‘Purge’ series more dystopian drama than horror show
“The Purge” has established itself over four films as more than a horror franchise; its sociopolitical commentary has surpassed its bloody thrills in importance. The gore and roving gangs of costumed killers (a la “The Warriors”) are still always present, but one can only place bets so many times on who in a set of characters will survive a government-sanctioned, all-night, murder free-for-all.
The question is, how would its horror-action-dystopian drama (and occasional satire) translate to the long-form storytelling of television? The answer, three installments into a 10-episode miniseries, is “pretty well.”
In USA Network’s “The Purge,” the United States is ruled by the New Founding Fathers of America, or NFFA, a totalitarian regime. Things aren’t that different, except that one night a year, all crime is legal, including homicide. The public rationale is that an annual “purge” is good for the country’s mental health, but the private motivation is more Machiavellian: The poor are disproportionately affected by the Purge, which is convenient for the wealthy, who would rather not care for them.
The show follows four story lines. Returning Marine Miguel (Gabriel Chavarria) is desperate to find his traumatized sister Penelope ( Jessica
Garza), who has fallen in with a suicidal Purge cult.
Upwardly mobile couple Jenna (Hannah Emily Anderson) and Rick (Colin Woodell) have souls but must make a deal with the devil (NFFA member Albert Stanton, played by Reed Diamond) at his opulent party to forward their socially conscious project; wild-card Lila (Lili Simmons), from their past, may throw a wrench in the works.
Respected professional Jane (Amanda Warren) leads her co-workers through highstakes dealmaking, while secretly executing a plan of her own, as internal tensions threaten her team.
Meanwhile, a mysterious, well-equipped person ventures out on a Purge-night mission.
The show is full of bloody violence, but the “startle” rhythms are too predictable to shock. The carnage is more effective in occasional moments of creepy absurdity, as when Jane passes a maskwearing, machete-sharpening fellow who cheerily assures, “Don’t worry; it’s not for you.” Apart from one other fun reveal in that story, though, it unfortunately drags so far.
The party plotline likewise takes time to gain steam but is sprinkled with tasty garnishes, such as tuxedoed-andgowned revelers celebrating the forward social thinking of serial killers such as David Berkowitz (Son of Sam). Diamond enjoyably embodies the NFFA’s villainy, quipping he gives to the poor “once a year — April 15. I’m just kidding. I don’t pay taxes.”
The first three episodes are most engaging when following Miguel’s frantic run through the citywide gantlet because of the action elements and Chavarria and Garza’s appealing performances.
The franchise’s political messaging is wicked and relevant without feeling heavyhanded. The secret intent of the actual Purge, as revealed in the films, is the weaponizing of the non-rich against each other as the elite remain untouchable spectators. ProPurge rhetoric such as “the great liquidator of our time” and “We made this country great” set the context.
More subtly, the show draws a connection between the self-sacrificing cult members and dystopia, realizing authoritarianism requires willing followers to function. Meanwhile, a member of the press witnessing the countrywide nightmare laments, “It doesn’t matter what people see; it only gets worse.”
The series isn’t exactly a thrill ride, at least so far, and isn’t likely to scare many viewers. Instead, it settles into a creepy, occasionally absurdly funny dystopian drama with some chase scenes and twists, which is a pretty smart way for the franchise to evolve.