The notion of a Batman show without the Batman is nothing new—we’re decades now into a bevy of largely unsuccessful attempts at fleshing out a Gotham City largely unfettered by the Caped Crusader’s nocturnal adventures. “Birds of Prey,” “Gotham Knights,” hell “Pennyworth: The Origin of Batman’s Butler” all left withering impressions in the overarching public’s mind. And, indeed, if there’s a close parallel to any of those shows in HBO’s newest series, “The Penguin,” it’s FOX’s increasingly convoluted “Gotham,” which spent more time in 100 episodes on the criminal machinations of the city’s underworld than anything else. But Lauren LeFranc’s take on the Gentleman of Crime soars, or rather waddles, past its competitors in eight short episodes, crafting a gangland epic from its comic-book origins that, if it doesn’t surpass, at least matches the sensibilities of its inspirations.
Spun off from Matt Reeves’ grimy, “Se7en”-inspired take on “The Batman,” “The Penguin” picks up in the immediate aftermath of the 2022 film, after Paul Dano’s Riddler blew up the sea wall protecting Gotham City and flooded large swaths of the poorer neighborhoods. Smelling an opportunity, craven middle-level mobster Oswald “Oz” Cobb (Colin Farrell, still unrecognizable underneath grimy, fat-suit prosthetics, gold teeth, and wobbly gait) sees a way to the top amid all the chaos: pitting the crippled Falcone (boss Carmine [Mark Strong in flashbacks, taking over for John Turturro] was offed in “The Batman”) and Maroni (boss Salvatore [Clancy Brown] is locked up at Blackgate Penitentiary) against each other.
But Oz’s greatest strengths—his gift of gab, his resourcefulness, his chameleonic ability to be everything to everyone—go alongside his weaknesses, which include a Joe-Pesci-in-“GoodFellas” chip on his shoulder that eggs him to violence. In the opening minutes, that impulsivity and insecurity get him in trouble, a tossed-off insult by Falcone heir Alberto (Michael Zegen) spurring Oz to put some bullets in maybe the most bulletproof person in Gotham. Farrell sneers in vindication under those prosthetics, and then a pall falls over his face. “Aw, fuu-.” Title card.
That push and pull between Oz’s (or The Penguin’s, if you really wanna piss him off) ambitions and insecurities fuel all eight episodes of the series, which somehow manages to make this low-level crime epic feel complete and fulfilling in spite of the absence of the Caped Crusader. Batman is only briefly mentioned in a news report, and then never referred to again; you’d think he’d turn his eye towards the struggling turf war escalating in Gotham’s version of Queens (Crown Point), but maybe he has bigger fish to fry. Good riddance, I say: It lets Farrell and co. breathe a bit, letting LeFranc slow-build a rapidly escalating crime drama to fever pitch.
Instead, Cobb’s bat in the belfry takes the form of Alberto’s prodigal sister, Sofia Falcone (Cristin Milioti), recently returned from a stint at Arkham after being put there as the alleged serial killer known as “The Hangman.” Whether or not the stories are true are of little concern: Arkham has either changed Sofia or brought out what’s already in her, and her plans as a newly-out psychopath are likely to complicate Oz’s rise to power. Milioti plays Sofia with a dangerous twinkle in her eye, but blissfully stops short of any Harley Quinn-esque theatrics (save for the occasional plunging neckline or ostentatious outfit). Instead, she’s a shark, deeply focused where Oz flaps his flippers from one impulse to the next. At times, she threatens to steal the show right out from under Farrell, she’s that good.
But Farrell holds his own, especially as he grows his version of Cobb into something beyond the Robert De Niro-James Gandolfini stylistic origins of the character. Yeah, there’s something of Scorsese or “The Sopranos” to the way Cobb throws his literal weight around, and the Noo Joyzy accent lends him just enough of a comical edge to combat the menace. Much like Tony Soprano, he also has a complicated relationship with his mother (Dierdre O’Connell), who sees all his deadly potential, for better or worse, and pushes him to realize it. (“You a weak little pussy boy?” she coos at him, in one of her signature pep talks.)
The mama’s-boy element extends to Cobb’s whole ethos, which informs his trajectory in fascinating ways. Farrell plays him like a dangerous man who wants nothing more than to be loved and admired, and will kill anyone who doesn’t. He’ll even take a young thief (Rhenzy Feliz’s stuttering Victor) under his wing at the right moment of pity, and show him the life that was denied him from their shared upbringing in Gotham’s slums. He likes to think of himself as a nice guy, and seems aggrieved when he feels forced to kill someone who slights him. It’s that unpredictability Farrell calibrates so well: desperate eyes behind the prosthetics, curled lips revealing those gold chompers. Murdering an enemy seems like an inconvenience every time he does it, but he forces himself to move forward. He has no choice. It’s who he is.
That chaotic momentum ushers us nicely through “The Penguin,” even as the eight-episode format occasionally slows down in the middle act. Flashbacks give us tragic insight into Sofia and Oz’s twinned tragedies, borne of neglectful parent figures and the white-hot forge of their circumstances; they’re welcome, but sometimes put the pause button on the momentum of the present-day story. The cinematography affects the gestures of Greig Fraser’s superlative work on “The Batman” — ambered sunsets, pitch-black nights — but innately feels cheaper by comparison. And the score by Mick Giacchino brings welcome harsh notes to the ’70s-inflected aesthetics of the show, but lacks the iconic themes father Michael brought to Reeves’ film.
But throughout, “The Penguin” offers an intriguing push and pull between the grotesque and the grounded, a street-level crime drama nonetheless full of cartoonish mob stereotypes and over-the-top characters with elaborate axes to grind. Those impulses circle around the twin orbits of Oz and Sofia, two peas in a pod who nonetheless want to kill each other. Both make frustrated grasps at the American Dream, fighting society and themselves (and, eventually, each other) to get ahead. It’s a bold story to set amid the backdrop of Gotham City, and “The Penguin” proves you don’t need a cape and cowl to tell it.
Full season screened for review. Episodes air weekly on HBO.
