Muncie (Colman Domingo), a respected author and CNN news commentator, goes to an Airbnb to write a novel. There, he comes across a White man who tells him that if he needs anything, he can simply knock on his door. Despite the smiles on the faces of these two characters, something feels off about this moment. You immediately sense racial tension. A few minutes later, when Muncie goes to the White man's house to ask for his help, he finds his corpse cut into various pieces. Suddenly, two masked men come out in the open and chase Muncie in the forest. It's not a spoiler to say that Muncie manages to escape from the men's grasp, but that doesn't mean he is safe. He faces more and more problems, starting with two White police officers who, instead of believing in Muncie's horrifying experience, end up considering him a suspect. If you haven't guessed it yet, let me just be clear and say that yes, The Madness, among other things, deals with the issue of race. That murdered White man is revealed to be a white supremacist named Mark Simon (Tahmoh Penikett). What's amusing about The Madness is that everybody knows Mark is bad, yet Muncie is turned into a fugitive because the law enforcement officers see him as a criminal.
Whenever Muncie is out on the streets, he becomes paranoid. A car stops near him, and he becomes alert and starts fearing for his life. People like Mark (white supremacists) give him threats and send ugly messages to his ex-wife, Elena (Marsha Stephanie Blake), and his son, Demetrius (Thaddeus J. Mixson). Almost everybody looks like an enemy to Muncie, so he feels unsafe in public places. Things get so worse that Muncie, at one point, handles a situation through his phone and later uses a gun to scare off some White men. The Madness gets the coating of a conspiracy theory, thanks to the mention of some big, influential names combined with the shots of all those eyes staring at Muncie and those cars that scream danger. These scenes, however, lack visual energy and excitement. A film like Brian De Palma's Blow Out leaves you convinced that you are not really safe. Phones can be easily tapped, making you susceptible to manipulation. Every frame in Blow Out fills you with uneasiness. The images are charged, so you are always on the edge. We do not feel such emotions when we watch The Madness. The cars, the stares, the phone surveillance all look flat.
The series only comes alive briefly during some occasions, like during a confrontation at a restaurant that is interrupted by the waiter. A scene involving Lucie (Tamsin Topolski) and one of Mark's friends nicely plays with your expectations. The idea of sending Muncie and Elena to a swinger's club sounds promising, but the scene is anticlimactic and bland. Some of the actors keep you invested. Alison Wright, as Julia, has a cold, calm face that's terrifying in a comical way. She conveys deeper emotions when we learn more about her life and her profession. Domingo is almost always confused and scared, which makes sense, but he doesn't make us care about his character (he makes us feel nothing, in fact). He is just a functional presence. Gabrielle Graham wonderfully adds humor to lines like, "Okay, John Wick," with her accent. J. Mixson, however, seems to be the only person here whose performance exists on the appropriate level - somewhere between comedy and seriousness (after a point, it starts tipping more towards the latter, making this character colorless). He infuses levity into a car chase. His casual behavior during high-pressure situations elicits chuckles from the audience.
The America we observe in The Madness is nothing but hell. The citizens look like zombies - they seem unresponsive and detached. A worker dismisses Muncie's complaint about a man who is masturbating by saying that unless the body fluid comes in contact with you or your luggage, everything's just fine. When Muncie exposes someone later, we don't see any public protests. The story deals with journalistic ethics and disinformation, indicating that there is no Big Boss, only too many cogs in a machine that reeks of corruption. The Madness contains all the ingredients for a drama/thriller/comedy/satire, but it's feebly executed. You are not consistently engaged. That's because most of the information, be it personal or political, is dispensed without dramatic weight. Intimate and crucial plot-related details are delivered as footnotes. The show doesn't know how to absorb you with its expositions and conversations. A series like this must be tight, but the eight-long episodes render the story loose and often push it to the tip of tedium. One can see the wild chaos on the screen. However, we never actually feel the madness.
Final Score- [5.5/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times