The Penguin: Season 1 - Review

Rating: 5 out of 5

THE superhero genre is seldom better (in my opinion) than when it transcends its own boundaries. The best example of this remains Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy, which masterfully combined recognised comic book arcs and traits with a reach that extended into the crime cinema of filmmakers such as Michael Mann (Heat) and Francis Ford Coppola (The Godfather).

Todd Phillips' Joker movies also draw from the classic 70s cinema of Martin Scorsese (Taxi Driver, The King of Comedy), while also walking the line between fanboy nodding and searing social commentary (albeit in more polarising fashion).

With The Batman, the latest cinematic reinvention of the Dark Knight story, Matt Reeves toyed with a serial killer genre befitting the work of David (Se7en) Fincher, while cleverly drawing from some popular comic book inspirations, most notably Frank Miller's Batman: Year One. In doing so, it also took a long, hard look at the notion of vigilantism, the cost of violence on those who dispense it and political corruption and on creating social division and decay.

And so The Batman's spin-off series, The Penguin, derives a lot of its success from continuing to pull at those threads, while also drawing from the likes of The Godfather and The Sopranos, as well as mining comic book gold in the form of Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale's Batman: The Long Halloween and Batman: One Day - The Penguin by John Ridley and Giuseppe Camuncoli.

The result is a frequently electrifying piece of television, populated by terrific characters, that twists and turns its way towards a truly powerful, emotionally devastating yet visually exhilarating conclusion.

Showrunner and creator Lauren LeFranc deserves maximum credit for the way in which she takes some iconic DC characters and grounds them in a world that often feels uncomfortably and perceptively real, holding a mirror up to corruption and social status and the devastating effects of abuse, prejudice and division.

In doing so, she also gets to examine the emotional consequences of all of this, posing some biting questions along the way.

As its name suggests, the show is principally focused on The Penguin of the title - Colin Farrell's Oz Cobb, a wannabe crime lord, who recognises a chance to ascend the ranks and claim power following the death of his former boss, Carmine Falcone, towards the end of The Batman. And so, he sets into play a chain of events that are designed to reward him and his mother, Francis (Deirdre O'Connell), with the rewards that he feels he deserves - ans has long since promised.

En route, he must face off against Sofia Falcone (Cristin Milioti), recently released from a 10-year stint at Arkham Asylum for a string of murders she claims she didn't commit, a rival gang boss (Clancy Brown's Salvatore Maroni) and various other politicians and potential usurpers.

He finds an unlikely ally, meanwhile, in a young, stuttering teenage boy named Victor (Rhenzy Feliz), who he initially meets trying to steal his car - but who he provides with a shot at the big time, in exchange for which he gains a fiercely loyal and tenacious co-conspirator.

The eight episodes are littered with betrayals and deceptions, which continually place Oz at odds with himself and others, while also placing his life in continual danger.

Yet while the various machinations of the plot - including how it will end and possibly feed into The Batman II - certainly keep viewers on their toes, it's the insights into the characters themselves that really elevate the series to sometimes Shakespearean heights.

There are some big themes at play: most notably, how far will a person go to realise their ambition and at what cost? How is a monster created? And how much of what a person becomes is informed by the traumas inflicted upon them in their past?

The Penguin offers few easy answers. It is dark and unrelenting in its dissection of the psychologies that make up its principal players, giving rise to a final two episodes that turn a consistently very good show into an out and out classic.

[Spoilers ahead]

Oz's journey reaches as far back as his childhood - and an exceptionally dark past involving the death of his brothers. LeFranc goes all in on exposing the cost of this on both Oz himself (and his battle to retain what little humanity remains after he makes his fateful decision) and his mentally unstable mother. The final episode confrontation between Oz and Francis, engineered by Sofia, is powerhouse stuff, infused with some startling imagery, yet unflinching in the way that it tears its characters apart.

It also sets up the devastating last act, in which Oz finally embraces the darkness that he has long been fighting, as well as the delusion - that the cost of his journey was worth it. The irony here being that Oz can never seek the approval or respect he has been seeking... and, moving forward, will also never allow himself to be vulnerable again. There is no one he will allow to get close, for fear of how exposed it may leave him.

Farrell, buried under a tonne of prosthetic make-up, still manages to imbue his character with a Shakespearean sense of tragedy, imbuing elements of Lear and Macbeth, while simultaneously evoking comparisons with the likes of The Godfather's Michael Corleone or Tony Soprano. Farrell is a mesmering presence whenever on-screen, his Penguin every bit as formidable a villain as Heath Ledger's Joker or Paul Dano's Riddler, effortlessly rising above the often exaggerated and comical flamboyance of his comic book roots (which have previously been embodied by the likes of Burgess Meredith in the original TV series or Danny DeVito in Tim Burton's Batman Returns).

And while some fans may lament this departure from comic book design, I feel the decision enables The Penguin to transcend its genre and extend its reach, thereby making a mockery of so-called comic book fatigue.

The same level of praise can be extended to the rest of The Penguin's fantastic ensemble cast, although special mention must also go to Milioti's Sofia, whose deeply troubled Sofia is another standout reason for tuning in.

Milioti is every bit as good as Farrell here, seizing every opportunity to steal scenes without chewing the scenery. Her Sofia is just as screwed up as Oz, yet perhaps with a little more tragedy. Where Oz regularly turns betrayer to those he loves, Sofia is often the one who is betrayed - by her father, her family, even Oz. The scars run deep. The trauma irrepairable.

Sofia's own rise is just as terrifying as Oz's... and just as remorseless. And yet, quite possibly, we sympathise and perhaps even root for her more. There's an underlying, subconscious hope that she might emerge as the winner in the power struggle here - which makes her fate all the more terrible.

And then there's Feliz's Victor, an inherently decent kid, held back by his own disability and driven by his own feelings of survivor's guilt in the wake of the loss of his family. He is the truest sense of innocence lost, of potential corrupted. His fate perhaps leaves the biggest scars. Feliz is also brilliant in conveying Victor's sense of despair and desperation, as well as his fierce resolve to be better than, perhaps, his circumstances could ever allow.

The Penguin therefore revels in the power of its performances - delivering flawed, nuanced characters who really leave an indelible impression. And LeFranc deserves the accolades for the way in which she has created an epic piece of television - something that is, by turns, shocking and moving in its own darkly twisted way.

That she does so by also keeping most of the fans happy is also another masterclass in how to juggle genre elements, to keep things fresh and innovative, while drawing on some essential inspirations. We were always told that The Batman himself would never appear, and yet there are so-called 'Easter eggs' throughout that enable it to fit so seamlessly into the world that Matt Reeves is creating. A last act reveal of the Bat logo, for instance, should have fans whooping with delight, as will the ways in which the show follows on from the movie, or drops in names (Selina Kyle, etc) that expose tantalising possibilities for future instalments. 

It's all done so intelligently that you won't mind the future proofing of these characters. If anything, you'll be praying you get to see more of them.