Lanterns (HBO Max) - Review

Rating: 5 out of 5

THE biggest challenge facing Damon Lindelof and co-creators Tom King and Chris Mundy when it came to making Lanterns was ensuring that its primary characters mattered.

At a time of potential superhero fatigue, and with a central character still desperate to distance itself from the long lamented Ryan Reynolds disaster, there had to be a reason for viewers to want to tune in across eight episodes (released weekly).

Hence, the approach to adopt a more grounded feel, drawing on the intelligent approach of shows like Lindelof’s own Watchmen and even True Detective, which offered a central mystery to solve rather than a countdown to impending disaster.

Or, as King told The Hollywood Reporter: “One of our sticking points from day one was to avoid clichés like they’re the plague. They make it boring and give you that superhero exhaustion we’ve seen a thousand think pieces about. So, it’s not what you expect, and that’s entirely what this show has been.”

There was also a conscious decision to make it more emotional than action heavy.

Hence, we have a split narrative that takes in two mysteries, a mis-matched partnership, and several origins stories.

Kyle Chandler plays Earth’s current Green Lantern, Hal Jordan (widely considered to be the fan favourite incarnation), who is tasked with training Aaron Pierre’s John Stewart (making his live action debut, having been one of DC’s first African American superheroes, following his debut in 1971) as a potential successor.

The timelines are mostly split between 2016, where Stewart’s training coincides with an investigation into the presence of a potential shape shifting alien manhunter, and 2026 and the surprise murder of Hal.

That last plot point [revealed at the end of the first episode] was deeply divisive among fans given Hal’s standing among them, but it delivered the show the emotional edge it was seeking.

For while the manhunter did pose a form of existential threat befitting the attentions of the Green Lantern Corps, culminating in a major confrontation [set in 2016], the payoff for this series didn’t so much lie in the pyrotechnics that accompanied it (although the action scenes were cool) but the aftermath of the battle and how it impacted the lives of those who survived.

As Lindelof explained following the finale: “If we had to make a two-hour Lanterns movie, you would have to have a bombastic third-act action set piece — and then two or three minutes of coda. We got to do that [coda] over the course of [the last] three episodes.”

And it’s here that Lanterns really delivers and transcends its genre in many ways, while still exploring the themes of fear and willpower inherent throughout the comics, as well as those of friendship, loyalty, trust and grief.

Indeed, it has become something of a recent superhero genre trope that grief is something that is regularly explored, alongside issues connected to mental health, such as the trauma inherent in each of the Thunderbolts* characters, and certainly in Peter Parker throughout Spider-Man: Brand New Day. Not to mention the intelligent and sensitive breakdown of grief that WandaVision put forward.

With Lanterns, Lindelof and partners get to take an even deeper dive, so that the show almost rewards repeat viewings, to see how scenes foreshadow certain events, and therefore land differently and even more emotionally.

It’s where the great writing really comes into play.

One of my standout moments from the series, in fact, is a spoken eulogy for Hal, written by Hal himself, that begins jokey but lands a hefty emotional blow.

“That said, I can’t believe I’m actually dead. I kind of wrote this as a joke, but if you’re reading it, I guess the joke’s on me. I’m truly sorry to any of you that I hurt, I don’t have a good excuse.

“Maybe it was just easier to fly than it was to stay on the ground. I hope I mattered!”

That last part carries so much weight. It’s about responsibility. It’s about legacy. It’s both grand and personal - addressing the child in all of us that never wants to grow up or the father/mother who just wants to be remembered for the right reasons [as guiding lights and moral compasses] by their children. For genre fans, it also keeps one eye on the job required from Lanterns; namely, the protection of the galaxy.

But taken at its most stripped down and personal, it's poignant and it resonates.

Yet throughout the show’s coda there is an emotional depth that impresses, with the finale and its revelations and exchanges loaded with sorrow, compassion and love.

Without wanting to give too much away, given that its secrets were so well hidden throughout, the reveal of Hal’s killer was a genuine surprise. But once the shock had dissipated and the reasons behind it became clear, there was so much complexity and humanity at play - not least in the reasons behind it (that of protection).

It also brought to a conclusion Stewart’s journey of choosing to become a Lantern on his terms - rather than those governed by his parents or the corps.

Another of the show’s strengths was the way in which it provided an origin story for Stewart, showing how his parents pretty much drilled him in the art of overcoming fear (another great episode was devoted almost exclusively to this) and virtually depriving him of his childhood.

Hence, while it instilled a sense of authority and decency in him, it came at a personal cost. And yet Stewart remained very much his own man. So, his decision to eventually wear the ring was never going to be taken lightly. And this was was beautifully realised.

But so too was his central relationship with Hal Jordan: part confrontational, part jokey but increasingly echoing a father-son dynamic.

When Hal asks Stewart what his final words were before dying, Stewart reveals them to be “I love you”, poignantly delivered, only for Jordan to repeat the words to Stewart in a final show of paternal affection and pride. The wink he then gives before fading from sight for a final time is priceless.

The chemistry between Chandler and Pierre is another of the show’s great strengths. They were superb together. Whether bantering and winding each other up, or belatedly supporting each other and developing a mutual respect, you loved being around them.

It offered the show another point of difference for the way in which it delivered a set of characters you were genuinely invested in and looked forward to reuniting with each week.

I’ve long been a fan of Chandler and it’s great to see him embracing and really inhabiting another lead role (one that is filled with outward charisma, yet inner pain), while Pierre (with his piecing eyes and imposing physique) is an electric presence (building on the equally terrific work he did in Rebel Ridge). His Stewart exudes decency in a world that is often devoid of it.

Credit, too, must also go to Kelly Macdonald, bringing trademark emotional depth to Rushville’s sheriff, Kerry Cane, and to Shea Pritchard, who displays impressive range as her son (especially in the pivotal final episode).

But the whole ensemble worked, whether hinting at the wider DCU via Nathan Fillion’s comically egotistical Guy Gardner (another Lantern) or in appearances from Laura Linney, as a guardian, and Ulrich Thomsen, as Sinestro (to name but a few).

Together, they ensured Lanterns was, by turns, funny, involving, complex and cool. And that, above all else, it mattered.