Cross is an adaptation done right.
Unsurprisingly, Aldis Hodge brings the titular character to life, making this iconic hero his own mere seconds into the season premiere.
He doesn’t release his hold on the audience, as he completely captivates them, and moves them with his portrayal until the credits roll in the season finale.
But again, it’s no surprise, as from Leverage and Underground to City on a Hill, he has not only shown off his range throughout his career but has proven to be a powerhouse performer.
Cross was made for him; he distinguishes himself from previous iterations and his predecessors, Morgan Freeman and Tyler Perry, thus delivering the best adaptation.
Action thriller adaptations are all the rage, and the series joins the ranks of shows like Jack Ryan and Reacher.
But unlike Reacher’s overhyped debut season, Cross is all hits and few misses.
The culmination of strong writing and a skillful cast results in the perfect binge-worthy series.
And one that carves out a space of its own amid similar ilk.
Cross took a risk by not adapting a specific story and instead opting for an original one.
In doing so, the series captures the full essence of the book series and these characters and truly breathes life into them while also telling a unique and all-its-own story.
One of the most irritating aspects of adaptations can often be how incessant debates over how faithful they were to the original source dilute the quality, conversation, and enjoyment.
Diverting from the source allows Cross to serve as a strong character study while also choosing its approach to taking on grisly cases.
With Cross, the series has diverging plot points as it somehow, although not always flawlessly, juggles a dark serial killer case on the front burner with a personal stalking case on the back.
The latter is allowed to simmer throughout the series, never fully disappearing but lying in wait so that when it rears its head in Episode 7, it’s a genuine shock (and delight) that the series didn’t abandon it.
There are times when Cross’ ambitious attempt to balance both cases falters, only because there’s so much jampacked into every episode that it’s hard to keep up with the facts and pieces of both and determine which belongs where.
Some of the overlap gets a bit fuzzy and lost in the fast-paced, but it’s purely entertaining enough that you don’t mind much in those moments when you feel a bit lost.
It’s a tight eight episodes, and Cross doesn’t waste a second of its time and is all the better for it.
It also understands the art and allure of a psychological thriller.
The eight-episode cat-and-mouse game is scintillating—intellectually thrilling in a way that harkens back to the late, great Mindhunter while also action-oriented enough to still liven things up.
Cross’s approach to action-themed moments feels far more grounded and less hokey than one expects from a series of this caliber, and it’s all the better.
More “feels” than fists; Cross allows the characters to simply be complex, resonant characters viewers can connect with amid investigating a sadistic case that makes Criminal Minds cases look like child’s play.
Cross routinely shines in its ability to deliver character-centric and plot-driven storytelling. This feat seems to be near impossible these days, particularly for anything found on a streamer.
Both cerebral and evocative, Cross is a treasure trove of contradictions for its presumed genre that somehow and some way come together perfectly.
This results in a series I happily binged through with rapt attention, thrilled that the momentum never slowed and the characters never felt one note.
One of the standout components of this series may make some bristle, but if so, that is a pity you can unpack amongst yourselves.
Cross is unapologetically Black.
Whereas other iterations may have danced around Alex’s identity, Cross powers right on through it in a refreshingly authentic way that doesn’t alienate its audience.
Cross is for the culture by simply giving us insight into it, inviting viewers into the conversations and world of a Black man who happens to be one of D.C.’s finest cops without ever reducing Alex to a diversity tick on the list.
That already elevates Cross from its source material.
Cross is carefully cultured, and its infusion into the series is delightfully effortless. However, it also feels like the subtlest nod to Blaxploitation, right down to the wardrobe and needle drops.
D.C. itself serves as a minor character in the series.
“Chocolate City” is deeply embedded into the series’ fabric with shots of murals, affectation in speech, and mentions of that infamous Mumbo sauce that I vividly recall and instantly crave upon mention.
Alex is a child of D.C., someone the communities have come to respect, as his reputation seems to precede the series and further adds to his reception, as well as just how great of a cop he is.
