Black Rabbit (Netflix) - Review 

Rating: 4 out of 5

TV doesn’t get much more intense than Black Rabbit, a new Netflix series created by married couple Zach Baylin (King Richard) and Kate Susman that seeks to emulate the pressure cooker likes of Adam Sandler’s Uncut Gems and Sidney Lumet’s Before The Devil Knows You’re Dead.

Set in present day New York, yet evoking the mid-2000s with its music choices and main restaurant being very much modelled on the Spotted Big (one of the go to Big Apple venues of that era), the story follows two brothers, Jake (Jude Law) and Vince Friedken (Jason Bateman), as they reunite after a prolonged estrangement and attempt to rule the city.

Yet thanks to a highly combustible mix of Vince’s gambling debts and addictive personality, Jake’s ambition (he’s juggling running the Black Rabbit of the title with opening a new venture at The Pool Room, another of New York’s high class eating venues) and both men’s childhood trauma, the potential for chaos is never far away.

And given that Baylin and Susman have described the drama as a tragedy, you know things aren’t going to go well.

What perhaps you might not expect is the huge emotional gut punch the show eventually delivers - emerging from almost 8 hours of tension building and high stakes double dealing to become a powerful tale of brotherly love and PTSD.

The finale is a bittersweet affair that ends things decisively and, at times, painfully. It doesn’t pull its punches but, in doing so, leaves a genuinely lasting impression.

Prior to that, the series opens with an armed robbery at the Black Rabbit restaurant, in which two masked gunmen interrupt a party at which expensive watches are being sold and various clientele appear to be celebrating the latest achievements in the restaurant’s continuing evolution.

As all hell breaks loose, the action cuts and flashes back to the events leading to this.

Primary among them is the return to New York of Vince, a serial loser who had left in the first place due to escalating debt to a gangster, Joe Mancuso (played with genuine relish by Oscar winner Troy Kotsur), with deep connections to his family’s past.

Vince initially tries to conceal this from Jake, while simultaneously trying to reconcile with his estranged daughter. But events quickly spiral beyond his control as his usual propensity for making bad decisions once again places him and all those around him in jeopardy.

For Jake, this couldn’t come at a worse time as he is also prone to bad decisions, while seemingly appearing more successful. For Jake has a seemingly compulsive need to live beyond his means, embezzling from the Rabbit to afford his rented penthouse while courting investors to fund a lavish new venture (the aforementioned Pool Room, situated on the site of the former Four Seasons, a restaurant Hollie and I frequented on the night we got engaged).

He is also about to embark on an equally ill-advised romance with interior designer Estelle (Cleopatra Coleman), the girlfriend of his close friend, business partner and successful singer Wes (Gangs of London’s Sope Dirisu).

Threats abound from all sides, however, as the harmony of the Rabbit is also threatened by a sex scandal involving one of its staff members (the ill fated Anna, played by Abby Lee) and another high rolling client (John Ales’ connected gallery owner Jules) - the discovery and potential cover-up of which prompts the Rabbit’s celebrated female chef Roxie (Amaka Okafor) to question Jake’s position within the set-up.

There’s a lot going on and the tension builds steadily throughout the eight episodes, occasionally hitting fever pitch as various bad decisions reach devastating consequences for several of the characters involved.

Given that Baylin and Susman have cited Uncut Gems as an inspiration, it’s little surprise to find that Black Rabbit is quite so intense and bleak. But while neither Jake nor Vince present as particularly sympathetic characters, it’s credit to both Law and Bateman that the resolution of their journeys is so emotional.

Flashbacks into the brothers’ childhood allow us to see the trauma that informed their early years (courtesy of an abusive father), while the volatility that exists between them (and which frequently erupts) is also offset by a deep love and loyalty: they may be complicit in each other’s messes but they never tire of trying to bail each other out.

Bateman, looking far more scuzzy and down on his luck than usual, reigns in some of his more trademark sardonic delivery and, at times, wreaks of desperation (he belatedly describes himself as a cancer)… his inability to make a good decision certainly testing everyone’s patience, yet somehow in keeping with his character. It’s a more desperate type of performance than, say, his Ozark character but it somehow works, so that his ultimate fate leaves you floored.

Law, meanwhile, trades on some of his past charisma, while adding extra edge as the stakes continue to rise beyond his control. Two belated breakdown scenes, post restaurant robbery, showcase some of the actor’s very best work and feel raw, honest and totally heartfelt (particularly a climactic exchange between him and Kotsur, in which the two acknowledge each other’s grief).

The two actors also work well together, either when bickering (sometimes comically) or throwing hurtful insults. But you never don’t believe the strong bond that exists between them, so that some of the more intimate, heart on sleeve moments between them also resonate.

The supporting cast is widely excellent too, creating a rich ensemble that adds emotional depth and moral and ethical complexity.

In this regard, the show is able to tackle wider societal issues, including #MeToo, abuse of privilege and corruption, addiction and trauma, greed and the need to continue climbing the social and business ladder even when doing so comes at great risk and cost.

The emotional fallout from all of this is given room to breathe, which is no mean feat given the breathless energy of most episodes, and which further invite comparisons with other series such as The Bear.

The direction is first rate to, on the way that each of the show’s six filmmakers lend their segments their own identity while honouring the needs of the story and its characters: Bateman is among those directors, as is his Ozark co-star Laura Linney, while Justin Kurzel (who previously worked with Law on the excellent The Order) also brings his unflinching style and capacity for emotional depth to the final two episodes.

Hence, while Black Rabbit might be too much for some, and too bleak for others (with characters who are difficult to like and certainly deserve their reckonings), it’s a show that has plenty to say about the complexity of life (and its unfairness), while still offering glimmers of hope.

It’s pulse pounding, intelligent, intense and extremely powerful. And undoubtedly among 2025’s best shows.

See also: Alien: Earth, Plur1bus, The Bear, Task, Mare of Easttown, Andor