Hap and Leonard

Inconvenient as that is, and fear takes many forms here, the first three episodes of Hap and Leonard sucked me in almost as easily as Trudy pulls Hap.

The first episode is packed with juicy moments, in terms of both character and unexpected plot twists. By the end of the pilot, the show's combination of thematic thoughtfulness, buddy criminal character moments, and shocking blood spatter are very much in place.

There are times when it’s a little too relaxed for its own good, and it has trouble reconciling its wit and sexiness with bursts of harrowing violence that feel imported from a Quentin Tarantino movie (or a film by one of Tarantino’s imitators). But the sum total is so beguiling and unusual--for television as a whole, if not for Sundance, which specializes in this kind of storytelling--that it’s hard not to become entranced by it.

Hap and Leonard works its strengths slowly, until you’re eager to see where these characters are headed next and how they’ll work their way out of what looks like an increasing degree of trouble.

It succeeds in being strange, funny, tense, and emotional, with the relationship between Leonard and Hap--who behave like brothers and often like kids--as its shining core.

A terrifically offbeat caper, serving up a sultry, sexy brew of wry humor with flashes of psycho suspense. [29 Feb-6 Mar 2016, p.17]

There’s the distinct feeling that whatever weaknesses crop up in the first three episodes of Hap And Leonard might resolve themselves in the second half, because it’s so evidently conceived and executed like a six-hour movie. Between the bright performances and the mischievous genre-bending, it’s certainly worth a cheap fling.

The drama starts a little slow as we’re introduced to Hap, Leonard and Trudy, but once Trudy recruits the men to help her, the show kicks into gear. The fun becomes watching the two men make the most of the bad situations that seem to befall them.

The script is a masterpiece of Texas noir, with the kind of dialogue Raymond Chandler might have written if he’d found his way to the area.

The actors are charismatic enough to compensate for the self-consciousness.

The long play of television is supposed to give writers, and audiences, time to get to know characters more intimately, but Hap and Leonard repeats itself, pleasantly enough, instead of going deeper.

It doesn't all make perfect sense, especially where the action departs from or adds to the book, and the players, as talented and likable and natural as they are, sometimes seem to be actors on the job rather than people whose fate has brought them to such and such a pass; the script keeps them busy, without (so far) bringing them to life. They're good, but not compelling company. But it's always wonderful merely to behold.

At times, it lingers there too long, ambling when it should advance, but the series’ combination of carefully sketched characters and stewing atmosphere is potent enough to overcome such occasional lethargy.

Hap and Leonard turns into an unsteady but nonetheless engaging series.

Its narrative moves very slowly in the three episodes made available to critics, with a third-episode revelation that anyone who’s seen a thriller before will know is coming way before it registers with the folks on-screen. The show has atmosphere aplenty--that’s one excellent quality it shares with Mickle and Damici’s Cold In July; Hap and Leonard could use more of that film’s tightly-coiled suspense.

The Hap and Leonard friendship is a fantastic mixture of politically incorrect, boundary-free banter, loving antagonism and do-anything-for-each-other dedication, and the writers push hard to convey the friendship, even if some of the back-and-forths feel more natural on the page.... The 45-minute episodes and the sometimes light narrative leave the initial three episodes feeling somewhat thin, but that feeling could abate in the presumably intense closing three episodes, or maybe the first season will be best binged as prelude to a second season.

The characters are appealing, if a little thin around the edges. The problem with the early episodes--written and directed by Jim Mickle, who also made the film “Cold in July,” based on a Lansdale novel--has to do with a slow pace and a sameness that muffle the humor and menace we expect from smart noir.