There’s a moment in Furious where you actually see outwardly manifested and expressed rage. That’s when FBI agent Alice (Emmy Rossum) discovers she needs to work with her former NYPD colleague and ex-boyfriend, Marshall (Jake Lacy), to solve a homicide—the same ex-boyfriend because of whom she once ended up in hospital, the one who left her with a permanent fear of showers. Alice shuts herself in a bathroom stall at work and lets out a muffled scream that dies as soon as it’s out. It makes you think she’s who the show’s title fits more aptly, not the petite smiling avenger out murdering rich guys with syringes filled with drugs.
Furious, though, is about both of them. It’s also about Nora (Quincy Tyler Bernstine), the basement-office-dwelling, vodka swigging, jaded head of the sex-crimes division of the FBI, whom Alice convinces to partner with her to investigate a string of drug overdoses that are, in fact—naturally—homicides. Lola Petticrew stars as the anachronistically named, sequin-and-sticker-loving Catherine, who we know from the first scene as the killer. Catherine is out for revenge on the powerful men who abused her when she was a teenager and are likely behind the death of her best friend. Alice is in hot pursuit, working with Nora and also her former partner from the NYPD, Danny (Scoot McNairy), the only character in the whole series you root for even if you don’t know to what end.
The series, now streaming on JioHotstar, is from Elizabeth Meriwether, whom we best know as the creator of female-led shows like New Girl and, more recently, Dying for Sex. Furious reminds you of shows and tropes you’ve already seen on TV. The cat-and-mouse game of the determined law enforcement agent and cheery couture-loving assassin of Killing Eve. The two earnest cops of the Toni Collette and Merritt Wever starrer Unbelievable. The tortured cop of Mare of Easttown. The calculating protagonist of Promising Young Woman…
But what Furious does differently is challenge the righteousness of the victim of a crime meting out their own justice. There’s a particular scene where Nora, aware of Alice’s own history as a survivor of domestic abuse, talks to her about the myth of Medusa. “The victims of violence are more violent,” she shrewdly observes, side-eyeing Alice. You don’t always welcome this take on things, but the premise sticks in the context of this show and its characters.
Alice has turned the violence in her own past into something she now seeks to get on top of with her sex life; Catherine oscillates between cold killer and tender caregiver, shrewd manipulator and woman stuck in girlhood; and Nora wants to set the world on fire. They’re all furious. Deservedly. The charming violent man gets his own spotlight. One of the most jarring moments happens when Marshall gently approaches her in an office corridor and asks, “Are you okay?”
The tropes aren’t all fresh, but the performances make Furious rise above the ordinary; we hope to see Emmy Rossum and Quincy Tyler Bernstine at the Emmys. Often, you find yourself sympathetic about—even if not supportive of—terrible people. (We’re talking about the women; all the men here, barring Danny, are awful.) And that’s the Jedi mind trick Furious keeps playing.
Furious is currently streaming on JioHotstar
