Ozark

Bateman's commanding performance powers a gripping, twisty, sometimes spotty yarn that plays like Breaking Bad in reverse, a darkly comic deconstruction of antihero fantasy about a man flailing to rediscover the value of human life. [21/28 July 2017, p.108]

Richly human and ruthlessly plotted--though overeager in repeatedly stating its existential theme of bad choices and worse consequences--Ozark is a triumph for Bateman. [24 Jul - 6 Aug 2017, p.14]

Ozark makes its bones via Bateman’s solid work, another reliably strong performance from Linney and an intriguing if sometimes over-populated immorality play that tantalizingly firms its grip.

The series regularly finds a way to highlight the humanity in a story of inhuman acts, and knows when to turn away from an act too vile to witness.

[Ozark] ecomes increasingly engrossing. As 10-episode binges go, the show yields an admirable return on investment.

The good news is that Ozark isn’t all that predictable and develops its own quirky rhythm. ... Even when the series seems to be drifting, it keeps luring you in.

The series--created by Bill Dubuque, who wrote the films The Accountant and The Judge--is often still compelling to watch, especially for those who consider “average guy goes gangster” one of their favorite TV subgenres. That’s thanks in large part to the layered performances from its cast, especially its two leads, Bateman, who also directed four of the episodes, and Laura Linney, who plays Wendy, Marty’s not entirely innocent wife.

Bateman is nicely restrained on the drama. ... Dubuque quickly gives us a strong ensemble of city folk and hicks, innocents and thugs. The overall vibe of the show is suspenseful, but there are small pockets of comedy usually found in the behavior of the locals.

It’s very much another desperate man in a desperate situation. Whether he’ll emerge better than Walter White is anyone’s guess. Dubuque, however, makes the journey just as intriguing.

Ozark is smart, well-crafted, and says something.

The plot runs from dark to darker. But there are also flashes of humor, and the Byrdes are well-developed as characters from the beginning. Their plight, and the path they find themselves on, is twisty enough to hold interest, but laid out clearly enough to keep viewers from feeling hopelessly lost.

Beyond the first episode, Ozark finds a certain pace and, if nothing else, you keep watching hoping at least most of them get what’s coming to them. You can’t look away.

Created by Bill Dubuque and Mark Williams (both of whom worked on “The Accountant”), Ozark does most things right. Not every plot point feels completely plausible, but the show looks good and plays well; the writing is crisp and not too colorful; the performances are unforced and believable.

It’s not as good as all-time classics like The Sopranos, The Wire and Breaking Bad, but it shares the same enquiring nature: intelligently examining the psychology, sociology and economics that fuel crime.

While there’s a lot to like in the cast and some of the plot, one of the major problems with the series, created by Bill Dubuque and Mark Williams (The Accountant), is that episodes feel too long at 60 minutes. It’s easy to find places where smart editing could have added momentum and urgency.

While the pilot, directed by Bateman, matches the rest of the show’s bleak color palette, it unfolds mechanically and predictably. ... The final episodes reflect the evolution of a series that transcends the sum of its initially uneven parts.

The show has an occasionally suspenseful twist. (Electrocution in the water: Watch out!) But as it proceeds, Ozark takes way too long to make a few good points and to showcase a few good performances, most prominently Jason Bateman’s.

Ozark, which contains so many fragments and threads from existing prestige shows that it sometimes feels like a particularly grim televisual quilt, is at least pleasingly tense in its first episode.

“Breaking Bad” had propulsive, straightforward stories that dragged you from season to season. In Ozark, a lot happens, but not much is going on.

The producers have come up with a somber, plodding, almost entirely humorless mix of Breaking Bad and Justified, when they should have made a show about this spitfire of a character, the only one in the ensemble who isn’t bringing everything down.

Ozark can be excruciatingly cumbersome. There are many moving parts, none compelled to move with haste. If the characters were more engaging and likable, pace might not even be an impediment. They’re not, so it is.

Ozark is simply too busy to contextualize its story and surroundings. Having swum out too far in its own murky waters, the show frantically kicks and flails its way to an open-ended conclusion that doesn’t quite feel like it was worth all the trouble.

Enough is happening in Ozark that it's never boring, which sets it apart from Netflix's recent misguided stab at prestige programming, Gypsy. Instead of being predictable, though, Ozark becomes monotonous.

Marty and Wendy don’t give Bateman and Linney much cause to stretch. One gets saddled with some sub-Scorsese soliloquies about criminal philosophy; the other has to make subtext into text with lines about vultures circling the Byrds’ and the scrubbing of a damned spot on the family’s dock. ... Derivative and lethargic.

A lot of this would play more thrillingly if the characters didn’t seem as wooden; if the series felt like it was written to serve more than just a need to present power plays.

Ozark’s insistence on presenting the grimiest version of its story possible stands in the way of explaining why anything within its universe is happening. The presentation and the characters and the smug tone eventually coalesce into something deeply irritating. ... Ozark is offensive and doesn’t understand why it’s offensive.

Not only does it feel unoriginal and tired, but it comes across as a vanity project for star/executive producer Jason Bateman, who also directs some episodes.