Smoke gets off to an insufferable start. Freighted with procedural clichés, the Apple TV+ thriller follows a mismatched law-enforcement duo tracking two prolific arsonists. Dave Gudsen (Taron Egerton) is an arson investigator with a standoffish stepson and literary ambitions. His new partner: police detective Michelle Calderone (Jurnee Smollett), an ex-Marine who’s sleeping with a superior. Initial tension gives way to drunken bonding. Pretentious stylistic choices exacerbate the lazy setup. Episodes open with dictionary definitions of thematically appropriate words like transmogrification and, for some reason, fury on title cards. There are arty shots of billowing infernos. A mournful Thom Yorke song soundtracks the credits. In voiceover, Dave expounds, hackily, on the annihilating power of fire.
After two interminable episodes, a bombshell resets the show, eliminating some of its worst excesses and contextualizing others. Smoke becomes watchable. Yet in its swerve away from one egregious set of tropes, it embraces others that are, if less irritating, almost as tired. An emerging critique of aggrieved white machismo comes off, mostly, as a shallow topical hook.
Like so many disappointing Apple TV+ projects, from Nicole Kidman’s Roar to Billy Crystal’s Before, the series substitutes marquee names for quality control. Loosely based on the true crime podcast Firebug, it was developed by one of Hollywood’s favorite authors, Dennis Lehane (Shutter Island, Mystic River), who was also on the writing staff of The Wire and helmed Apple’s well-received 2022 miniseries Black Bird. The cast includes John Leguizamo, Greg Kinnear, and Anna Chlumsky. Ntare Guma Mbaho Mwine, a standout in The Chi and Treme, brings a fragile authenticity to the tricky but pivotal role of a maladjusted fast-food worker.
But the actors are poorly served by the material. Kinnear is miscast as the detectives’ folksy, complacent boss. Leguizamo’s character is too broadly sleazy, Chlumsky’s too bland. At the story’s forefront, Michelle is a dated Strong Female Character with a maudlin history of trauma. Egerton, an executive producer, has taken on a role so elastic, and so clearly shaped by the need for nine episodes’ worth of cliffhangers, it barely holds together.
Populated by unhinged men and masochistic women, and punctuated by fiery, increasingly histrionic set pieces, Smoke fails to reconcile its mood of noirish nihilism with its efforts at social commentary. Despite feinting towards subversion, Lehane has produced a typical—overlong, caricature-laden, easy to watch but also to forget—streaming crime show.