So much of “Black Rabbit” is just a little bit off. It’s almost there, but it’s not quite right. The performances aren’t quite convincing. The setting is not rendered clearly enough. The plot is slightly miscalibrated. Nothing on its own is enough to make the show unwatchable, but it all adds up to something that isn’t as good as it should be for the genre it’s working in and the level of budget and talent involved.
The limited series is a New York City crime thriller starring Jude Law and Jason Bateman as dysfunctional brothers Jake (Law) and Vince Friedken (Bateman). They used to be partners in a Lower Manhattan lounge and restaurant called the Black Rabbit — named after their hipster-era indie rock band the Black Rabbits — but Vince’s addictions and instability led to him getting the boot. In the years since, Jake has led the restaurant to success, and is on the verge of starting a new place that will bring him to the pinnacle of the New York restaurant world — if he can get the money together, that is. Vince, meanwhile, is in big trouble, and comes back east looking for his brother to bail him out. He needs to pay off gambling debts to some violent gangsters led by Joe Mancuso (Troy Kotsur) and the clock is ticking. Jake knows his brother is bad news, but he can’t say no to helping him, and as Vince comes back into Jake’s business and life, their toxic bond threatens to destroy them both.
“Black Rabbit” draws heavily from fraternal NYC crime classics old (“Mean Streets”) and new (“Good Time”), and it’s at its best when it’s a character study of sibling codependency. Vince is addicted to drugs, alcohol and gambling, and Jake is addicted to Vince. The way Jake is willing to risk losing it all in order to enable his brother is totally believable and authentic. Unfortunately, very little else is — including Law’s Brooklyn accent.
The biggest problem is Bateman, who is co-lead actor, executive producer and director of the first two episodes. Bateman, one of Hollywood’s most Hollywood men, is not the right choice to play a lowlife from Coney Island who’s tough enough to be unfazed by getting his finger cut off by thugs. His snippy persona worked well on his prior Netflix crime thriller “Ozark,” because Marty Byrde wasn’t a physically tough guy. Bateman was very convincing as a fastidious accountant who gradually learns to get his hands dirty. Here, he’s unpersuasive. He’s doing the same sarcastic, tightly wound thing he always does in the context of a character whose charisma should come from being fun and reckless. It’s a one-note performance that we’ve seen Bateman do variations on for decades. Vince even calls people “buddy,” which is something many Bateman characters do.
As a director, Bateman isn’t detail-oriented. He favors big and broad over subtle. That was fine for the pure pulp of “Ozark,” but “Black Rabbit” is set in a highly specific milieu that Bateman and creators Zach Baylin and Kate Susman don’t have a good handle on. The show tries to tap into the scuzzy downtown energy of the early 2000s post-punk revival via needle drops from the Walkmen and Interpol and a cameo from Strokes guitarist Albert Hammond Jr., but it’s set in the present in the high-end nightlife and restaurant world — Jake is trying to open a restaurant in the former space of the Four Seasons, a Midtown spot synonymous with money and sophistication — and neither of these worlds have anything to do with the working-class outer borough world the brothers came from and still have ties to. These signifiers all read as “gritty New York City,” but they’re actually quite disparate, and Bateman & co. don’t even seem to realize they’re not integrating them in a coherent way. “Black Rabbit” flexes impressive New York filming locations — the bowels of the Russian & Turkish Baths, Times Square at dawn, the lobby of Bellevue Hospital, etc. — and this access to top-tier locations gives it a visual credibility the storytelling doesn’t earn.
There’s a lot of money on the screen, though, and the show undeniably looks great. The aesthetic borrows so liberally from the Safdie brothers’ New York thrillers “Good Time” and “Uncut Gems” that it’s practically an homage, with film grain and long lenses that shoot the action from so far away it’s like you’re watching through a telescope. The shots may be borrowed, but they’re attention-grabbing and technically formidable. The sound design is also executed at a high level — whatever they did to be able to shoot on a rooftop next to the FDR Drive without getting overwhelmed by traffic noise, it’s really slick.
While it looks like a Safdie brothers movie, it feels like “Ozark.” It even has the same opening credits format, showing items that will come into play in the episode. Like that Emmy-winning but not-quite-as-prestige thriller, the plot is relentlessly tense, with many different characters and subplots thrown into the mix. There’s everything from a Me Too thread involving a high-paying regular preying on the staff — a problem Jake delegates to chef Roxie (Amaka Okafor) to deal with, which leads to unintended consequences — to one of Vince’s creditors insinuating himself into the life of Vince’s daughter Gen (Odessa Young). There’s always something happening, but it doesn’t always work. Everything is pitched at the same level of intensity, even if it’s obviously not as important or ends up not mattering. The runtimes are bloated, and some long scenes may have you eyeing the fast forward button. The story doesn’t really start until the end of the second episode. It could have used tightening up.
The good news is that the show gets better as it goes on. The last two episodes are directed by Justin Kurzel, the rising filmmaker behind terrific projects like crime film “The Order” and WWII limited series “The Narrow Road to the Deep North.” Having previously worked with Law on “The Order,” Kurzel knows how to get the best out of the actor. Kurzel dials in his camera on Law’s face as the story reaches its emotional crescendo and Jake’s pain comes pouring out. He’s an actor’s director who also composes beautiful images, like a moody, Michael Mann-ish shot of Law lit by the flashing lights of a police car.
“Black Rabbit” isn’t bad, exactly, but it’s never as good as it could or should be. There’s a mismatch between how seriously it presents itself, with its visual flair and familial themes, and its imprecision in plot and setting. It’s a tourist in the Safdies’ New York; it looks the part and knows the spots but doesn’t have the city in its blood.
“Black Rabbit” premieres Thursday, Sept. 18, on Netflix.