Being assigned to the basement office might sound like a demotion, but new TV crime-thriller Furious joins the likes of The X-Files, Mindhunter, The Wire, and Dept Q in finding gold in this secluded spot. The location of a department says a lot about how crimes are prioritized, and it is telling that the sex-crimes floor is tucked away on the lowest level of the FBI field office.
On paper, much of the new series from creator Elizabeth Meriwether is familiar and leans toward cliché: a cat-and-mouse chase, a sprawling conspiracy, corruption, sex crimes, and a cynical veteran paired with a newbie eager to make a difference. Thankfully, there is nothing stale or derivative about Furious (streaming now on Hulu), which is one of the year’s best and most thought-provoking titles so far.
Former NYPD detective and now FBI agent Alice Black (Emmy Rossum) is ready to prove herself in her new role, only to be pulled back into the past she was trying to flee during an investigation into a killer targeting rich men in New York City. As the series title suggests, anger seeps into every corner of this case, with both Alice and the woman she is chasing, Catherine Grace (Lola Petticrew), oscillating between control and unbridled rage.
Catherine is revealed from the outset to be the woman committing these vigilante slayings; this is no whodunnit, but rather a whydunnit. It quickly becomes clear that not every victim is afforded justice for the terror they have experienced.
Part of this unflinching portrayal’s effectiveness lies in its depiction of who law enforcement deems disposable. Underage sex trafficking within ultra-wealthy circles provides the catalyst for this story, but this is more than a thinly veiled examination of figures like Jeffrey Epstein. Rather, it turns the focus back onto the vulnerable girls and young women who are treated as disposable objects when they should be safeguarded against networks of predators.
Loosely inspired by 1987 neo-noir Black Widow, Meriwether continues her run of impressive choices post-New Girl. She followed a hit network sitcom with the Emmy-winning portrayal of biotech fraudster Elizabeth Holmes in The Dropout, and then with the revelatory Dying For Sex. The overarching plotting differs greatly, but Furious continues to Meriwether’s penchant for telling stories about partnerships, adding rich texture to an all-too-familiar investigative world.
Alice has two notable team-ups in Furious: first with NYPD detective Danny Kelly (Scoot McNairy), who initially asks for Alice’s expertise regarding the crime scene that kicks off this endeavor. The second is with the jaded veteran agent in charge of the sex-crime unit, Nora Washington (Quincy Tyler Bernstine). A mix of salty and sweet interactions with Alice—Nora being the former, Danny the latter—ensures we get to see Alice’s brilliance and recklessness through old and new eyes.
In Nora, Alice doesn’t find a warm and sympathetic mentor who is impressed with the younger agent’s enthusiasm and tenacity. Instead, she is rebuked at every turn. Nora doesn’t want to take Alice under her wing. She can’t understand what is so appealing about the basement investigations that involve watching material so depraved that she has to drink to get through the day (and nights). Again, on paper, this ticks another familiar crime thriller box, but Nora’s self-awareness sidesteps any eye rolls.
Neither Rossum nor Bernstine shies away from the pricklier aspects of their characters, making this one of the most dynamic TV partnerships of the year so far. Furious is satisfying in its conclusion, and there is nothing worse than a limited series that returns just for the sake of it, but this critic would be more than happy to spend more time in the company of this duo.
Likewise, the pairing of Danny and Alice, and how the series slowly reveals the contours of their dynamic in the wake of Alice’s departure from the police force. There is a scene midway through the season during a torrential downpour that has to be a nod to an iconic moment from The X-Files pilot. Even if it is not intentional, their chemistry is electric.
Of course, Alice isn’t investigating an alien conspiracy, but there are still nefarious players at work. Only some of the FBI and NYPD mistakes can be chalked up to willful ignorance and incompetence.
Shared history informs the compelling push-pull between Alice and Danny, and an undercurrent of regret leads to darkly comedic back-and-forths, among many reminders that Meriwether can mine humor no matter the setting. Some of this is gallows humor, and some is the kind of trash-talking you might expect between two law enforcement agencies.
The latter applies across the board, such as when Danny meets Nora for the first time. “I just s--t a potato this morning,” Danny quips in response to Nora’s comment about his very Irish name.
Laughs also come from some actors known for comedies, like Steve Way, who was a standout in Ramy and whose Furious character, Alden, reveals another side to Catherine. Alden has some of the season’s biggest laughs later, offering a respite from the mounting trauma. Still, Way isn’t just there to sell funny dialogue, as some of the most tender moments take place in Alden’s home.
As more horrors are revealed, the series gains momentum, and the propulsive second half is enough to distract from the many spinning plates. While the material sometimes leans too hard into parallel experiences to hammer home the message, and several twists are telegraphed, the performances ensure that even the more outlandish moments land.
Petticrew was a force in the FX historical drama series Say Nothing, and the actor continues to impress, depicting Catherine’s focus and determination that cannot quite conceal the trauma and heartbreak that motivate these crimes. The attention to detail in childlike objects and sparkly garments juxtaposes what Catherine has gone through, and these items further highlight what has been stolen from this young woman.
The past also informs Alice’s self-destructive behavior. As with Dying for Sex, Meriwether explores intimacy, desire, and vulnerability in an unflinching way that reveals a daring quality in the material. Jake Lacy as Alice’s ex, Marshall, proves once again that he has become a great go-to nice guy who is actually an a--hole, and he more than rises to some of the more challenging sequences.
With seemingly very few people on hand to offer assistance without expecting something in return, and those in positions of authority looking the other way, the options are limited.
Furious isn’t here to solve all of society’s deep-rooted problems, or those of institutions supposed to protect from predators. But in getting these cases out of the basement and into the light, Alice and Catherine are no longer screaming into the void.
