If you’ve forgotten everything in the slow-burning, psychedelic visual trip of Season 1 of STARZ’s fantasy drama “American Gods” series, you wouldn’t be at fault. It’s been nearly two years since the season finale of the show based on Neil Gaiman’s novel about the battle of belief and mythological supremacy, and subsequently there’s been nothing but drama in the interim— showrunner Bryan Fuller was ousted from the show, and lots of behind-the-scenes turmoil ensued. Belatedly returning to the cable channel, “American Gods” faces heightened pressure to successfully replicate the magical and gloomy atmosphere Fuller managed to conjure.
Season 1— introducing a set-up of New vs. Old Gods and the war brewing between them— is best remembered in intense snapshots: a just-reborn Laura Moon (Emily Browning) hobbling down a street, holding a stump of an arm in a Tim Burton esque rag-doll fashion; the unveiling of the leprechaun Mad Sweeney’s (Pablo Schreiber) backstory and his confounding relationship with luck; the sensual love scene between Salim (Omid Abtahi) and the Jinn (Mousa Kraish); Orlando Jones’ Mr. Nancy burning a hole through the screen in his impassioned introductory speech and any moment Gillian Anderson showed up as the New Age God, “Media.” It’s a testament to the level of production and distinct tonality that Season 1 possessed all these memory-searing moments, even if it lacked an overall ability to tie the storyline together concisely.
Season 2 picks up almost immediately where things left off as Wednesday/Odin (Ian McShane) calls the Old God comrades to arms through the aid of the Jinn and Mr. Nancy. The plan is to go to war with the New Gods, who believe Odin and his kind are mere relics in a modern world where the masses would rather believe in their devices and means of proprietary escape than myths and legends. Before he can sway the opinions of those such as Bilquis (Yetide Badaki) and Mama Ji (Sakina Jaffrey) they must be convinced that the threat is imminent, coming in the form of a planned, brutal attack by Mr. World (Crispin Glover). If there’s anything from the start that separates Season 2 from the first so distinctly, it’s that the storyline thus far is continual, plots diverging from one another constantly but occasionally congregating at the same spot.
Season 1 was too much like preliminary chapters, a feeling highlighted at the start of each episode as new characters were introduced and new myths realized; nonstop set up without a payoff. It remains a relatively shallow series, one that prioritizes grandiosity and visual flair to actual meaningful storytelling (mostly) but Season 2 at least sets the stage for a narrative that knows it needs to start fueling the fire with greater intent.
Some storylines allow characters, such as Salim and Jinn, and Sweeney and Laura’s plots, to play and build on budding romantic partnerships, but almost everyone else is too isolated. Continually dis-serviced—even in an episode dedicated to his character’s backstory, a frustrating justification for his own leading status, it’s Shadow (Ricky Whittle). The audience proxy, by design he is the least interesting character in any given scene, asking the audience to buy and shrug at some of the lunacy and while Whittle does an admirable job at trying to imbue the character with any modicum of charisma, he isn’t helped by the bigger personalities that outshine him at all time. Even the scene-chewing McShane pales in comparison to personalities such as Mr. Nancy who is outsized in all manner of performance.
Ultimately, it’s still the tangible chemistry between Laura and Sweeney that remains the show’s greatest strength and the writing that cares about their personal growth (wish the same could be said of Shadow). Browning and Schreiber are delightful and Browning, in particular, continues to deliver a standout performance as a woman who had to die to find purpose and now, through death, must learn to save without inflicting pain.
But they can only do so much, the show is exasperatingly meandering and the on-the-nose dialogue would be easier to stomach if it wasn’t inflicted on the audience with such melodramatic moments of exposition. “American Gods” lives and breathes through the visuals, and as one of the most arrestingly gorgeous-to-look-at shows on the air treats everything from set design to costuming as intricate pieces of the storytelling. Thus, it’s a shame, all of the efforts are continually disserviced by overwrought dialogue, too beholden to Gaiman’s novel, that often feels tired and too deliberate. A contemplative scene set in a field of wildflowers says so much more with so little than a sequence where the mysterious Mr. World dramatically soliloquies about his plans for world domination to an empty room.
“American Gods” walks a precariously thin line as it attempts to balance simplicity with narrative hijinks, building subtler character dynamics, all the while making sure the worlds around them stay alive and interesting. So far, they’re only partly succeeding, ensuring that old fans will tune in each week while likely scaring away any new possible audiences that want to tackle this unwieldy show. It’s ambitious and the source material is undeniably spectacular, but the trick is not compromising on that material for something safe and too obvious. [C+]