Disney+’s new thriller series Paradise follows Agent Xavier Collins (Sterling K. Brown) as he investigates a high-profile murder in the town of Paradise, an idyllic vision of anywhere in the U.S., reserved for the highest echelon of American society. By the way, I’m almost certain the town center is the same setting used for Stars Hollow in Gilmore Girls. I’d recognize that gazebo anywhere.
Paradise starts off strong, but having been let down by so many streaming mystery series over the past decade, it’s hard not to approach any new drama with a hint of skepticism. However, after 40 minutes of brilliant pacing, stunning cinematography, great performances, and the exploration of a genuinely engaging little world, I had to admit that Paradise was laying down some particularly juicy bait. In the final minutes of episode one, when the story reveals its first major twist, I took that bait — hook, line, and sinker. I should have known, but I couldn’t help myself.
Stars: Sterling K. Brown, James Marsden, Krys Marshall
The next four episodes focus on one of the story’s other main characters, tying them together through Xavier’s investigation into the murder. There’s Cal (James Marsden), a bathrobe enthusiast and former President of the United States; Samantha (Julianne Nicholson), a technocrat who pulls the strings; Gabrielle (Sarah Shahi), a grief counselor and social engineer; and Billy (Jon Beavers), a bad-boy bodyguard from parts unknown. The web of relationships and motivations comes together like a near-future game of Clue, hinting at a much larger game playing out in Paradise’s halls of power.
Production-wise, Paradise is a visually stunning show. The mystery is full of moving parts, and the directors deftly navigate a complex web of characters and timelines, sometimes cutting between multiple flashbacks without losing the narrative thread. Every shot is meticulously planned, with blocking and color grading that feels more like a David Fincher movie than a typical streaming series. The cast delivers exceptional performances, with Julianne Nicholson standing out for her heartbreaking portrayal of a business leader and mother navigating a family tragedy.
The first two acts of the season cover the entire spectrum of TV drama. There are murders, complicated romances, family drama, impending disasters, a whodunit, betrayal, and even some tasteful but lingering shower scenes that combine sex and espionage. It’s a proper narrative onion. No one can survive on onions alone, though, and no amount of partially naked Sterling K. Brown can change that. Unfortunately, by episode six, when all of Paradise’s preparation should begin to pay off, the show seems to run out of creativity to deliver on its earlier promises.
The mystery doesn’t so much unfold as it fully unravels. The story painstakingly sets up a Rube Goldberg machine of plot hooks for Xavier to set off. Instead of taking advantage of it, events fall into a pattern of dumb luck and chicanery. New characters are introduced just in time to play pivotal roles. A key piece of evidence conveniently contains eerily candid recordings of villains exposing their plans. A group of the world’s greatest minds struggle to solve what should be a basic computer problem. Meanwhile, a top-secret digital MacGuffin isn’t protected by anything more sophisticated than an AirTag. It all feels deeply unsatisfying.
Even less satisfying is the shift to a nearly bloodless revenge story, where the cast, once bound to their duty, suddenly masters guerrilla tactics and effortlessly dismantles Air Force One’s weapons systems. There’s nothing inherently wrong with a story that hurtles into the muck, as long as it’s funny. Paradise, however, opts for nonsense while maintaining seriousness. In retrospect, the cracks in the narrative appeared early, but there was always another twist or a melancholy cover of a classic pop song to put on just enough emotional plaster to keep the story from falling apart entirely.
Paradise sets up to make a blunt commentary on class, power, and oligarchy, but it avoids choosing anything other than a vague direction to point the finger. Instead, the villains are presented as misunderstood elites who had to make impossible choices during difficult times.
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