‘The Penguin’ Review: A Ferocious Colin Farrell Carries HBO’s Trumpian Revenge Tragedy
French philosopher Simone Weil once wrote, “Imaginary evil is romantic and varied; real evil is gloomy, monotonous, barren, boring.” The quote, from her posthumous collection of passages “Gravity and Grace,” reflects the separation between stories and reality; how the former can magnify villainy while sourcing it and lending it coherence (to say nothing of providing entertainment), whereas the cold, constant nature of existence does the opposite: It hides evil in dull routines, or cloaks it in actions that aren’t easily explained. The phrase “the banality of evil” may come to mind, if you’ve seen “The Zone of Interest” (or simply tracked last year’s Oscar race).
“The Penguin” — a spinoff to Matt Reeves’ 2022 hit “The Batman,” which first introduced Colin Farrell’s staggering, scarred-up mobster, Oz Cobb — tries, as many modern-era antihero dramas do, to thread the needle between the imaginary and the real. Already inspired by both a comic-book superhero (originally) and a gritty detective noir (in the recent film), HBO’s eight-episode limited series is both romantic and gloomy, varied and barren. It’s entertainment, sure, but the kind of entertainment that’s determined to speak to the present; to say something real, even if it comes from the gnarled lips of a character once known for driving a giant rubber ducky.
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Here, reality trumps imagination. Or should I say, “Trumps?” More than anything, “The Penguin” is hampered by its suspense-killing placement — a sequel to the movie and a prequel to the next movie — but for all of its requisite devotion to character development, its central figure doesn’t change. That’s basically the point — some villains are so far gone, there needs to be a limit to our empathy and understanding — but it doesn’t help the minor arc of an eight-hour show bridging a pair of two-hour movies feel any less gratuitous. For those who haven’t recognized the callous opportunism inherent to Donald Trump and his cronies, perhaps The Penguin’s putrid embodiment of those traits will nudge them closer to seeing one hideous monster in the other. For the rest of us, it’s an artful reminder to accept the evil we cannot change, while rejecting its steady creep toward power.
Sound fun? It’s not! But A) it’s not aiming for “fun,” and B) its stray bits of dark humor may make you smile in spite of yourself. Oz (Farrell), for instance, loves pickles and hates cilantro. He listens to Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5” after a long day of work. When a fellow gangster mentions there might be a coup brewing, Oz quips, “A ‘coup’? What are you reading books or something?” That all this is conveyed by Farrell’s guttural growl and takes place as he’s trying to start a mob war between Gotham’s ruling crime families only helps accentuate each comic snippet. When people are dying by the ice float while the Penguin is griping over tacos that “taste like soap,” his random little remarks carry extra punch.
They also, along with their scarcity, keep the focus on the bigger picture. By and large, “The Penguin” is about one simple thing: Oz trying to climb the ladder to the top of Gotham’s criminal underworld. Long dismissed as a lackey or a laughingstock (thanks to his looks and his limp), the former driver turned factory manager spots an opportunity where others only see catastrophe. The Riddler’s bombings (from the climax of “The Batman”) flooded the city’s poorest neighborhoods, which led to a spike in rioting and general lawlessness. Paired with the death of Carmine Falcone (John Turturro), even the local news notices a “power vacuum” in Gotham’s gangland, and Oz thinks he can fill it.
Standing in his way — no, it’s not Batman, there is no Batman, not yet — are the remaining members of the Falcone family and their longtime rival, Salvatore Maroni (Clancy Brown), both of whom control the city’s drug trade. The rudderless Falcones don’t know who to turn to, which makes it a tad easier for Oz to jam them up — that is, until Sofia Falcone (Cristin Milioti) slinks onscreen. A former resident of Arkham Asylum, little is initially mentioned about how Carmine’s only daughter ended up in the highest of high-security prisons, but her zero-fucks social decorum (she enthusiastically eats with her hands) and unblinking wide-eyed gaze fuel plenty of ghastly ideas.
To say much more about Sofia would risk spoiling one of “The Penguin’s” better plots, but Milioti is excellent, walking a fine line between Oz’s mirror and his foil without ever stepping foot outside the Sofia we come to understand in the end. As Oz hustles here and there, waddling between lower-level crime bosses he pushes around like obnoxious pawns, Sofia tries to stay focused. She wants vengeance, she wants power, but even more, she wants to protect what she has left — her family, her sanity, her freedom. Oz wants those things, too — his mother, Francis (Deirdre O’Connell), is of particular importance to him — but the best aspect of “The Penguin” is how it identifies the similarities that should tie its two leads together, only to slowly, agonizingly, distinguish their pivotal differences.
Which brings us back to the bird-man himself. For as much time as director Craig Zobel and cinematographer Darran Tiernan spend framing every pockmark, false tooth, and jagged angle of Farrell’s uglified face — as if daring the audience to doubt the veracity of his impressive prosthetics — their long look at Oz doesn’t reveal anything more than meets the eye. Nor should it. All that time in his vile proximity serves as a challenge to recognize what’s right in front of you; not an antihero, not a misunderstood victim, not a bully who just needs a little parental guidance to stop acting out. Oz, to be frank, is a piece of shit. “The Penguin” prefers to use the term “monster,” but his slicked-back hair, white suit, and fancy car elevate Oz to the Dangerous Night crew.
As plain as the crooked nose on his face, the depravity is the point. Similarly, so is Oz’s lunk-headed approach to politics. Unlike past versions of the character, this Penguin is not a criminal mastermind. He’s not plotting a chess match to be played out as he desires so much as he’s smashing the board in a fit of rage and then pretending he won the game. How Oz convinces others to go along with his schemes or save his skin becomes a recurring bit that would be impossible to believe if there wasn’t a real-world parallel proving just how plausible people’s heinous naivete has become. (And yet, for as repulsive as they’ve dressed Farrell to be, he’s still infinitely better looking than that wispy wide-load of burnt-orange buffoonery.)
A superhero spinoff series serving as a Trumpian allegory at all is worth appreciating, as is Farrell burying his disarming charms behind 50 pounds of latex without concealing his considerable talents. There’s a ferocity to Oz that radiates so brightly it could easily consume him, but it’s the little moments of casual small talk that prove the most frightening. Oz’s circuitous rise to power comes from leveraging his facial deformity and noticeable limp to convince each aspiring blue-collar crook he’s one of them; one of the downtrodden, one of the overlooked, one of the regular folk who’s never been given the chance to get ahead. So long as he can draw on their identity to curry loyalty, it doesn’t matter that he gives none in return. He talks like one of us (kind of), he walks like one of us (almost), and yet he’s so far removed from humanity, it’s no wonder Oz is most incensed whenever anyone calls him Penguin — they’re not just making fun, they’re calling out his beastly nature.
Viewers who immediately know better than to believe anything Oz says may grow wearier, faster than those who go in looking for DC Comics easter eggs and Batman universe-building. There’s a little of that, too, but “The Penguin” isn’t just another super-villain origin story, much like “The Batman” wasn’t just another superhero movie. (Meaning, it’s both and neither at once.) But even if it largely succeeds on its own terms, “The Penguin” could’ve benefited from a little more romance and variation, rather than a relentless and gloomy dose of reality.
Grade: B-
“The Penguin” premieres Thursday, September 19 at 9 p.m. ET on HBO. New episodes will be released weekly on Sundays at 9 p.m. ET through the finale on November 10.
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