The only thing scarier than the monsters that live under the bed, are the real-life monsters that roam the streets, capable of the most heinous crimes. And in 1980s New York, for puppeteer Vincent (Benedict Cumberbatch), the lines of which monster is worse blur when his nine-year-old son goes missing.
Life isn’t easy for Vincent, but he also doesn’t make it easy for himself. His alcoholism and substance abuse exacerbates his mental health issues, which seemingly have stemmed from childhood trauma. His wife Cassie (Gaby Hoffman) is on the verge of ending their marriage due to his abrupt and volatile outbursts of anger. And despite being a puppeteer and creative lead on the number one children’s show, his inability to work harmoniously with the producers creates turmoil, putting his job in jeopardy.
However, things truly spiral when Vincent’s son Edgar (Ivan Morris Howe) goes missing. Cassie works with closeted gay, black Detective Ledroit (McKinley Belcher III), who is experiencing the full extent of racism and homophobia within a 1980s police force, to bring Edgar home. But Vincent goes on his own journey to find his son, and befriends a 7-foot tall, furry monster called Eric – a creation from the mind of Edgar.
It’s quite obvious early on but based on the interactions between Vincent and this ridiculously giant monster, Eric is an outward projection of Vincent’s trauma and mental health issues. Eric is the voice inside Vincent’s head berating him, but also driving him to find his son. The allegory for mental health is, at the core, what this series is about.
Benedict Cumberbatch gives a hard to watch performance, in a way that really highlights the seriousness of the themes being presented in Eric. As a character, Vincent is a tough protagonist to side with due to his volatile nature, but in his moments of weakness, the audience is heavily reminded of the demons he is battling, and that doesn’t work unless the performance from Cumberbatch is convincing enough.
Being the outward projection of Vincent, it also makes sense that the monster of Eric is voiced by Benedict Cumberbatch, and the transformation of his voice is a great addition to the gruff anger that is at the core of his trauma.
The six, hour long episode series doesn’t just focus on the Vincent/Eric dynamic and missing child narrative. In fact, there are a lot of story arcs, threads and characters that do make the first few episodes feel slightly convoluted. Political corruption, displacing the homeless community, racism, homophobia, sex trafficking start as separate story lines that do occasionally drag down the overall pacing of the show and convolute the narrative, but there are satisfying pay offs as those threads interact and connect with each other.
Unfortunately, a lot of this threads tonally clash with the main relationship between Vincent and Eric. While the projection of trauma is taken seriously within the show, it’s also played (appropriately) for laughs, predominantly through the savage banter, mostly brought on by Eric.
However, against the backdrop of themes that aren’t played for laughs, and the sporadic nature of Vincent actually interacting with Eric as the series progresses, it almost feels like a completely different show is happening, and the clash of the two different tones doesn’t always gel together well.
One character that features prominently throughout the series is Detective Laroit, who as a gay, black man in the 1980s New York paints a gruelling picture of the treatment he receives, but also the way he overcomes adversity in order to do his incredibly demanding job. The humanity of the police, something not usually seen in television or movies (and mostly for good reason), illuminates through McKinley Belcher III’s heartbreaking performance.
All six episodes have been directed by Lucy Forbes (This Is Going To Hurt, The End of the F***ing World), who is no stranger to creating a gritty, dirty atmosphere to her work. The dankness of a hustling 80s New York is captured in an inescapable way for the audience, often resulting in viscerally feeling New York through the screen. The claustrophobic cinematography and brilliant set design is just as transportive.
Eric is an interesting breakdown of how an adult deals with trauma, when facing on onslaught of even more oncoming trauma. However, the tonal inconsistencies and convoluted story lines, of which there are maybe a few too many, overshadow what is a genuinely tense thriller, headlined by a brutally authentic performance from Benedict Cumberbatch, who really puts the audience in the mindset of Vincent’s trauma.
Eric is streaming on Netflix from May 30.
