‘Dope Thief’ Review: Brian Tyree Henry and Wagner Moura Make a Compelling Duo, but Apple TV+ Crime Thriller Loses Steam

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Initially, Apple TV+’s portrayal of Dennis Tafoya’s “Dope Thief” falls into a crime fiction subcategory I adore: Long-standing companions, united by past turmoil, resort to minor crimes for survival, but eventually find themselves entangled in something far larger and hazardous than they ever anticipated.

While not quite a typical buddy comedy, Dope Thief is undeniably a darkly humorous thriller driven by financial struggle. The film sets off on a compelling and promising trajectory from the beginning.

Stars Brian Tyree Henry and Wagner Moura display a swift and explosive camaraderie, born from enduring countless shadows side by side, which allows them to love and despise each other simultaneously. The series creator, Peter Craig, skillfully captures the raw, profanity-laced dialect of this environment. In the pilot episode, Ridley Scott expertly roots the narrative in the rough, concrete jungle of its Philadelphia and surrounding areas.

In the series “Dope Thief,” the plot initially unfolds gradually, eventually growing more complex. As events become increasingly intricate, the storytelling style becomes less focused. While it’s not uncommon for a story to grow darker and grimmer as it progresses, this can be effective. However, by separating its two primary characters for much of the second half, “Dope Thief” seems to lose its emotional core and central focus. The peripheral elements driving the plot forward become less captivating over the course of eight episodes.

But back to the beginning.

Ray (Henry) and Manny (Moura) are involved in a profitable operation. They carry fake DEA badges and vests, executing carefully planned raids on small drug dens, acquiring cash. They refer to their actions as a “karma tax” that the dealers pay for ruining neighborhoods, and occasionally compare themselves to Robin Hood, although it’s somewhat debatable since they don’t use the money to help the needy.

Ray and Manny, who possess criminal pasts and struggle with addiction, find themselves in financially challenging circumstances. Manny is cautiously embarking on life with his girlfriend Sherry (Liz Caribel). As for Ray, he resides with Theresa (Kate Mulgrew), an individual who wasn’t biologically his mother but provided support following the imprisonment of his abusive father (Ving Rhames’ character Bart) for unspecified crimes and a lengthy sentence.

The show commences in February 2021, following the January 6 insurrection and amidst ongoing pandemic restrictions, where job prospects for individuals with similar skills are scarce.

Manny argues that what they’re engaged in is merely a secondary job, but Ray counters by saying, “Sure, unless it’s the sole means by which you earn your living, it’s not really a side hustle.

Welcome, then, to the gig economy.

As I’m gaming away, my old cellmate, Ricky (ex-con Spenser Granese), drops me a line about an upcoming job. He’s tipped me off to a peaceful-looking meth lab out in the sticks. It looks like a sweet gig with big rewards for minimal risk.

It turns out that the risk wasn’t as minimal as they thought. Tragically, lives have been claimed, and despite Ray and Manny amassing a substantial amount of money, they are swiftly chased by real DEA agents, namely Amir Arison’s Nader and Will Pullen’s Marchetti. Additionally, a ruthless biker gang, hired by an enigmatic individual who communicates solely via phone calls and seems to possess a voice reminiscent of Richard Nixon with a Boston accent, is hot on their trail. This character appears determined to obliterate these seemingly trivial con artists from the scene altogether.

Scott, known for his productivity as a TV producer rather than a director of individual episodes, offers a tantalizing sneak peek at the pilot. It’s not like it’s an unprecedented masterpiece that outshines all others, but with Ridley Scott behind the camera and Erik Messerschmidt handling cinematography, the first hour exudes a distinctive style and detail that subsequent episodes, directed by Jonathan van Tulleken and Marcela Said, struggle to match. This isn’t the same as “not being able to match,” but if a pilot sets the tone or blueprint, this one is only roughly followed. Had I not been impressed by the pilot, perhaps I wouldn’t have felt let down by Dope Thief, but it was my preferred episode, with no other standing out as a close second.

At times, “Dope Thief” seems akin to a companion piece to Andrew Dominik’s “Killing Them Softly”, a 2012 crime thriller initially perceived as a flop but now recognized as a harsh commentary on the unease sparked by the 2008 financial crisis. In this context, COVID-related worries are not about health concerns but rather the economic aftershocks. The disastrous heist attempt by Ray and Manny is driven by the disruptions in supply chains that affected both legal and illegal enterprises. The tension and confinement felt post-pandemic serve as triggers for a story where characters, cornered for so long, are willing to act irrationally and out of character to find an escape.

As a gamer, I found myself drowning in a concoction that was dense yet watered down, leaving me yearning for more depth. Layers upon layers of intrigue were piled on, along with unnecessary subplots linked to the Pennsylvania Dutch, which ultimately left me feeling disengaged from Ray and Manny’s adventure. To make matters worse, the introduction and eventual handling of a major antagonist felt anticlimactic and almost forgettable.

It wouldn’t be too detrimental to avoid providing detailed characterizations for the institutional figures in the show, such as DEA agents and other law enforcement personnel, except when they dominate the screen at certain points. Unfortunately, the characters Arison’s Mark and Pullen’s Marchetti are barely fleshed out; all I can say about them is that one regularly visits the gym and the other seems unaware of cultural nuances. However, Mina, portrayed by Marin Ireland, stands out as a unique exception. She experiences a near-death experience early in the series, which leaves her speaking softly and agitated throughout, providing Ireland with an opportunity to showcase her character’s intense determination (and dry wit) that adds much-needed depth to the overall series.

It seems there’s an excessive amount of time being invested in individuals who undeniably don’t belong to the main narrative. The story revolves around Henry and Moura, engaging in witty exchanges, squabbles, and observing events unravel chaotically.

As a gamer, I can’t help but feel the weight of past mistakes that still haunt me, and the character Ray, played brilliantly by Henry Thomas, mirrors this struggle. He carries the show with an impressive solo act or in harmony with a worthy partner, Henry truly shines. Moura, filled with apprehension and optimism that seems destined to crumble, delivers an outstanding performance, but when characters diverge, Manny’s presence becomes scarce. This leaves Henry sharing scenes with characters who are skillfully portrayed but lack depth (Mulgrew offers a loving, determined Theresa); intriguing but underdeveloped (there’s potential for a whole show around Dustin Nguyen’s Son Pham); underdeveloped altogether (Nesta Cooper’s Michelle, a lawyer/questionable love interest); or underused (Rhames is fantastic whenever he appears, which unfortunately isn’t as frequently as I’d like).

Regardless of the lack of support from those around him in his scenes or the challenging situations he finds himself in, Henry consistently delivers an exceptional performance. This portrayal showcases the humor he exhibited in Atlanta, the heartbreak he evoked in Causeway, and the cool yet fierce demeanor he’s demonstrated across various other projects. The Dope Thief film has a side that I found to be engaging, unpredictable, and filled with pulp, as well as another side that seemed unfocused, gloomy, and repetitive. However, Henry shines throughout the entire production.

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2025-03-13 22:25