HBO’s Love & Death is no whirlwind romance
Graham Hillard
“Would you be interested in having an affair?” So asks Candy Montgomery (Elizabeth Olsen), the chipper Texas mother at the heart of HBO’s new limited series Love & Death. The object of Candy’s affections is one Allan Gore (Jesse Plemons), a stolid churchgoer with a wife and family of his own. As anyone who has ever read a novel can see coming, the liaison that follows produces 10 parts sorrow for every one part joy. That doesn’t mean, however, that the ride isn’t occasionally thrilling.
However else it operates, the series’s plot-defining romance is perhaps most effective as an exercise in dramatic irony. Offered sex by the aggressive Candy, Allan makes “pro” and “con” lists as if considering an automobile trade-in. Even our heroine, convinced that she could cheat without consequence, makes inane pledges. For one, falling in love is a nonstarter. These best-laid plans are, of course, ridiculous, as events both emotional and social soon prove. By the time the lovers come to their senses, it is far too late to defuse the bomb they have planted. The only remaining choice is to dive out of the way and let others face the explosion.
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Love & Death is many things besides a saga of marital infidelity. In its opening episodes, the show is a chronicle of small-town religiosity and a 1970s nostalgia-fest. One half-expects an appearance by the Christian rock band Petra. Later, as the series embraces the second part of its name, viewers are treated to a marvelously tense crime procedural, complete with busted bodies and bloody footprints. In its concluding episodes, the program veers toward law and order, pairing police interrogations with southern-fried courtroom intrigues. Think A Time to Kill. Holding all of this mostly together are two stellar leads and the practiced pen of showrunner David E. Kelley.
Kelley, who made his bones on such network television hits as The Practice and Ally McBeal, might once have seemed an odd choice for the “prestige” model. Nevertheless, by now, he’s got a handle on the formula. (Take an established name, stick her on premium cable, sex things up a bit, and rake in the millions.) Kelley’s first such foray, Big Little Lies (2017-2019), featured not only Nicole Kidman but Reese Witherspoon, Laura Dern, and Meryl Streep. That each actress’s performance was rank caricature hardly mattered at that voltage. Nor did audiences abandon The Undoing (2020) — Kidman again, with Hugh Grant — despite its essential cheesiness. In both instances, soapy plotting and sheer star power made up for any lapses in believability, pacing, and design.
Though Love & Death is superior by far to these previous efforts, it, too, suffers from a certain unevenness. Much is made, for instance, of Allan’s marriage to the neurotic Betty (Lily Rabe) despite the fact that both character and performance are boring and unlikable. Candy’s husband, Pat (Patrick Fugit), fares somewhat better but is still no match for the show’s crackerjack main duo. I get it: A show about adultery and murder can’t help investing in the victims, however lackluster their casting. Yet what about the pointless, interminable church-politics subplots that nearly grind the first three episodes to a halt? Like any good Presbyterian, I take a positive delight in Methodist discombobulation. Still, one wonders if quite so many arguments about declining membership were really necessary.
Blessedly, Love & Death spends most of its time with its outstanding leads. As the taciturn Allan, Plemons (Breaking Bad, Fargo) gives what must be his dozenth pitch-perfect performance in a row, delivering nothing false, adding no adornments, but securing his reputation as one of our most honest and compelling television actors. Olsen (WandaVision) is also excellent in a different way, mannered but precise. Her post-2017 Marvel slumming has left her richer but no worse for wear. Look for her onstage come Emmy night.
When the plot hits its stride in Episode 4, the result is one of the best hours of television that will stream this year. Here, for the first time since The Practice, is Kelley at his most masterly, wringing tension and jet-black humor from a surreal criminal encounter that unfolds at a flawless pace. Though Love & Death is based on a true story and gives away much in its trailers, I will not spoil the particulars. Suffice it to say that Olsen’s astonishing range is on full display. Pulling up the episode to check a lone detail, I ended up rewatching nearly the whole thing.
Is it worth some early squirming to get to this point? I think so. Without question, the show’s first three episodes could have been condensed to two, but the latter going is good enough to make up for that and then some. Credit goes in part to Tom Pelphrey (Ozark), who does yeoman’s work as the real-life criminal-defense attorney Don Crowder. Really, though, the series just needed some action. We all knew the affair was heading toward disaster. But knowing that and seeing how are two quite different things.
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Graham Hillard is a Washington Examiner magazine contributing writer and the managing editor of the James G. Martin Center for Academic Renewal.