Dope Thief Pulls It Off

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Engaging with the skillfully penned and warmly enacted series titled “Dope Thief” feels akin to entering a time capsule, taking us back to the initial glory days of FX. The depiction of flawed men grappling with emotions – such an intriguing premise!

Approximately fifteen years ago, FX was renowned for gritty, raw shows like “The Shield,” “Sons of Anarchy,” “Justified,” and “Terriers.” These series offered a unique blend of personal and professional relationships, set against the backdrop of organized crime, drug wars, and land disputes. While other cable networks leaned towards glossy prestige TV, FX shows were typically grittier, more violent, and explicit in their portrayal of life’s harsh realities, particularly focusing on the struggles faced by the working class.

Interestingly, Apple TV+, which tends to favor big-budget sci-fi, masculine earnestness, and female-led prestige shows, has become home to “Dope Thief.” This is an unexpected choice but it’s appreciated! “Dope Thief,” premiering its first two episodes today, isn’t just a nod to this specific genre of aggressive programming. Instead, it breathes new life into the formula by featuring standout performances from Brian Tyree Henry and Wagner Moura that delve deep into male loneliness, only to lift us out with a heartwarming, tender friendship. This relationship is as comforting and nurturing as the show itself is dark and brutal.

Drawing inspiration from the work of Dennis Tafoya, known for his Philadelphia-based thrillers akin to Dennis Lehane’s Boston, S. A. Cosby’s Virginia, and Jordan Harper’s California, Dope Thief swiftly immerses us in its gritty North Philly backdrop. The pilot episode, overseen by executive producer Ridley Scott, establishes the series’ chilly, muted color scheme, employs black-and-white flashbacks, and presents a majority of the principal characters, including lifelong friends Ray (Henry) and Manny (Moura). For 14 months, they’ve been impersonating DEA agents to swindle small-time drug dealers, keeping the cash for themselves while selling the confiscated product through their superior, Son (Dustin Nguyen, an unexpected but fitting casting choice given his history with 21 Jump Street). The proximity to drugs poses a personal risk for both Ray and Manny; Ray’s father, Bart (Ving Rhames), was an addict who marred Ray’s youth with his substance abuse, while Manny struggles with heroin. Despite the inherent perils, the drug trade appears to be North Philly’s sole means of survival, and Dope Thief portrays this reality as casually as The Wire did. Once-thriving industrial towns are in decline, and this is their renewal—through others’ downfall. Do you have any alternative suggestions for this?

Everything appears to be smooth sailing for Ray and Manny until an ultimate job draws them in. Ray’s foster mother, Theresa (Kate Mulgrew), requires $10,000 for a secretive purpose she won’t disclose, and being raised by her after Bart went to prison, Ray will go to any lengths for her; Henry and Mulgrew display a strained affection towards each other. Manny aspires to propose to his girlfriend, Sherry (Liz Caribel Sierra), despite Ray’s distaste for her, yearning for the security of a settled-down life. This leads them into a meth lab in rural Pennsylvania, where their seemingly successful operation goes awry. Following a gunfight and an explosion, Ray and Manny are now wanted murderers with two relentless pursuers: DEA agent Mina (Marin Ireland), enraged and devastated over the pair’s sabotage of her undercover operation, and a sinister, Boston-accented antagonist who threatens everyone dear to Ray and Manny if they don’t return the $400,000 in cash and meth they took. As their friendship is put under pressure – by the authorities due to Mina, and racist biker gangs and cartel assassins because of the Voice – Dope Thief chronicles their tumultuous bond, which grows increasingly fragile as it becomes evident that they may have to betray each other to stay alive.

In simpler terms, “Dope Thief” follows a familiar genre pattern, but stands out due to its sharp, witty dialogues filled with cultural references and subtle character nuances. The protagonist, Ray, struggles with loyalty issues, the DEA’s self-interest, and his late girlfriend’s haunting presence in his mind. Characters like Relapse, Bart, and Son are intriguing, each with their unique roles – Relapse is tempting, Bart is intimidating, and Son remains a mystery. The series employs creative camera work, such as blurry, shaky footage during Ray’s drug-induced episodes, to heighten tension. While the action sequences are well-executed, it’s the dialogue that truly distinguishes “Dope Thief,” offering a delightful blend of real-life repulsion and on-screen entertainment for those who appreciate Guy Ritchie-esque elements.

The majority of these events are peripheral to the main storyline, yet they serve a crucial purpose in deepening the characters and their connections. For instance, Ray’s frustration over not recognizing a dead criminal’s ringtone tune, Bart’s confession about not eating fresh zucchini for ten years, and Son revealing his uncle’s death in Vietnam due to collaboration with the CIA, may seem unrelated, but they add emotional depth to the unfolding drama of this drug deal gone awry. A notable exchange between Theresa and Ray, where she criticizes him for not acting like Robin Hood by giving away his stolen money, and his response that “I give it to you, and yet you’re still very poor,” exemplifies the familiar tension between a mother and son who spend too much time together. Rhames delivers lines such as “Casual Friday” during their prison visit with a deadpan wit that suits Ray’s questioning. The series’ most insightful conversations often occur within Ray and Manny’s continuous arguments, whether they’re squabbling over who has cared for the other longer or deriding a group of white Pennsylvania Dutch farmers for labeling them, a Black man and a Brazilian immigrant, as “English.” Henry and Moura typically argue, but their antagonism is so finely balanced between exasperation and concern that it comes across as a form of affection.

In many series revolving around grand conspiracies, the pacing of “Dope Thief” becomes somewhat uneven as its eight episodes conclude. A few major plot twists seem unexpected and sudden, while Mina’s strategy for working with Ray and Manny grows complex and intricate. To be truthful, this just adds to the show’s likeness to an FX production; after all, aren’t the finales of shows like “Sons of Anarchy” filled with unexpected revelations that somehow manage to wrap up all the previous drama? However, the strength of the cast and their skill in navigating the series’ unique tension issues prevent these pacing problems from becoming overwhelming. As Ray poignantly states in one of the show’s standout hard-boiled lines, “I don’t know what’s worse, old wounds or new wounds,” encapsulating “Dope Thief”‘s main allure: its ability to make those old wounds feel fresh and relevant once more.

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2025-03-15 00:55