Black Rabbit

Black Rabbit is worth watching for its stylish direction (Bateman’s fellow Ozark alum Laura Linney helms two episodes), propulsive pace that mitigates some of the narrative wheel-spinning, and most of all Law and Bateman’s brilliantly cast brother act. But technical polish and the faithful execution of genre conventions alone can’t elevate a show beyond competence.

“Black Rabbit” sags in its middle stretch. The final sprint is the most thrilling, with sibling squabbles and climactic action providing much-needed momentum. Until then, however, we’re asked to spend a prolonged stint with two highly unpleasant people.

Netflix’s gripping yet exasperating and criminally overlong eight-part thriller.

There are only so many ways this story can go, and it does indeed go to one of them, though it’s so likely by the time we get there that it doesn’t deliver much of an emotional charge.

“Black Rabbit” isn’t bad, exactly, but it’s never as good as it could or should be. There’s a mismatch between how seriously it presents itself, with its visual flair and familial themes, and its imprecision in plot and setting.

Given the robust talent behind “Black Rabbit,” it’s a shame their diligent work is in service of such a hollow, joyless venture.

This is a promising, if familiar, dynamic for Black Rabbit, created by King Richard screenwriter Zach Baylin, along with Kate Susman. But it rarely plays out in a compelling fashion, because neither brother comes across quite like the show wants them to.

Where the Disney+ series [The Bear] builds characters and relationships that are easy to care about, Black Rabbit tortures the detestable men at its centre – and us along with them.