Duster Spins Its Wheels

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According to Jesse Gemstone’s timeless quote, there are moments when you simply desire to play “fun car tricks” with your companions. That’s the idea we were given with Duster, a crime series set in the ’70s, co-created by LaToya Morgan and J.J. Abrams, featuring Josh Holloway from Lost, and named after Holloway’s character’s powerful car. Regrettably, that’s not exactly what Duster, a series whose storyline ambition outpaces its narrative ability, provides.

As a film enthusiast, I’ve found myself in a peculiar predicament while watching the first season of Duster, premiering tonight on HBO Max and airing weekly thereafter. The series boasts numerous high-speed chases and the lead character, Holloway’s Vietnam vet-turned-mobster, frequently smirks and leans against his gleaming ruby-red Plymouth. However, watching Duster is akin to following incorrect GPS directions, making multiple U-turns, getting lost again, and driving in circles.

The show embraces the vintage aesthetics of ’70s series like Charlie’s Angels and Starsky and Hutch, but it’s not content with merely being a retro imitation. It aspires to be more – more enigmatic, more intricate, more feminist, more inclusive – and these aspirations push the series further away from any brainless entertainment value it might have had initially. The tension between these elements gives Duster an unsettling feeling of being a prolonged prequel to the story that Morgan and Abrams intend to unfold in a potential second season, rather than a collection of episodes that can stand alone. If there’s ever been a series that requires a binge-watch for maintaining viewer interest, it’s this one. And if there’s ever been a series that could do without an overarching conspiracy, it’s also this one.

In the 1970s, during President Richard Nixon’s second term and following the death of long-term FBI director J. Edgar Hoover, FBI agent Nina Hayes, portrayed by Rachel Hilson, enters Phoenix with a particular target in mind. For reasons that become clear, she harbors a grudge against organized crime boss Ezra Saxton, whom she suspects is involved in something larger than his usual gun-running and racketeering activities. To infiltrate his organization, Nina needs a confidential informant, and she manages to recruit his driver Jim Ellis by suggesting that Ezra was behind the assassination of his brother, Joey, who also worked for the family. Nina’s task is twofold: to earn Jim’s trust so he can provide valuable information about Ezra, and to win over her FBI colleagues who view her as an anomaly or annoyance. (Greg Grunberg reappears in this series as one of those skeptical FBI agents.)

In the show “Duster”, the characterization of Nina is relatively simple, whereas Jim’s is complex, yet his portrayal by actor Holloway faces a challenge because he’s playing a role that is meant to be in his 30s but Holloway is 55. This doesn’t mean Holloway’s grooming routine or on-screen charm aren’t impressive, but the character of Jim isn’t convincingly portrayed as a man past his prime, questioning his life choices like Cliff Booth, which would make his relationships, including with Nina and his pursuit of relevance through CI work, more relatable. Instead, Jim is depicted as a womanizer unaffected by his Vietnam War experiences, seeking more responsibility from Ezra, trying to connect with his daughter, having conflicts with his father’s new wife, and grieving Joey – all at once. The show keeps adding layers to Jim’s character but gives Holloway little time for reflection as it focuses increasingly on a convoluted plot where Jim and Nina become secondary characters. Moreover, the action sequences expected from this genre are missing, making Jim appear less badass to anchor the sprawling narrative. “Duster” primarily offers slow-motion scenes of characters in period clothing, contemporary music, or references to films like “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” and “The Godfather”, but these homages seem to be the extent of the series’s stylistic efforts.

Although Morgan’s role as co-creator and her writing credit for four episodes might suggest otherwise, the show Duster essentially presents itself as an effort to recapture the enchantment of J.J. Abrams’ early television works: the action-packed women characters from Alias, the intricate puzzle-pieces of Lost, and the endearing coming-of-age narrative of Felicity. However, the show falls short in replicating those series’ slow-burning storylines within just eight episodes, and its action fails to draw viewers into a satisfying escapism. As characters like a famous American eccentric appear as family friends of Jim’s, and the final scene hints at another villain, you may find yourself questioning why the show seemed so focused on setting up potential renewal that it neglected to establish itself independently. In essence, the only real trick Duster manages to pull off is spinning its wheels.

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2025-05-15 21:56