But he’s still a Black cop, and the series is wise to address that.
Some may take issue with that, but it’s unavoidable and brings authenticity.
It adds to his conflict and that of most Black people in law enforcement, straddling two worlds and trying to navigate both with moral fiber and balance.
The show quickly addresses this upon the death of reformed criminal turned activist Emir, whose death sparks the type of outrage that feels all too familiar.
When that happens, characters like Alex and trusty comrade and brother for life John are in the crosshairs as the community looks to them for real answers and accountability or just as those who can take the brunt of blame, frustration, and despair.
It’s not easy being a Black cop, as they seem like two totally conflicting planes of existence, and the series doesn’t shy away from that.
But it also has no interest in politicizing or pontificating about choosing a side, making a strong statement, or beating us over the head with any messaging or indictments.
It leaves things at the complexities and nuances of these talking points and observations that don’t overtake the story or characters simply because it’s the honest thing to do.
Cross handles so many of these little nuances well regarding nearly everything.
Hodge, in particular, gives a visceral performance as a brilliant but flawed profiler, a loving and devoted but struggling father, and a grieving widow who still has the capacity to love.
He hits every note asked of him in a script that, in less capable hands, could be tonally jarring at times, swinging from one point of focus to the next.
Offhand, the romance portion of the series underwhelms simply because the other areas of Cross are more compelling.
However, even the romance has its point and importance, as we find Cross, a year after his wife died, still mourning her loss while engaging in something new and difficult with Elle.
Aside from the fact that positive displays of Black Love are a rarity, it’s refreshing to see a series approach how the heart can still hold love for two people, and Cross handles this so delicately as Elle’s presence grounds him in his private life as much as plays a pivotal role in his investigation.
The series perfectly balances Alex’s personal storylines with his work, showcasing how the job impacts his home life, especially as a stalker terrorizes his family.
But also, Cross’ personal life profoundly impacts his professional life as we’re following him in the aftermath of his wife’s death, and that leads to some troubling moments for him, as even the great Alex Cross has terrible days on the job subject to scrutiny and strong reactions.
Hodge handles this balancing act remarkably well, bringing the two points of his life together in a way that’s thrilling enough or simply human enough that you never once consider that one element of this series can exist without the other.
But as heartening and, at times, emotional as Alex’s home life and the bond between him and his grandmother, children, and girlfriend are—and unlike other series, the family arc is of actual importance and compelling on its own and doesn’t detract from anything else—it’s the dynamic with John Sampson that is at the very heart of this series.
With renewed appreciation, I’m eternally grateful for this burgeoning era of showcasing powerful, poignant brotherhood onscreen.
At the center of Cross is the dynamic between Alex and John; nearly everything seems to hang upon this bond that both Hodge and Mustafa do such justice that I eagerly await revisiting it.
With these two, Cross explores masculinity without toxicity, unflinchingly depicting two men, particularly men of color, wholly unapologetic in loving on one another and holding each other to account.
They’re the embodiment of the “You good?” movement that destigmatizes mental health and encourages MOC to have open and honest conversations with their fellow men about feelings, fear, stress, and all of life’s challenges as a human.
It’s so genuinely refreshing to witness that it’s no wonder it carries so much of the series. Even as conflict brews between them, it’s beautifully and, at times, hilariously handled.
Their multilayered bond easily becomes one of the strongest dynamics currently on the air.
They are two brothers who can grapple and roughhouse with each other as well as talk openly about their feelings, namely Alex’s pain and how he’s struggling because he isn’t addressing his grief.
That brotherhood in one season casually destigmatizes mental health and therapy, as well as how men show love and affection for one another.
Frankly, I could devote another 1000 words to the importance of that depiction onscreen now more than ever, but I won’t.
I would say that Isaiah Mustafa is the unsung hero of Cross, but hell, I’m singing the hell out of his praises, and surely others will and have done the same.
