Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? Or witches? Or crime bosses running seedy underground nightclubs? We take a look into three new series that explore the lives of vile villains, be they unhinged Marvel magic users, Batman baddies, or beasts of Beverly Hills. This is where evil lurks.
‘The Penguin’ (HBO Max)
Gotham City is not for the weak of heart. It is the type of metropolis that can easily destroy anyone not willing to fight for what they have, or not fight back against those who wish to take it from them. And within that hellscape, an occasional hero might arise. But this isn’t a story about heroes. Welcome to the underworld of HBO’s The Penguin.
Picking up from where Matt Reeves’s The Batman left off, criminal mastermind and capo of the Falcone crime family Oswald “Oz” Cobb (a completely imperceptible Colin Farrell) is left to pick up the ruins of his life thanks to the destruction caused by the Riddler. With his club eradicated, his crew scattered, and his power left uncertain, the only thing left for Oz to do is rebuild.
With the help of car thief Victor (Rhenzy Feliz), who he can conveniently dump a little exposition upon, the audience quickly learns of the state of Gotham’s gangland and the Falcone family after Carmine’s demise. Fresh out of Arkham, “rehabilitated” serial killer Sofia (a scene-stealing Cristin Milioti) attempts to take her place at the head of the table, only to be sidelined by her father’s former cronies. Add in the Maroni family for a friendly little gang war, and Oz has his hands full with a few sides to play.
Though it seems strange to cast Colin Farrell in a role that requires oodles of prosthetics, body padding, and a nondescript East Coast accent, the actor builds upon his impressive work from The Batman, breathing new life into this revision of the Caped Crusader foe. Now a dutiful son with an itchy trigger finger, a clubbed foot, and a genetic disposition to the soapy-flavored aldehydes in cilantro leaves, this Penguin is far more realized than any previous interpretation, be it Meredith or DeVito.
The Penguin is far from the first Batman saga to exploit a Gotham setting sans the Caped Crusader, but it is one of the best. The series makes good use of the trademark grittiness fans have come to expect from any halfway decent Dark Knight story, but also manages to sneak in a bit of unexpected levity. Without a bemoaning Bruce Wayne to weigh down the narrative, The Penguin offers brief moments of humor and a fun little rogues’ gallery to balance against the darkness. The end result is a far more entertaining product than one would imagine.
Expensive, flashy, and at times, downright mean in all the right ways, The Penguin is unapologetic and unrepentant with its main character. There is no tragic backstory here — no sad sack who turns to the shadows for acceptance or pulls on our heartstrings, but rather a criminal mastermind with a hair-trigger rage and more ambition that can be contained in a chintzy suit. Brimming with violence, engrossing action, and occasional humor to boot, The Penguin is an energetic series that should appeal to any Batman fan, comic-book junkie, or high-octane aficionado looking for a little fun in the mean streets of Gotham after dark.
‘Agatha All Along’ (Disney+)
Double, double toil and trouble; Disney+ seems to be in a heap of trouble,
One lackluster project after another; Fans have turned on the brand and then each other,
Eye of newt and toe of frog, Disney now needs a witch to clear the smog,
Iger’s fork and critics’ sting, No one knows what Harkness will bring.
But if Agatha falls flat, there will be some grumbles; As the MCU continues to crumble.
A spin-off to the successful and acclaimed WandaVision, Agatha All Along is hoping to reclaim a little of the Disney magic that seems to have dwindled since Wanda Maximoff placed the town of Westview under her spell. But that was before Disney+ hit MCU fans with a constant barrage of superhero series filled with meandering plot points and non-essential characters. Now the streamer is going back to the well with the series that put them on the small screen map by focusing on the big bad that started it all: Agatha Harkness, played by the indomitable Kathryn Hahn.
When audiences last left Agatha, she was trapped in a mindset of tradwife Agnes, a character she created to snare the Scarlet Witch. Now three years later, Agatha is stuck in a loop of primetime tropes, playing one hackneyed character after another as the residents of Westfield humor her antics. However, after a house call from a mysterious teen (Joe Locke) and a Green Witch with a bit of a vendetta (Audrey Plaza), Agatha regains her memory, but not her powers. But luckily, she still has her sass.
To regain her “purple,” Agatha requires a helping hand to find the Witches’ Road, a magical plane of existence where she can revive her spark. She begins to cultivate a new coven, which includes live-action versions of Alice Wu-Gulliver, Jennifer Kale and Lilia Calderu (Ali Ahn, Sasheer Zamata and Patti LuPone). And while Agatha and her sloven coven attempt to walk the Road, they are being tailed by the Salem Seven, who have a score to settle with the sorceress.
Agatha‘s true power pulls from Hahn, who shows off her comedy prowess by knocking everything and everyone in her path, from Gwyneth Paltrow’s Goop hustle to Gens X through Z. And the supporting cast is equally bewitching, but that is not surprising given the talent pool. However, the story quickly falls into Hocus Pocus territory with a dab of Wizard of Oz road trip elements, causing the spooky, sardonic tale to turn a bit goofy at times, as Disney vibes overpower the Marvel elements.
Agatha All Along will bewitch those willing to give it a shot, thanks to Hahn’s trademark cheekiness and a good amount of caustic dialogue. However, those not invested in Marvel Comics deep-lore or femme-based fantasy series will probably turn away from the series that seemingly strays away from mainstream MCU storylines. But much of the show’s sorcery stems from a central character, who is nothing less than enchanting. Who’s the real draw behind Agatha? It was Hahn all along.
‘Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story’ (Netflix)
On Aug. 20, 1989, Lyle and Erik Menendez took the lives of their well-do-to parents José and Kitty, which was depicted by the media as a massive case of affluenza and an attempt to cash in on their inheritance a bit early. But in Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan’s Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story, the series attempts to make a case that there are at least two sides to every story, and far more monsters.
Last year, both Evan Peters and Niecy Nash dazzled in Dahmer – Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story, the first installment of the serial killer series that won accolades for the actors as it delved not only into the life of the depraved Dahmer, but his suspicious neighbor, his innocent victims, and inept law enforcement that kept the maniac on the streets. Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story offers a similar lens into the lives of the brothers grim, as the series explores the dynamics of the dysfunctional family, as well as friends, associates, and their social circles. Almost four decades after the murders, the Netflix series explores the Menendez brothers’ claims of self-defense as stated by their defense team, who asserted that their parents were verbally, physically and sexually abusive towards the duo.
In this saga, everyone is a monster. Cooper Koch and Nicholas Alexander Chavez step into the roles of easily agitated Lyle and his distraught brother Erik, while Javier Bardem and Chloë Sevigny portray the volatile, unbalanced José and Kitty. The series depicts the Menendez family at the mercy of a controlling father while concurrently vilifying the brothers. No one escapes unscathed as Monster places the infamous trials under the microscope for the amusement and analysis of Netflix audiences.
Like its predecessor, Monsters is about the creation of urban boogeymen and the havoc they wreak. But Monsters also examines how they were shaped not just by their circumstances, but by the era in which they lived. More of a period piece than an exposé that divulges into the dark side of humanity, Monsters is propelled both by the performances and the ’80s references that it oozes, from the songs of Milli Vanilli to every meticulous popped collar.
But beyond the fastidious details, the story itself is uneven. While Monsters is direct with its villains, there is a clear lack of protagonists as the series creates a world populated by people who lack even a hint of empathy. Consequently, Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story creates a fascinating dramatization thanks to over-the-top performances from its cast, but fails to reach the bar set by Dahmer.
