For all their vaunted power, superheroes are at the mercy of the people who write them, draw them, play them on the screen, and by extension the producers and executives who decide what should go where and for how much. Sort of powerless, really.
Sometimes this combination of forces works out well for the hero, and sometimes not so much. The Green Lantern, a secondary figure in the DC Comics pantheon, had the ill luck to be trapped in a 2011 Ryan Reynolds film even its director didn’t like. Fifteen years later, he has had the very good fortune to be played by Kyle Chandler, and additionally to star in a television series — “Lanterns,” premiering Sunday on HBO — rather than a theatrical feature, with its investment in noisy set pieces and earth-shaking battles royale.
I’ve often championed the supposedly humbler medium as the best place to tell these stories, with the time to investigate character, in all its shadings and ambiguities, and a haven for concepts too quirky or niche or … conceptual for conservative big-budget theatrical IP exploitation. And here again, I have been proved right.
Creators Damon Lindelof (“Lost,” “Watchmen” and, best of all, “Mrs. Davis”), comic book writer Tom King and Chris Mundy, who wrote for “Criminal Minds,” “Ozark” and “Bloodline” (in which Chandler starred), have expressly looked to television for inspiration — specifically to “True Detective” (on which Mundy worked), with its uncomfortable partnerships, and “Slow Horses” (for its disreputable hero, I guess), with “Slow Horses” director James Hawes helming the first two episodes. (I detect a hint of “Fargo” as well, for its Midwestern plainscape, dark comedy and bigger-than-life yet somehow ordinary characters.)
“I’m a regular person, like you,” Hal Jordan (Chandler) says in a 1996 TV interview that opens the series; indeed, he’s only super powerful by reason of the gear that comes with the job, a human “beat cop” working as part of the Green Lantern Corps, an extraterrestrial galactic peacekeeping organization — the special ring and the lantern-shaped gizmo that charges it. It gives him the ability to fly and to manifest objects at will, most often a protective green bubble, but also a bottle opener and a $10 bill. (There’s a uniform, but for the most part, he leaves it in the closet.)
Watching that interview is young John Stewart (then a Lantern-obsessed child). We’ll meet him again in 2016, played by Aaron Pierre (“The Underground Railroad”), when most of the action takes place, as a former Marine sniper and art student — human talents that will prove useful — assigned to Hal as a “trainee,” ostensibly to provide backup if something happens to him. Hal, after two seemingly successful decades in the job, is unused to the company and suspicious of the arrangement. (“The big blue bosses may think you’re hot s— but you’re just a f—ing substitute teacher.”) He sets John tests that might kill him, if he is not actually trying to kill him. But he’s also the more genial of the two.
Through an agent whose identity the producers are counting as a spoiler — I’m sure I don’t know why — Hal receives a message that there’s hail in Rushville, Neb. (i.e., aliens!), at which point he jets off from the taco stand where he’s happily been signing autographs and posing for selfies, leaving John to fly there on his own, in the usual way, while the Stooges’ “No Fun” plays on the soundtrack.
They arrive, separately, in the aftermath of a high school football game that has left dead bodies on the field. (Hal suspects some sort of alien rumble.) Here we meet Kelly Macdonald, suppressing her Scottish accent as tough but tender Sheriff Kerry, asserting her jurisdictional rights. Hal finds her “something incredible.” (John: “I think she hates your guts.” Hal: “Yeah, but it’s the way she hates them.”) Kerry is married to lawyer Billy Macon (Jason Ritter), whose father, William (Garret Dillahunt), is a local bigwig, with a cowboy militia and a wife, Zoe (Poorna Jagannathan), who possibly not coincidentally meets John in a bar.
At 60, Chandler is arguably more attractive than ever, with the sort of seasoning that served James Garner so well as Jim Rockford, TV’s greatest detective. Five seasons of “Friday Night Lights” have cemented him in the popular consciousness as a preternaturally decent guy, which allows us to excuse Hal’s less creditable moments, or at least to see things through his eyes. Pierre, 32, who competes in Brazilian jiu-jitsu, has the body of a superhero; he plays John wound tight, humorless, grimly ambitious — he grew up letting his father shoot apples off his head to prove his fearlessness, the primary requirement for a Green Lantern — though the character warms up across the course of the season (which also takes place in 2026). The actors are at their best in their scenes together, which the writers make happen even when it seems impossible. (Spoilers, or I’d explain.)
Combining detective work and science fiction is nothing new — see “Sugar,” currently; “The X-Files,” classically. (And there’s an interrogation scene I’m pretty sure nods knowingly to “Blade Runner.”) “Lanterns” isn’t totally free of cliches, which is practically impossible for sci-fi and crime stories anyway, so many have been told over the years, and to some degree that’s just what we come for. But the series is fresh enough in its details and execution, and strong enough in its writing, and so well performed, that it feels quite original.
I watched “Lanterns” without any particular knowledge of the character, who has been around since 1940, and in this particular version since 1959. (I did a little reading afterward.) Happily, the show is not up to its cowl in DC cross-references and crossovers. There are fleeting mentions of Gotham and Metropolis (where Superman works) and Nathan Fillion reprises his bad-hair Green Lantern from the 2025 “Superman” movie (a long story), but “Lanterns” comes equipped with everything you need to know. Bringing in extra mythology wouldn’t make the confusing parts any less confusing, and would just confuse the parts that aren’t confusing at all. Most every character, whichever side they’re on — and it’s not always easy to tell, given that the aliens look exactly like the humans — comes with layers.
Did I ever fully understand what these factions were after, or even what exactly the factions were? Nope. Did it matter? Nope.
