The White-Power Fantasy of Reacher

by

Originally, this piece came out on the 28th of May, 2024. The third season of Reacher debuted on the 20th of February, 2025.

On a cool April day, my mother traveled up from sunny south Florida to Chicago, and it was up to me to choose a suitable wallpaper-TV setup for her unique preferences. My Creole mom, fiercely rooted in the South, may not represent the typical palate that critics might consider when gauging mainstream American taste, but she has always served as a reliable gauge for me, especially for those who watch movies not as cinephiles, but simply for enjoyment. I would describe her tastes as quintessential American normcore.

I deliberated over true crime and romantic dramas that might appeal to her, before considering the popular streaming series Reacher, which had just wrapped up its second season. I’d been hearing a lot of praise for the show on social media – about its entertaining fun factor and the attractiveness of the lead character.

The Wallpaper TV genre is characterized by its casual accessibility and minimal demand for focus, offering entertainment that can be enjoyed in the background or while multitasking. Shows in this category often have simplistic narratives, characters, and visuals, which may border on monotony at times. I had anticipated that Reacher would fit this description perfectly – a mildly engaging series catering to general television tastes and featuring a rugged male lead who is visually appealing. However, I soon discovered that Reacher was more intricate than expected, presenting a stark, almost unsettling portrayal of a white-dominated society that struggles under the weight of its conservative values. This isn’t just ordinary wallpaper TV; it’s an eerie depiction of Hollywood’s resurgence in promoting whiteness after years of claiming interest in diversity, particularly Blackness.

In other words, watching Reacher is not a relaxing experience; instead, it feels like witnessing the disconcerting recurrence of the declining American empire on repeat.

The TV series “Reacher,” derived from Lee Child’s novels and produced by Nick Santora, demonstrates television’s unique ability to captivate while subtly conveying intricate messaging. I had limited knowledge of this literary saga, primarily influenced by the mediocre Tom Cruise films. However, the “Reacher” adaptation is a distinct entity. To use an apt metaphor, it’s indeed a beast – with Alan Ritchson portraying a Dodge Charger that has taken human form.

When Jack Reacher (he prefers not to be called by his first name) enters the fictional town of Margrave, Georgia, the series portrays his masculinity as both overwhelmingly powerful and inherently good-natured, a force to be reckoned with yet one to be revered. In the opening episode, Reacher silently intervenes in a domestic abuse situation on his way into a diner, only to find himself wrongfully accused of a murder he didn’t commit. Despite being arrested and handcuffed, he asserts his innocence, refusing to cooperate until he’s released. He effortlessly breaks free from the zip ties when no one produces a box cutter. Picking up the fallen plastic, he casually asks about recycling, maintaining a knowing smirk throughout.

In essence, “Reacher” showcases how societal norms bend to accommodate a tall white man’s wishes.

It’s not surprising that such a character – standing at six-feet-three, possessing a ruggedly handsome look reminiscent of Chris Hemsworth – lives an off-grid lifestyle, his wealth undefined yet sufficient to keep him nomadic and available to help those he chooses. He straddles the line between authority (having served as a U.S. Army Military Police major) and lawlessness (acting independently in enforcing justice), recognizing systemic corruption but maintaining faith in its potential for reform, viewing its issues as stemming from isolated cases of wrongdoing rather than systemic decay. He quickly assesses people with ease, yet it’s just as effortless for him to resort to violence, such as delivering a lethal blow or shooting someone at close range without batting an eye. I lost track of the number of times Reacher, in his first season, kills someone or arrives on a crime scene without any official authorization. He embodies the flawed, traditional view that the best way to counteract a dangerous individual is with a more powerful one. He serves as judge, jury, and executioner for the series, and viewers admire him for it.

As the central murder enigma intensifies, Jack Reacher forms a lukewarm romantic connection with Roscoe Conklin, a detective from Margrave, and grapples with haunting recollections of his deceased mother. A shocking revelation arises that even leaves Reacher astonished: it was his brother, Joe, a former Secret Service agent on a quest for truth in Margrave, who was slain in the initial episode. His demise serves as the foundation connecting all the other killings Reacher subsequently encounters. However, Reacher’s most significant bond is with Oscar Finlay, the Black police chief from the north. As the series unfolds, Reacher comes to appreciate Finlay as instrumental in unraveling the conspiracies surrounding his brother’s death and essential for asserting Reacher’s dominance in the regions he traverses. Reacher frequently refers to Finlay’s fondness for tweed, describing him as a Black Sherlock Holmes, and recounts how Finlay’s subordinates refer to him as a “Beantown Bitch.” The undercurrent of racism that Finlay would undoubtedly experience in a small, rural Georgia town controlled by ruthless capitalist forces is subtly portrayed through the use of language; although the word “uppity” is never explicitly spoken, it feels as if it hangs on the edge of Reacher’s tongue. (A Harvard-educated African American, seemingly out of his depth, struggling to find his place within the hierarchy of white society, needing the help of a genuine American? This could be seen as a subtle rejection of the Obama era?) The show tackles racism by not overtly addressing it; instead, it is implied that Finlay simply does not encounter it.

