‘Lady in the Lake’ Review: Natalie Portman’s Apple TV+ Mystery Has a Lot on Its Mind, for Better and Worse

As a longtime fan of Natalie Portman’s acting abilities, I was excited to dive into “Lady in the Lake,” a complex and dreamlike series that showcases her range as an artist. However, I have to admit that my experience watching it left me feeling somewhat ambivalent.

More recent Apple TV+ historical dramas grapple with the challenge of determining “Whose story gets told?” This issue arises from recognizing potential pitfalls of one-sided portrayals of history, but without a definitive solution on hand.

In simpler terms, “Masters of the Air” diminished the significance of the Tuskegee Airmen in their episode about the 100th Bomb Group, failing to add value to both stories. “Lessons in Chemistry” attempted to introduce a civil rights-themed subplot not present in the original material, which felt contrived although Aja Naomi King’s performance earned an Emmy nomination. “The Big Cigar” struggled to decide whether it was a show about Huey P. Newton and the Black Panther Party or Hollywood producers, ultimately failing to deliver a compelling narrative for either storyline.

In Apple TV+’s new seven-part limited series “Lady in the Lake,” written by Alma Har’el based on Laura Lippman’s novel, the unspoken meanings become explicit. The story revolves around a woman who sets out to retell her own story, but unfortunately disregards the stories of those around her in her single-minded pursuit. This once admirable effort transforms into self-centered behavior, overlooking or even steamrolling others’ narratives.

Har’el, the showrunner and director of every episode with significant writing contributions, creates a complex depiction of the hidden challenges of self-discovery in “Lady in the Lake.” While skillfully exploring the deeper themes from Lippman’s novel, there are aspects where the series stumbles. Specifically, determining whose story the show is trying to tell causes some confusion and detracts from the original narrative’s forward progression. Although this is an intriguing adaptation with thought-provoking twists, it often fails to deliver a consistently engaging experience.

In 1966 Baltimore, I found myself stepping into the shoes of Maddie Schwartz, a Jewish housewife who felt trapped in her comfortable suburban life. Living with a husband portrayed by Brett Gelman and our son, Noah Jupe’s Seth, I yearned for something more. Although society might have believed that a woman married to a man like Brett was content, I couldn’t deny the emptiness inside me.

Maddie, with no job or clear direction for her future, becomes deeply drawn to the case of a missing Jewish girl in Baltimore. After discovering the girl’s body with her friend Judith (portrayed by Mikey Madison), Maddie uses this experience to pursue her long-suppressed dream of journalism. She manages to secure a position writing for the “Baltimore Star”.

When Cleo Johnson’s (Moses Ingram) corpse is found in a fountain, Maddie becomes determined to solve the mystery, despite opposition from her skeptical editors, a Black cop she’s secretly dating (Y’lan Noel as Ferdie Platt), and even Cleo herself, who sarcastically comments from beyond the grave.

In Lippman’s novel “Lady in the Lake,” I can clearly distinguish between different perspectives because she writes the story from Maddie’s point of view as well as from those of people Maddie encounters. These individuals have personal experiences that Maddie finds hard to understand on her own. Maddie isn’t the antagonist in this book, but she believes herself to be the protagonist despite the truth being otherwise.

While Cleo contributes a large part of the narrative in the original version, she expresses frustration over having her tale taken by an empathetically questionable person. Har’el changed this setup to enhance Cleo’s presence – not quite reaching equal parts with Portman but coming close.

In several aspects, making Ingram a more significant character is beneficial. It allows us to delve deeper into Baltimore’s numbers runner, club owner, and political fixer Shell Gordon (Wood Harris), his questionable right-hand man Reggie (Josiah Cross, who appeared in the mentioned episode of “Masters of the Air”), and Cleo’s unconventional comedian husband Slappy (Byron Bowers). Although the connection between them could be stronger, I enjoy how it expands the show’s narrative.

Har’el is able to delve deeper into the intricacies of the resemblances and distinctions between these two women, allowing for a more comprehensive investigation of the intertwined stigmas of being Black and Jewish in 1960s Maryland. This exploration also uncovers the complex layers of powerlessness and silence that come with being a woman during this time.

Maddie can pass; a running joke in the early episodes is that she doesn’t look Jewish. Cleo cannot pass, but she can become invisible — figuratively — which is more of a deadly drawback than a superpower. Who gets to pass? Who gets to assimilate? And what do you leave behind when you do? How long do you hold the trauma of your powerlessness — especially in the case of Maddie and her family, when a genocide is only one generation in your past?

As I delve deeper into this challenging narrative, Har’el manages to navigate through it with an uncanny mix of off-putting yet inspiring methods. The surrealistic elements in “Lady in the Lake” mirror the disconnected states of Maddie and Cleo from their surroundings. They’re tormented by nightmares and haunted by their past, with the boundary between memory and dream becoming increasingly blurred. This results in an intriguing late-season episode that feels akin to a modern dance performance set to an enchanting soundtrack – Marcus Norris’ music complemented by timeless tunes from Peggy Lee, Shirley Bassey, and Nina Simone. The fragmented quality of “Honey Boy” and the swirling disorientation of Har’el’s documentary “Bombay Beach” are both noticeable influences. All these elements come together to create a stunning portrayal of 1960s Baltimore, complete with exquisite costumes and production design.

As a gamer, I found Har’el’s attempts in this series quite intriguing, even if I wasn’t always certain of their effectiveness. With its bold exploration of themes like racism and antisemitism, intertwined with references to historical atrocities such as slavery and the Holocaust, “Lady in the Lake” is a show that leaves a strong impression. However, as the story progressed, I began to feel that the focus on these heavy topics obscured the core narrative, leaving me uncertain about whose story was actually being told.

As a gamer, I can tell you that in the story of “Lessons in Chemistry,” the protagonist, unlike me, doesn’t automatically become a journalism pro just by walking into a newsroom and speaking the truth. It’s not as simple as that. But it makes a difference if we view her dream as an unrealistic fantasy or a mere footnote in the plot.

I’ve always admired Portman’s acting skills, especially in her earlier roles like “Beautiful Girls,” “The Professional,” “Garden State,” and “Closer.” These films showcased her ability to embody femininity, often at the direction of male writers and directors. However, what really draws me in now are the more complex characters she’s been able to bring to life. Characters like the obsessive ballerina in “Black Swan,” the fragile celebrity in “Jackie,” and the theatrical performer in “May December.” Each role requires her to navigate artificial conceits that add depth and intrigue to her performances.

As a gamer, I can relate to the character’s struggle with identity. In this game, I play as a woman who has been masking her true self for decades. Now that I’ve decided to be “myself,” I’m unsure of who or what that even is. Just like my journalistic career doesn’t instantly gain credibility, my character Maddie doesn’t either.

Portman and Maddie seem uncomfortable among the more authentic portrayals of the other ensemble members. Notably, this appears to be deliberate. The audience is drawn to the quirks of Madison, the mysterious allure of Cross, Harris’ smooth demeanor, and Dylan Arnold’s unsettling performance as a pet store employee under suspicion for both murders.

Portman skillfully portrays the character’s contradictions and quirks instead of trying to resolve them. In the show’s thought-provoking way, she perfectly encapsulates these aspects. I would have preferred if the elements in “Lady in the Lake” were more harmoniously blended, allowing it to excel as a cohesive essay, a captivating tone poem, and an engaging thriller all at once. However, despite its uneven execution, I was impressed by its ambitious intentions.

2024-07-19 04:25

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