American Crime

The third season of the anthological miniseries, which debuts Sunday, March 12, is nothing short of breathtaking in the way it attempts to show every single level of economic comfort--or lack thereof--in and around a small North Carolina farming community. From migrant workers to big wheels in agribusiness, the season covers them all.

I’m grateful that a series like this one exists in the first place. That it’s so intelligently written and shot and thoughtfully acted is a marvelous bonus.

Another brilliant, powerful, moving season of one of TV’s best.

Each character, each interpersonal relationship is exquisitely nuanced, realistically detailed and fully unpredictable. ... In the four episodes made available to critics, John Ridley again proves that great television isn’t to be found only on cable and streaming platforms.

The writing strikes a masterful balance between the general issues afflicting America and the individual characters, each so specific and relatable.

Every story in this constantly evolving season is a gripping winner. [10 Mar 2017, p.58]

Incredibly timely and powerful drama. [6-19 Mar 2017, p.21]

The starkest and grimmest yet with its depictions of migrant worker and teen girl trafficking. ... So as with When We Rise, applause, applause--even if it sometimes feels like one hand clapping.

American Crime may not leave you with much to interpret, but it always offers plenty to talk about.

Outstanding on all fronts--acting, cinematography and script are all top-notch--but it happens to be unrelentingly depressing as well.

It’s a compelling but also consistently depressing series, and, in its lack of gloss, unlike anything else on the prime time schedule. It’s not going to help matters that this season has exchanged some of American Crime’s clarity for more cloudiness, which I’m sure is Ridley’s intent.

The third season of ABC's outstanding American Crime manages to sidestep well-worn arguments about immigration and other hot-button topics with a set of compelling, interlocking stories that challenge viewers to see in new ways the people we so often manage not to see at all--migrant workers, teenage prostitutes, and opioid addicts--while giving a voice to others, like family farmers and small business owners, who have reason, too, to feel ignored.

The new episodes deftly bring its many stories together with as much righteous anger as artistry, I felt a tingle in a part of my brain that has largely laid dormant since my days as a TV tourist in West Baltimore.

What’s most striking about American Crime’s cocktail of hot topic themes is how well they blend into one another. The show takes its time in setting up each story layer by layer until one bleeds into the other proving how ultimately, it’s all part of the same flawed machine. This patience in storytelling is its greatest strength, as it also allows characters to have good and bad moments--to be human.

American Crime is not just important and intelligent but also completely absorbing. It demands our full attention (put down the magazine and ignore Facebook) and in return gives us plenty to think about.

It’s like attempting to empty the ocean with a bucket. But this season of“American Crime makes the case if you aren’t trying, you’re the problem.

There are slight miscues--Kimara’s attempts to become pregnant seem a distraction--but this very busy boat stays upright and moves forward, shifting just enough to stay interesting.

While American Crime surely is an impassioned and clear-eyed assessment of America’s socio-political dysfunction, the show it reminds me of is HBO’s far more metaphysical The Leftovers, another series questioning the mandate that TV be a good time.

The degree to which you can be moved and involved by American Crime depends on the degree to which the importance of its message and the fine performances of its stars outweigh the show’s often crushing heaviness.

American Crime artfully follows several different narratives that end up moving through the same obstacle course but with very different outcomes. The buildup is slower here and requires more patience than the last two seasons, partly because this installment of American Crime is more ambitious and covers more terrain.

American Crime is nothing then if not ambitious. At times perhaps over-ambitious: a pace that’s too slow, a cast of characters too large, and too many points to make to possibly bring them all home. But watching to see which ones do strike you--well, we lied. That actually is fun.

It’s not feel-good television. In the first two seasons it was very good television, and the third season has the elements to become just as compelling.

The latest American Crime doesn't initially feel as strong dramatically as two prior editions, but the central premise -- and the show's underlying approach to explore an issue, sympathetically, through the perspective of disparate characters -- couldn't be timelier.

Yes, the series sometimes grows a bit preachy: This installment, like its predecessors, tends to indulge in extended scenes whose dialogue can sound as if it were from a PBS documentary or a newspaper exposé. But you have to admire the ability of Mr. Ridley and his actors to wrap the earnestness in a compelling package.