THE MADNESS – Limited Series (2024)

If you suddenly found yourself being hunted for a crime you didn’t commit, how would you escape the lies people spread about you? That’s the basic premise of Netflix’s latest conspiracy thriller, The Madness. This eight-episode limited series touches on racial prejudices and misinformation, but it steers clear of the murky waters of political drudgery. It’s part The Fugitive (1993) with the feel of a John le Carré spy thriller, borrowing a lot from Richard Wright’s 1945 novel The Man Who Lived Underground. And that seems like a useful recipe sampling the best of both worlds.

The show opens strong. We see a vast forest spaced by grey trees, where morning mist hangs low over the bark. Everything seems calm and peaceful, but as the camera pans to an injured man sprawled on the ground, we realise we have been deceived. Although he eventually limps to a nearby diner, where he spots a pair of police officers who can help him, he’s also weary that they might not want to. When he enters the diner, conversations die down and heads turn in their seats. He’s tall, of African descent, and is wearing clothes that look dirty and bloody rather than tattered. Because of the silence, one gets the impression that his presence is like a fly landing on a white cake.

Muncie Daniels (Colman Domingo) is a media pundit for CNN. He’s confident, successful, and unapologetic for his views. He reaps the rewards that come with having a high-paying news job. He lives in an upscale apartment, one with a window looking out onto an attractive view of the city. He also has a purple belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu and seems ready to face any challenges that come his way.

In the first episode, Muncie retreats to a rented cabin in the Poconos woods, which seems like a rejuvenating endeavour. At first, the quiet of the open space offers a rare chance for reflection—time to write his book, ponder life, maybe consider where things may have gone wrong as he feels a sense of detachment from his family.

However, returning from a jog one day, he encounters a black car approaching him on the dirt road. A man stares at him from the driver’s seat, wearing a smile that you can’t really decide is friendly or sinister. “You look familiar. You on TV?” the man asks. “Sometimes” Muncie replies. “Well, if you need anything, just knock. I’m pretty well stocked up, so…”

From this encounter, the viewer’s suspicions are already raised. “Could this man be dangerous?” we wonder. Later, once the power goes out in Muncie’s cabin, he decides to take his neighbour up on his friendly offer. But when he arrives at his neighbour’s cabin, the man is not at home. Shockingly, it turns out that the man is in the outdoor sauna—a wood-panelled room separated from the property—in pieces.

What follows is a conspiracy plot that tries to untangle the motives behind Muncie being framed for his neighbour’s murder, who’s soon revealed to be Mark Simon (Tahmoh Penikett), a key member of a white supremacy group called The Forge. Along the way to clearing his name, Muncie gets entangled in an ongoing FBI investigation, led by Agent Franco Quinones (John Ortiz). Mysterious non-state actors feeding the media misinformation make it clear that he’s just a wheel in the cog of a more complex machine.

Of course, we can expect the series to falter as it goes along, becoming rigid or delving into areas that don’t connect, like other contemporary thrillers (most of which ironically come out of Netflix). But surprisingly, this is not the case with The Madness. Audiences, especially those who take their conspiracy thrillers with their morning coffee, will be pleased to discover that the pacing is tense and consistent throughout, dropping clues that lead you deeper into the rabbit hole alongside Muncie, right up until the finale.

If everything that has been said so far sounds intriguing, it’s because it is. The production team seem more dedicated to delivering competent conspiracy thrillers with light brush strokes of social commentary without making it irksome or forced. They keep us on the track of the plot without sacrificing it for a one-dimensional discussion about racial politics.

As mentioned, the series occasionally seems to parallel Richard Wright’s novel The Man Who Lived Underground. The book may be an obvious influence on showrunners Stephen Belber and V.J Boyd, as the main characters share a surname and are both African American men being pursued by corrupted forces who want them down for murder. The dialogue is engaging although not as sharp when it veers off the tracks of Muncie’s investigation. The scenes when he talks to his wife Elena (Marsha Stephanie Blake) about their divorce and marriage can be useful for a discussion about how misinformation can alter perceptions of identity. However, used in a short-lived dramatic context, they do not offer that much in terms of conflict. We are more preoccupied with discovering who framed him for Mark’s murder and why. Nevertheless, pitting his family against him while trying to clear his name seems like an obvious missed opportunity.

Cinematographers Boris Mojsovski, Vinit Borrison, and Fraser Brown do an excellent job of choosing the shots throughout the series. The cities are often depicted in the dilapidated condition that Philadelphia is only too happy to offer, with strangers loitering around graffitied buildings. But the scenes in the forest seem to contrast a sense of quiet danger that balances well with Muncie’s hellish journey into paranoia and, aptly, madness. When he’s seen driving his slick black Range Rover through the Poconos in the first episode, playing loud rap music with the windows rolled down, it gives off the impression of two worlds colliding: the loudness of a modern Philadelphia and a Poconos countryside where any sound not made by man seems like an intrusion or threat.

