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Eric Review: Where Our Monsters Live

Abi Morgan, the brilliant mind behind “Shame,” returns with another spectacular story “Eric.” This six-episode mini-series, directed by Lucy Forbes of “This is Going to Hurt”, and starring the incomparable Benedict Cumberbatch, plunges us into the chaotic depths of 1980s New York. With a city grappling with homelessness, homophobia, racial discrimination, and political corruption, the show holds up a mirror to both then and now, questioning what has changed and what remains hauntingly the same.

The series centers around Vincent (Benedict Cumberbatch), a tortured artist and creator of a popular children’s puppet show, whose life spirals into turmoil when his son, Edgar, goes missing. Vincent, struggling with addictions and his own abusive tendencies, not yet healed from his own childhood traumas, can only connect to others in toxic ways. His relationship with Edgar is already on the rocks, tainted by marital struggles and frequent explosive fights. In many ways, Vincent is a man-child himself, still grappling with his own “unlovedness” and feelings of abandonment.

As Edgar’s disappearance grips the city’s attention, we are introduced to Detective Ledroit (McKinley Belcher III). Assigned to Edgar’s case, Ledroit is also haunted by another unresolved case of a missing child, Marlon Rochelle. Both Vincent and Ledroit embark on parallel journeys of self-acceptance and identity throughout the course of the show. Ledroit, a gay black cop, conceals his sexuality to keep his job while caring for his partner, who is dying from AIDS. His dedication to his job contrasts sharply with the media and city’s indifference to Marlon’s case, highlighting the stark disparity in attention given to a missing black child versus a white child from a prominent family.

The script, layered and beautifully written, goes deep into themes of love, responsibility, personal growth, and transgenerational traumas. The core of the story is the fraught father-son relationship between Vincent and Edgar though. In a striking scene from episode one, Vincent, in a drunken and aggressive outburst, forces Edgar to pitch an idea for a new puppet, Eric, at the dinner table. Ignoring Edgar’s creativity and soul, Vincent’s behavior pushes Edgar away. Ironically, Vincent becomes obsessed with building Eric and bringing him onto his show, hoping if Edgar sees his blue, potty mouthed monster on TV, he will come home.

In a surreal twist, Eric, born from Vincent’s drunken, drug-fueled night, manifests as a real entity, refusing to leave Vincent’s side. This puppet becomes Vincent’s shadow self, embodying his guilt, sorrow, self-hatred and sense of responsibility. The show explores the idea that we all wrestle with our demons, and that in our world many types of monsters exist – from immoral politicians through power-drunk policemen to deceitful partners. Vincent’s descent into self-destruction, though occasionally exaggerated, underscores a critical message: personal growth can catalyze broader change. As Vincent – as well as Tolstoy – echo, ‘Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.’

Eric Netflix

Source: Netflix

Art and creativity add an exciting spice to the series, linking Vincent and Edgar beyond their bloodline. Edgar’s bond with a new friend, Yuusuf, also underscores that our connections often go deeper than what meets the eye.

The acting throughout the series is exceptional. Cumberbatch delivers what might be his career-best performance, and his scenes with Hoffman, who plays the hopeful yet broken mother, are masterclasses in acting. Ivan Morros Howe, as Edgar, is perhaps the weakest link, barely showing any emotion, but McKinley Belcher III as Detective Ledroit gives a powerhouse performance, his portrayal simmering with suppressed intensity and nuance.

Unfortunately, the series loses force in its climax. Without giving too much away, the build-up to episode six’s peak and its resolution feel somewhat one-note and drawn-out. Despite this, the directing remains aesthetically firm, crafted, and beautifully shot. The set and costume design authentically recreate 1980s New York, even though the shoot was split between New Jersey and Budapest. The music, with symbolic choices like Elton John’s tracks, provides a real-time travel experience. A memorable scene features Cumberbatch dancing to “Gloria,” a dynamic and fun yet profoundly sad moment that demonstrates the show’s emotional complexity – and Cumberbatch’s unique dance moves.

“Eric” is a series we need right now. It offers an honest reflection on individual and societal issues while giving us hope for change. Viewers will likely find inspiration to take that first step toward bettering their lives and relationships. In today’s tumultuous times, such narratives of healing are essential.

“Eric” is now streaming on Netflix. Don’t miss it.

~ by Dora Endre ~