‘The Penguin’ Review

The relationship between modern television and film has borne out a constant tradition: if a character in a film is moderately interesting, they should probably get a television show. It’s a sensible decision as it doesn’t usually take away from the character’s depiction in the film, and gives fans of that character more time to appreciate the finer details of them. Whether it’s wholly necessary is another conversation. While showrunner Lauren LeFranc’s focus on Oswald “Penguin” Cobblepot (often just referred to as Oz) from Matt Reeves’ depiction of the character in The Batman is more superfluous than it could have been, it also makes the argument for why the serialized format of television still provides an opportunity that film does not. Through its web of criminals, The Penguin takes some time to differentiate itself from familiar crime drama archetypes but eventually becomes an interesting character study for several of its characters within a city of corruption.

Throughout The Penguin - an eight-episode limited series helmed by LeFranc for HBO - there’s hardly a mention of the caped crusader or any of the characters that are littered throughout Reeves’ film. This seems by design. This is its own sprawling crime saga, which follows Oz (Colin Farrell) as he attempts to capitalize on the death of Carmine Falcone and navigate the treacherous criminal underworld of Gotham City. Those first three episodes, directed by Craig Zobel (The Leftovers, The Hunt), primarily center themselves on placing all the pieces on the board for what will ultimately matter in the game of chess that Oz is playing with his enemies. While there’s a variety of gangs and gang leaders that Oz will need to brush shoulders with throughout the series, the main opposition comes from Salvatore Maroni (Clancy Brown) and Sofia Falcone (Cristin Milioti) - the latter of which is the daughter of Carmine, and was recently released from Arkham Asylum where she served time for the murder of seven women.

The absence of Bruce Wayne and the brief references to the events that transpired in The Batman only accentuate the vastness of Gotham’s network of criminals. But no one wears a silly suit or masquerades as a villain. Instead, they all accept the baseline of their characters: they are all villains. The Penguin becomes more about how monsters justify their actions, and how the moral gray area still exists within corrupt people - it’s just a shade darker for them. Through the inclusion of Sofia Falcone, who remembers Oz as the loyal henchman he was, the show turns in one of the more memorable depictions of the character. Referred to as The Hangman for her crimes, she’s a character born into a powerful and corrupt family who comes home to pick up the pieces while reflecting on how her past has defined who she will become. While most will tune into The Penguin for Farrell and his continued depiction of the titular character, it’s Milioti’s performance and the characterization of Sofia that gives the show the foundation it needs to justify its existence. She is a monster, much like Oz, but how she differs is what makes the show interesting.

It also doesn’t help that Oz is simply not a likeable person, whereas Sofia is a character meant to make us uncertain of whether she is pure evil or merely a victim of circumstance. Oz is manipulative and sly, forcing Farrell to attempt to heighten the sense of empathy that the writing rarely is able to conjure up. Oz’s inner circle is small. His brothers have been dead since they were children, leaving him to take care of his ailing mother, Francis (Deirdre O’Connell). He frequently meets with a sex worker, Eve (Carmen Ejogo). It isn’t until he catches Victor (Rhenzy Feliz) - a kid from his neighborhood trying to steal the rims from Oz’s car - that his circle of trusted people widens with a new protege eager to earn forgiveness and a name for himself. All of these characters almost solely exist to further the idea that Oz may very well be a nice person deep, deep down. This is ultimately an uphill battle to convince audiences, but Farrell plays it up nicely enough that it generally works, so long as you accept that he’s still a villain.

There’s still a significance given to almost every player in The Penguin, but it’s quickly understood that the show is depicting hopeless and desperate people trying to make a better place for themselves as opposed to others. It’s also a fairly generic approach for a crime drama. There’s no shaking HBO’s The Wire and The Sopranos when watching The Penguin, or even the films of Martin Scorsese. The basic elements are all familiar trappings for the genre. It’s the shades of gray that differ between Sofia and Oz that formulate something far more engaging than turf wars and drug deals. At the end of the day, The Penguin is aiming to be a complex character study set within a familiar universe - and while the characters may not be as flashy as a Poison Ivy or Bane, the show generally benefits from it because it tries to strike at something relatable while expanding the grounded setting from Reeves’ vision of Gotham.

Familiar crime drama trappings are also what tend to hold back The Penguin until it reaches its third episode. For the first two episodes, it feels familiar and underwhelming despite punctuated moments of violence and an attempt to emotionally connect the audience with its central character. Victor is in a lot of ways that audience surrogate, though that downplays the character work that is done with that arc. It’s in the third episode though where the series starts digging into the psyche of its characters and starts taking the broad sketches of archetypes and filling in between the lines. Supporting character or not, they’re almost all treated with care and attention to how their relationship to Oz or Sofia feeds into the greater themes of class divides, wealth, trauma, and how it’s all an open wound that festers until it’s too far gone to save.

Of course, it’s also a show that exists within another universe and as a result it does have to adhere to certain aesthetic qualities. The score, done by Mick Giacchino, does a serviceable enough job emulating the moody undertones of Gotham City that Mick’s father, Michael Giacchino, composed for The Batman. It’s not as impressive nor very noticeable at times, but when it does present itself, it’s suitably understated. That seems to be the mantra for the cinematography as well. Grieg Fraser’s photography in The Batman provided some gorgeous and iconic shots that served the film’s operatic sensibilities. What may result from The Penguin taking place more in the daytime than its film counterpart, Darren Tiernan’s cinematography is far less interesting or memorable. There’s an attention to detail in the production design and, of course, in the makeup and prosthetics department, but The Penguin’s considerations for aesthetics is a reminder of television’s priorities in storytelling over technical departments. While not poor in its execution, the cinematography and score are often unworthy of mentioning.

Despite it sometimes feeling like it’s hitting the bare minimum to emulate The Batman and crime dramas as a whole, there is a surprising amount of depth to some of The Penguin’s characterwork. This is especially true when looking outside of Oz and surveying the people he associates with. Of course, for a show titled after him, it is a bit disappointing that the Penguin himself is far less interesting than some of the characters around him, most notable of which is Sofia Falcone, who is a strong addition to the narrative and is an excellent showcase for Cristin Milioti. Wisely containing itself within the limited series format, The Penguin may not differentiate itself too much from other crime dramas, but once it hits its stride, it becomes a somewhat fascinating web of characters that enhance Reeves’ The Batman.

The Penguin will premiere on Thursday, September 19th, at 9:00 PM ET/PT on HBO and will be available to stream on Max.