The unique aspect of the show’s structure lies in how it is Reacher who boldly confronts the town’s biases; the crowd recoils when he walks through town, their expressions filled with alarm. In truth, mainstream America adores a tall white man who takes command and defies authority. However, Reacher thrives on conflict. Finlay and Reacher serve as an intriguing contrast, embodying opposing ideological and aesthetic forces.

The former, Finlay, is calm, charismatic, and impeccably dressed in suits – the attire of the elite. On the other hand, Reacher is casual, donning jeans and T-shirts that mirror the common folk. Finlay questions Reacher’s confidence in his theories rather than genuinely asking, to which Reacher promptly replies. “Are you as confident in your theories as I am that you attended Harvard, went through a divorce, and quit smoking within the past six months?” (For the record, Finlay’s wife is deceased.) As Reacher continues to share facts he has discovered about Finlay, he gradually moves closer to him. Eventually, they stand off against each other in the parking lot of the Margrave police station. Throughout the series, Reacher towers over Finlay in scene after scene, with the camera emphasizing his physical stature and symbolically positioning Finlay beneath him.

It’s not surprising that Reacher has garnered a strong following from conservative groups, given the character’s appeal as a symbol of a specific kind of white male ideal.

It’s also unsurprising that the National Fraternal Order of Police would react strongly on social media when 41-year-old Ritchson, who played Reacher, was interviewed by The Hollywood Reporter. In the interview, Ritchson spoke candidly about his personal struggles, including suicidality, bipolar disorder, and his faith as a Christian. He also expressed his political beliefs bluntly: “Trump is a rapist and a con man, and yet the entire Christian church seems to treat him like he’s their poster child, and it’s unreal.”

In response to criticism over a 2020 Instagram post where he wore a shirt that read “Arrest the Cops Who Killed Breonna Taylor,” the 26-year-old Black actor Ritchson explained, “Cops get away with murder all the time, and the fact that we can’t really hold them accountable for their misconduct is troubling to me. We need to completely overhaul the system. I mean, you shouldn’t have to spend more time getting an education as a hairstylist than as a cop who’s armed with a deadly weapon.

Following the 9/11 events, media underwent a transformation. The image of Blackness shifted from symbolizing countercultural rebellion to representing authority figures during an era promoting unity. This transformation saw Black people, particularly Black men, assuming roles as police officers, lawyers, judges, and government employees in shows like “The Wire” and beyond. These portrayals granted diversity credits while reinforcing faith in systems that often limit the potential of Black lives. Characters like Finlay exemplify this trend, serving as a Black face and implicit endorsement for white institutions prone to exploiting Black death. In his role as a detective, he presents a Black visage and tacit approval to a predominantly white institution. As an anxious individual, he serves to highlight Reacher’s competence. When Finlay is largely absent in season two, the series loses momentum because without him as a contrast or embodiment of the ‘other’, Reacher lacks a character against which to define himself. White identity is often defined in opposition to the other.

The second season predominantly features Reacher interacting with new characters, including members of his old Army investigation team who are being mysteriously murdered. Characters from the Latino and Black group appear mostly in flashbacks, leaving Reacher’s relationships with them unclear. The show seems to depict Reacher as a man who can operate effectively in any environment. Unlike the first season, this one avoids overt racism but still leans into a subtle, diffused form of it. However, it’s important to note that while Black and brown characters may not have a prominent role, the show remains a prime example of white-centric television that masquerades as light entertainment while promoting harmful ideologies about power and America. In fact, my mother found it to be quite enjoyable because it aims to appear that way. Despite its seemingly harmless nature, its toxic beliefs are just as insidious as an expensive whiskey’s smoothness. It seems that even though Hollywood may no longer find Blackness cool, whiteness still finds value in it.

Read More

2025-02-20 21:58