It was somewhere in the third episode of Cinemax's Banshee when I looked up from my Twitter feed, stared at the screen and thought, Hey, this guy can act. By that time, I had already written off the show as just not for me. Still, I kept it in the background whilst I sorted my work papers, straightened out my desk and chatted with some friends on Twitter. Then, the camera focused on the still unnamed main character, played by Antony Starr. 'Angry?' he asks. 'You have no idea.' The amount of emotion Mr. Starr invested in those few words belonged to a better show than this, and made me pay attention. Banshee, ludicrous though it is at times, can be diverting, at times even engaging. This is one of those shows that I cannot in good conscience say is good, but which I actually would not mind seeing more of.
Antony Starr plays a recently released from prison master thief who tracks down his ex-girlfriend/ partner in crime to the small town of Banshee, Pennsylvania. Whilst chatting with the wise bartender Sugar (Frankie Faison), he ends up in a brawl with two thugs who work for the local kingpin. The thief kills the thugs, but not before they kill the new Sheriff, Lucas Hood. The thief then decides to take on the identity of the sheriff (he was hired by the young mayor, whom he has never met in person). As Lucas Hood, he reconnects with his ex Anastasia (now called Carrie Hopewell and married to the town prosecutor), meets his daughter, forms an uneasy relationship with the town kingpin Kai Proctor (Ulrich Thomsen), sh@gs lovely ladies who happen to lock eyes with him, and dispenses his own form of often brutal justice.
Brutality is as common a feature of this show as nudity; the Pilot, after all, included sh@gging in the first minute, and a shot of the hole through the real sheriff's hand. The brutality serves a purpose sometimes, as in the prison scenes that underscore the trauma of those 15 years for Hood. There are times when it is downright ridiculous, as when Hood engages a professional fighter; the two of them nearly kill each other in front of dozens of people, including members of the Sheriff's department and the town prosecutor. Did it not occur to any of these grown-ups/ figures of authority to break up the fight before someone ends up in a coma?
As for nudity, well, the show fulfils its quota. What is pleasantly surprising is that Rebecca Bowman (Lili Simmons), introduced as just another lady who loses her dress whenever Hood is in the vicinity, grows into an affecting character through the first season's ten episodes. A member of the Amish community, she is at night sexually adventurous, and is a party girl in a town where Sugar's bar seems to be the only watering hole. When her family discovers her secret and kicks her out, she turns to her uncle Kai, and ends the season as an apprentice to his criminal empire.
The story may not be that strong, but the performances across the board are solid (Hoon Lee as Hood's potty-mouthed hacker colleague is an irreverent delight). Ulrich Romsen, Frankie Faison and Ben Cross (as Rabbit, the powerful crime boss still after Hood and Carrie after all these years) all ground the show; their characters may be stock, but they portray them with easy gravity that lifts their scenes. Yet the show's greatest asset is its lead. I find myself looking forward to seeing the second season primarily to watch more of Antony Starr.
The episodes are workmanlike in competence, and many scenes would not look out of place in a summer action flick. There is an extended fight scene between Carrie and one of Rabbit's thugs that finds time between kicks, punches and blood to touch on sentiment and memory. Whilst resigned to watching what appears to be just another Cinemax show, Banshee sneaks in genuine emotion, and shines, though briefly.
Quotes:
Sugar: 'You one of 'em complicated types, is that it?'
Sugar: 'I'm a bartender. Wisdom is an occupational hazard.'
Kai Proctor: 'I've lost count of the people I hurt, and I still hurt people every day. You have no idea what that does to you inside. It's like a blade in your belly that gradually scrapes you raw.'
Rebecca: 'Why don't you just admit that you like being bad?'
The story may not be that strong, but the performances across the board are solid (Hoon Lee as Hood's potty-mouthed hacker colleague is an irreverent delight). Ulrich Romsen, Frankie Faison and Ben Cross (as Rabbit, the powerful crime boss still after Hood and Carrie after all these years) all ground the show; their characters may be stock, but they portray them with easy gravity that lifts their scenes. Yet the show's greatest asset is its lead. I find myself looking forward to seeing the second season primarily to watch more of Antony Starr.
The episodes are workmanlike in competence, and many scenes would not look out of place in a summer action flick. There is an extended fight scene between Carrie and one of Rabbit's thugs that finds time between kicks, punches and blood to touch on sentiment and memory. Whilst resigned to watching what appears to be just another Cinemax show, Banshee sneaks in genuine emotion, and shines, though briefly.
Quotes:
Sugar: 'You one of 'em complicated types, is that it?'
Sugar: 'I'm a bartender. Wisdom is an occupational hazard.'
Kai Proctor: 'I've lost count of the people I hurt, and I still hurt people every day. You have no idea what that does to you inside. It's like a blade in your belly that gradually scrapes you raw.'
Rebecca: 'Why don't you just admit that you like being bad?'
