This is a particularly good time to be a Netflix subscriber. Between House of Cards, Better Call Saul, The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt and the US remake of The Returned, Netflix is currently responsible for some of the best television we have.
And now it’s got Bloodline. A Netflix exclusive about a well-to-do family in the Florida Keys that premieres on Friday, Bloodline already has US critics frothing at the gills. It’s tense, they say. It’s compelling. You’ll be on the edge of your seat. From these early notices alone, Bloodline sounds like the sort of show that warrants a cleared weekend in and a job-lot of Pringles.
And the end of the first episode lives up to this hype. It takes Netflix’s unofficial mantra – just one more episode – and weaponises it. To fully explain just how, would be to ruin the premise of the entire series, although it’s probably harmless to reveal that it involves a flash-forward where all the preceding tension coalesces in a truly shocking manner. If you don’t immediately plunge into episode two after watching it, I am frankly suspicious of your restraint.
But whether you hang around any longer than that is anyone’s guess. The flash-forward sets up an irresistible end point – banking everything on the hope that you’ll want to see it through to its conclusion – which is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because at least you know the series is going somewhere (before the flash-forward, Bloodline is in danger of becoming a show primarily about sideways glances and cricket noises); and a curse because Bloodline is determined to take its time getting there.
Remember How I Met Your Mother? Remember what a brilliant premise it had, with the seeds of its finale built into the very first episode? And remember how, little by little, it went about squandering that premise? Remember how it spun its wheels through years of go-nowhere plots, until the premise had become utterly meaningless? And remember how, by the time it finally got around to answering its central question, it seemed like such a tossed-off afterthought that it only succeeded in infuriating its remaining fans? On the basis of the first three episodes, I’m a little worried that Bloodline is How I Met Your Mother all over again.
Episodes two and three slam on the brakes. The plot grinds on through long, mumbled scenes of soapy exposition, but the meaty stuff – what made the family do that? – is doled out in measly little bookends. Unless things kick into action with purpose from episode four onwards, Bloodline might end up being the most frustrating show around.
Tonally, too, it’s hard work. The characters are all archetypes – the good egg, the black sheep, the hothead – rather than fully formed people. Plus it takes itself so seriously – everything from the drama to the haircuts is sodden in oppressive humidity – that it’s permanently in danger of becoming a ridiculous self-parody.
Much of Netflix’s output so far has distinguished itself with an offbeat sense of fun – from the pantomime camp of House of Cards to Kimmy Schmidt’s joyous celebration of life – but there’s nothing of the sort to be found here. Bloodline is probably worth watching, but Netflix has such an embarrassment of riches on offer right now that it’s probably not worth watching first.
