Colin Farrell Turns Gotham Into ‘The Sopranos’ With HBO’s Thrilling ‘The Penguin’ Series | TV/Streaming

The idea of ​​a Batman series without The Batman is not new: for decades, we have seen a flurry of largely unsuccessful attempts to flesh out a Gotham City largely free of the caped crusader’s nocturnal adventures. Birds of Prey, Gotham Knights, Pennyworth: The Origin of Batman’s Butler have all left scathing impressions on the public mind. And indeed, if there is a close parallel to any of these shows in HBO’s latest series, The Penguin, it is the increasingly convoluted Gotham, which has devoted more time, over 100 episodes, to the criminal machinations of the city’s underworld than to anything else. But Lauren LeFranc’s take on the Gentleman of Crime rises, or rather waddles, above its competitors in eight short episodes, creating a gangland epic from its comic book origins that, if not surpassing, at least matches the sensibility of its inspirations.

Inspired by Matt Reeves’s gritty “Se7en”-inspired take on Batman, “The Penguin” picks up immediately after the 2022 film, after Paul Dano’s Riddler has blown up the levee protecting Gotham City and flooded large swaths of its poorest neighborhoods. Sensing an opportunity, mid-level mobster Oswald “Oz” Cobb (Colin Farrell, still unrecognizable beneath his filthy, obese prosthetics, gold teeth and lopsided gait) sees a way to rise to the top amid all the chaos: pitting the crippled Falcone (boss Carmine (Mark Strong in flashbacks, taking over from John Turturro) was killed in “The Batman”) against Maroni (boss Salvatore (Clancy Brown) is locked up in Blackgate Penitentiary).

But Oz’s greatest strengths—his gift for speech, his resourcefulness, his chameleonic ability to be all things to all people—are matched by his weaknesses, which include a “Goodfellas”-esque grudge that drives him to violence. In the opening minutes, that impulsiveness and insecurity get him into trouble, with an insult from Falcone’s heir, Alberto (Michael Zegen), prompting Oz to shoot the most heavily armored person in Gotham. Farrell sneers in justification beneath those prosthetics, then a veil falls over his face. “Oh, fuu—.”

This back-and-forth between Oz’s (or Penguin’s, if you really want to piss him off) ambitions and insecurities fuels the show’s eight episodes, which somehow manages to make this low-level cop epic feel complete and fulfilling despite the masked vigilante’s absence. Batman is mentioned only briefly in a news report, then never again; you’d think he’d turn his attention to the escalating turf war in Queens’ version of Gotham (Crown Point), but maybe he’s got bigger fish to fry. Good riddance, I say: It gives Farrell and co. a breather, letting LeFranc slowly build a cop drama that quickly escalates to a climax.

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 placed there as a suspected serial killer known as “The Executioner.” Whether the stories are true or not matters little: Arkham has either changed Sofia or brought out what already existed in her, and her plans as a newly revealed psychopath are likely to complicate Oz’s rise to power. Milioti plays Sofia with a dangerous twinkle in her eye, but happily refrains from any Harley Quinn theatrics (save for the occasional plunging neckline or ostentatious outfit). Instead, she’s a shark, deeply focused where Oz flicks his fins from one impulse to the next. At times, she threatens to steal the spotlight from Farrell; she’s that good.

But Farrell holds his ground, especially when he evolves his version of Cobb into something beyond the character’s stylistic origins, a la Robert De Niro and James Gandolfini. Yes, there’s something Scorsese or “The Sopranos” about the way Cobb carries his weight, and Noo Joyzy’s accent gives him just enough comic relief to combat the menace. Like Tony Soprano, he also has a complicated relationship with his mother (Dierdre O’Connell), who sees his lethal potential, for better or worse, and pushes him to realize it. (“You’re a weak little boy?” she coos to him, in one of her usual pep talks.)

The mama’s boy element extends throughout Cobb’s philosophy, informing his trajectory in fascinating ways. Farrell plays him as a dangerous man who wants nothing more than to be loved and admired, and will kill anyone who doesn’t want to be. He even takes a young thief (Victor, the stuttering Rhenzy Feliz) under his wing at the right moment of pity, and shows him the life they were denied by their shared upbringing in the slums of Gotham. He likes to think of himself as a good guy, and seems aggrieved when he feels compelled to kill someone who despises him. It’s this unpredictability that Farrell calibrates so well: desperate eyes behind prosthetics, curled lips revealing those golden jaws. Killing 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 dynamic guides us nicely through “The Penguin,” even if the eight-part format occasionally slows down midact. Flashbacks give us a tragic glimpse into Sofia and Oz’s twin tragedies, born of neglectful parental figures and the white-hot forging of their circumstances; they’re welcome, but sometimes hit the pause button on the current story’s pacing. The cinematography affects the gestures of Greig Fraser’s superlative work on “The Batman” — amber sunsets, jet-black nights — but feels inherently cheaper by comparison. And Mick Giacchino’s score brings welcome harsh notes to the show’s ’70s-influenced aesthetic, but lacks the iconic themes that Father Michael brought to Keanu Reeves’ film.

But throughout the film, “The Penguin” offers an intriguing back-and-forth between the grotesque and the realistic, a street-level crime drama nonetheless filled with cartoonish mob stereotypes and over-the-top characters with elaborate axes to grind. These impulses revolve around the twin orbits of Oz and Sofia, two peas in a pod who nonetheless want to kill each other. Both cling frustratedly to the American dream, battling society and themselves (and, ultimately, each other) to get ahead. It’s a bold story to set in the context of Gotham City, and “The Penguin” proves you don’t need a cape and cowl to tell it.

The full season has been viewed for commentary. Episodes air weekly on HBO with the premiere on Thursday night, September 19, before moving to Sundays, starting September 22. They will air on Max the following day.