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The Matt Reeves-directed iteration of the caped crusader on film, titled “The Batman” (2022), had been successful enough critically and commercially (post-COVID) that it blew open the doors of that corner of the DC Studios catalog. As is wont with Hollywood, universes are the rage, and with DC now under the stewardship of director James Gunn and producer Peter Safran, the plan had been to create a new DC Universe of movies from scratch. The success of “The Batman,” however, allowed for Reeves’ “The Batman Epic Crime Saga” to blossom with vigor as a separate corner.
Hints of the shared universe would be first witnessed by the presence of a deleted scene of Batman (Robert Pattinson) interrogating this universe’s version of the Joker (Barry Keoghan), while Paul Dano, who essayed the role of the primary antagonist, The Riddler, in that film, would create an origin story in a comic book miniseries in line with the canon of the film, titled “The Riddler: Year One.”.
But “The Penguin” is the first instance where a true blue continuation of the movie would begin. Or at least, the show would take the strands from the ending of that film and use that to sew a tapestry about the underbelly of Gotham City through the fan-favorite character of The Penguin (Colin Farrell reprising his role from the movie). The show would be developed and run by Lauren LeFranc, with Matt Reeves serving as executive producers.
It’s not the first instance of a franchise exploring its antagonists in separate standalone stories. The entire Sony-led Marvel movies follow this simple pattern, to rather diminishing results. And while the comparison between The Sopranos and The Penguin is warranted, though not entirely accurate, a deepening exploration of Oz Cobb (Colin Farrell) through eight hours, without resorting to make the character an anti-hero, yields major dividends.
Because “The Penguin” is at the end of the day the story of Oz Cobb navigating and maneuvering his way through the different factions of the underworld of Gotham, all to satisfy his growing lust of power as well as an unchecked ambition that is governed by an oedipal-esque devotion to his mother. The Sopranos comparison is again warranted, but while Tony Soprano’s journey is about a mob boss struggling to maintain the balance between his family and the mob while at the top of the food chain, The Penguin is about a gangster lower at the totem pole scrappily fighting to the top, chipping away at his soul as well as the souls of everyone associated with him.
While Colin Farrell’s performance deftly shuttles between soulful, empathetic, funny, and yet revolting in its hint of psychopathy, it’s the central relationships he has with Victor Aguilar (Rhenzy Feliz) and his mother, Diedre O’Connell, that truly elevate the show. Victor’s character, taking a healthy dose of inspiration from the character of Jason Todd in the comics, is a kid from the same side of the tracks. He represents the conscience of Gotham, unmoored by the destruction and tragedy caused by the Riddler’s attack. And Aguilar’s character is one of the central lenses through which we are given a window into Oz, his humor, and his moments of pathos and rage. Feliz too is provided a role where he would have to go through a gamut of emotions, as the choices he takes as well as the city of Gotham itself pull him below the bowels of decency and chip him apart.
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But the relationship with his mother, Diedre, is where the show both homages The Sopranos as well as stands apart from it. Sure, Diedre O’Connell is very much an analogue of Livia Soprano, but both the flashbacks as well as the present-day sequences present to us a woman heavily affected by the loss of her two sons and disillusioned with the neediness of her remaining son. It’s a complex relationship that is masterfully evoked by O’Connell in both her singular moments where her character suffers from dementia and in moments of lucidity where even the over-the-top moments of anger and violence bring forth and emphasize the tragedy of the entire Cobb family. And none of it would have been possible without the masterful performances of both O’Connell and Farrell.
And truly, it’s these performances that help LeFranc’s writing, which sometimes has a tendency to go super-broad in terms of accents or in the depictions of the gangsters, have muster and weight. Cristin Milioti’s performance of Sofia Falcone is one heralding the arrival of a star. She truly is extraordinary in her depiction of a woman angry and hurt at the world and acting out, barely keeping her anger and that mild streak of insanity in check. The problem with her character is the fact that her thematic and emotional arc truly comes to a head in the fourth episode of the series, “Cent’Anni,” which also acts as an origin story for her character. But post that episode, she simply becomes a somewhat generic foil with Maroni, to Oz’s wheelin and dealin and rise to power.
Milioti is consistent, even as her depiction of insanity through her eyes, beggars disbelief at times, and the depiction of her rise to power leading to restructuring of the entire Falcone family feels slightly generic. The most haphazard section is her relationship to Doctor Julian Rush (Theo Rossi) and consequently Rush’s character. It feels as if the creators wanted to make a Doctor Strange analogue in this universe of The Batman without going too far and straining credulity in this heightened reality of the Matt Reeves universe. But the result is a character whose emotional choices don’t have any bearings in terms of the plot, and neither do they provide any meaningful wrinkles to Sofia’s character as well.
But it is in these moments, when the show depicts Oz’s machinations as well as the consequent war that follows, that the show also falters somewhat in its pacing. It never takes away from the watchability of the show or in its exploration of Gotham City, which had already been given an equally compelling sheen in “The Batman.” But it’s the balancing of some of the plots—be it Oz reconciling and regrouping after both Sofia and Maroni join forces or Vic’s subplot regarding key characters in his past—that, while important, significantly bring the momentum down for the show. The show’s efforts to maintain a consistent visual identity with the movie obviously falter because of the show not sharing the same cinematographer, as well as the show utilizing far too many special effects, which does stick out like a sore thumb.
But more importantly, the show’s willingness to stand alone from the mothership is admirable, but sometimes baffling. While the caped Crusader not appearing in the show at all is a creative choice that works in ensuring Oz’s journey doesn’t get overshadowed, the show not even referencing the presence of the character even in the news or in graffiti along the walls or even in lines of throwaway characters is baffling.
The underworld might be insular, with larger events like the explosion at Crown Point resulting in catching the Batman’s attention, but to double down on the hypothesis that the Gotham Underworld doesn’t consider The Batman even as a boogeyman, much less a legitimate threat, is a strange creative choice that unfortunately also stands out. It threatens to paint the show’s insular nature in an absurd light until the final episode, when the show actually drops its two biggest references to the movie at large, connecting it with the eventual sequel.
The biggest trick “The Penguin” executed is in justifying its existence independent of the universe it is operating in, as well as not going through the traditional corny route of making the complex anti-heroic character a traditionally good man. It’s a choice the movies might have taken, but the television campus allows for shows to craft stories about deeper character exploration, and perhaps this is why “The Penguin” succeeds irrespective of its connections to a comic book film or a comic book medium.