Mustafa is simply incredible as John Sampson, serving as the perfect balance to Alex.
He is loyal beyond measure but also unafraid to hold a mirror up to his friend and constantly tell him about himself.
He’s strong, principled, and steady, and Mustafa has a way of taking up all the space in a room, not just because he’s massive and badass, although that’s a special treat in itself.
A DMX needle drop in the finale involving him will live in my head rent-free and should unofficially become his anthem.
Sampson isn’t merely a sidekick in Alex’s story—he’s a multi-faceted character whom Cross allows to stand on his own.
And Mustafa takes that inch and runs it the full mile.
However, that’s the beauty of Cross as a whole.
Aldis Hodge is undeniably the star, and he certainly packs the star power in every second of the series.
But Cross never dulls the supporting cast’s light, as it fully understands that greatness requires more greatness around it.
While some characters feel underdeveloped or like fixtures (Chief Anderson is particularly one-note, and two particular twists in hindsight felt apparent because of how randomly shoehorned in the characters were), the vast majority of Cross’ supporting cast is top-tier.
It is given carte blanche to lean into their performances fully.
We see this most with some of the players in Cross’ deliciously twisty and obsessive serial killer case, which consumes the entire season.
Johnny Ray Gill has never met a role, big or small, that he hasn’t bodied, and his depiction of Bobby Trey effortlessly joins the list.
Gill’s a true thespian, the type of actor who knows how to bring the magic of stage and theater to the screen with a full-bodied performance and flair that holds your attention every moment he’s onscreen.
And he does that in Cross — committing in such a way that you almost feel bad for how enjoyable you find him despite how dastardly Bobby Trey is as an opportunistic man for hire and ruthless killer who is only ever in anything for himself.
He’s so perfectly cast that the primary case’s conclusion works well because of his performance and the sick delight one could maybe get from immortalizing his panache.
Gill isn’t alone in this; Ryan Eggold’s departure from New Amsterdam is so delectably twisted I’m campaigning for him to play more complex, morally bankrupt, or downright evil roles.
Let him loose!
Eggold gleefully attacks the role of Ramsey with aplomb.
He visibly has so much fun losing himself in an adversarial position that, through sheer will and charisma, he compels you to enjoy every second of his screen time.
And that requires us to settle in for some truly bizarre and twisted content.
Every moment Eggold and Hodge go toe-to-toe with one another is masterful.
Eggold is just as fascinating to watch against Eloise Mumford, who Cross depicts as more survivor than victim, as Alex and John seemingly race against time and a convoluted agenda to find her in time.
Mumford does so much with a role that anywhere else would be a thankless one, as a spirited Shannon whose grit, strength, and fear are all palpable in equal measure.
One of her most notable moments wasn’t the more overt displays of fight and ferocity or tearful clips of raw fear, but a quiet moment in which she sang the words to a Millennial anthem, Nelly Furtado’s “I’m Like a Bird,” in a time representative of the intersection between hope and hopelessness.
Again, Cross’ strength is in a fantastic lead who embodies the essence of a staple character and brings him to life in a way that hasn’t been done before, and a supporting cast that elevates.
This series offers something for everyone.
It plays into some of the best and strongest elements of genres and certain tropes while also being completely unique.
The focus on mental health and grief rather than active approaches against it, for example, completely modernizes the genre and lets some much-needed light into stale spaces.
Cross and Sampson’s strong dynamic, emblematic of a new era of buddy-cop partnerships, buoys the series.
The strong performances and dynamics truly are the most gripping parts of this series, making it worth the watch. The strong writing, twists and turns, and thrills are simply an added bonus.
Over to you, TV Fanatics.
What inspired you to tune into Cross?
Will you be tuning into Cross?
And if so, let’s discuss the series in the comments below when you do!
The post Cross Review: Aldis Hodge & Cast Captivate in Gripping Adaptation that Redefines the Genre appeared first on TV Fanatic.
Source: TV Fanatic