This translates well when Muncie finds himself on the run from both the police and the villains who not only framed him for Mark Simon’s murder but also want him dead. Early in the season, Muncie tracks down Mark’s ex-wife, Lucie Simon (Tamsin Topolski), to a suburban home where it’s all white-picket fences and the same shade of garage. Here he’s understandably nervous, convinced that none of her neighbours can be trusted. This plot detail is essential to the development of story and character, as we are always paranoid to question every person in this murder mystery just like Muncie is. Will Lucie help him or will she turn out to share her ex-husband’s extreme beliefs?

Aside from a plot that drives steadily, acting is generally another positive. In his performance, Domingo brings out Muncie’s silent trepidation, understandable stubbornness, and occasional bursts of rage. The actor is capable of keeping his character’s emotions consistent, expressing constrained frustration and subtle paranoia. Conversely, Muncie is always willing to say what is on his mind even if it gets him into deeper trouble. This should reassure the casting directors that they made the right choice to have him lead. (And Domingo, it must be said, looks too slick in his big navy blue coat, the collars turned up sharply.)

Some will find fault not in the development and unfolding of the narrative, but more in the acting of the supporting cast and those characters who do not offer much dimensionality. Ortiz and Topolski are solid players, as they play well against Domingo, bringing out Muncie’s darker qualities. Alison Wright, who plays a creepy, near-robotic assassin named Julia Jayne, seems like a good fit as a key antagonist. While we know how violent she can be, we rarely know what her true motive is, yet we are convinced they are essential to discovering who framed Muncie and why. Alongside Bradley Whitford, who plays Stu Magnusson, a seemingly key player in the conspiracy, this pair are able to keep the mystery engaging despite their limited screen time. While Wright is more essential to the story, Whitford could have been utilised better given his acting pedigree. There are moments that create real tension when we do not know where his allegiances lie. When this is cut down early in the season, it can come across as a serious detriment.

Deon Cole, playing Muncie’s best friend Kwesi, offers some moments of comedic relief. Stephen McKinley Henderson, as Isaiah, balances these moments out with some scene stealing. However, like many of Muncie’s friends and family, it seems like they are all too content with believing that he’s innocent. Occasionally, it misses that depth of conflict which comes when the people you love do not know the real you above what they have heard.

Sadly, Marsha Stephanie Blake as Muncie’s wife Elena and Thaddeus J. Mixson as their son Demetrius offer little dimensionality to their characters in contrast. During the scenes when Demetrius glazes over while hearing of his father’s harrowing experience, some viewers may offer similar reactions. We wonder how this young man can be so ignorant and non-reactive to the gravity of the situation. Routinely seen smoking weed and playing video games, he encapsulates the stereotypical youth we read about on social media but grow tired of. Even if this is a message to the youths of our generation, it can still come across as less useful than if Demetrius were to stubbornly help his father when needed. Or maybe he could display vile horror that maybe Muncie did kill that man. The series is, after all, about misinformation. Otherwise, having him impartial seems like an overall detriment to the core themes and believable characterisation.

Nevertheless, Mixson’s time to shine comes in the final episode when Muncie and Demetrius argue over murdering someone for the sake of revenge. It’s a tense, tear-filled exchange that, on Mixson’s part, would have been more impactful if played by a more experienced actor. An Aaron Pierre, a Jharrel Jerome, or Ashton Sanders at the very least. Luckily, Domingo saves the scene, emphasising a father who is apologetic for his sins, guilty in one sense rather than another.

Conversely, it’s Kallie’s (Gabrielle Graham) role as Muncie’s first child—whom he abandoned when he was much younger—that makes the necessary impact upon the viewer. When he’s on the run and looking for shelter, he comes to Kallie for help. Here, Muncie transforms into a much more complex character than we originally thought. We get the sense that he has escaped the world of a highly prejudicial culture for the promise of a famed life, and Graham offers some good conflict to parallel with Muncie’s clear guilt over their shared past.

As Muncie questions his identity in a society that only perceives him as a guilty man, we can only be certain of the series’ core message: see the madness through to the end no matter what they tell you. And that’s probably enough to let The Madness entertain you.

USA | 2024 | 8 EPISODES | 2.35:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH

Cast & Crew

writers: Stephen Belber, V.J Boyd, Jeanine Daniels, Liz Ellis, Dana Kitchens, Obehi Janice, Felicia Hilario, Katie Swain & Maurice Williams.
directors: Clément Virgo, Jessica Lowery & Quyen Tran.
starring: Colman Domingo, Marsha Stephanie Blake, John Ortiz, Tasmin Topolski & Thaddeus J. Mixon.