benedict Cumberbatch character as a feint? Especially when his descent into madness and his potential redemption are so ill-conceived? Ledroit’s character has a lot going on: he is gay and locked up in a less tolerant time, his lover is dying of AIDS, he is receiving rejection from his superiors for his research even though he is not necessarily a nonconformist by nature. , that could easily be the focus of a television series. It’s particularly telling that he only has a few scenes with Cumberbatch’s character, who is bottoming out in most episodes; It’s like they’re on completely separate shows.
Of course, Cumberbatch’s presence probably helped sell the show to Netflix and will attract some eyeballs that might otherwise overlook a grim story about a missing child and the cops who don’t care. However, it is difficult not to wonder if Eric he’s too eager to use his star to work within the system, rather than change it.
Jesse Hassenger@rockmarooned) is a writer who lives in Brooklyn. He is a regular contributor to The AV Club, Polygon, and The Week, among others. He podcasts on www.sportsalcohol.comalso.
