The headline, the pitch, the reason “True Story” exists is that it presents global superstar Kevin Hart as we haven’t seen him before. Which is true. We haven’t seen him in this type of violent nightmare, in which he plays a character who makes one terrible decision after another to protect himself, collecting more and more blood on his hands. We also haven’t seen him flex these dramatic muscles, even in tearful dramas like “Fatherhood” or “The Upside.” However, we have indeed seen him, as a stand-up especially, try and fail to make his fame and fortune important to us, which makes for shrinking stakes here in this seven-episode Netflix miniseries. “True Story” is a gripping however gratuitous saga that nonetheless struggles to wrestle with its largest beast: Kevin Hart’s ego.
Created by Eric Newman and packed with enough criminal acts and twists to warrant a curious look, “True Story” is a Hollywood story with a body count, acts of betrayal, and shocking acts of violence. It also takes after other Hart vehicles, in which Hart can be even more inspired depending on who he shares the screen with. In this case, it’s Wesley Snipes as his big brother Carlton, who is estranged from, and still living in their hometown of Philadelphia. One of the most interesting notes in the show’s excellent first episode—before things explode—involves their dynamic. Hart may be playing a global superstar box office Midas named Kid, whose success is reflective of the hard work that got him out of tiny Philly comedy clubs. But he’s easily intimidated by his brother Carlton, and visibly uncomfortable once he’s under Carlton’s light. The first night of their reunion has them at an afterparty for Kid’s “What Did I Tell You?” tour. Kid has been sober for six months, but Carlton, wearing red and black to signpost his devil-on-the-shoulder presence, pressures Kid to have a shot, and then another, and another.
“True Story” then blacks out and presents Kid with a crossroads that will haunt his character throughout this journey of bold decisions. He wakes up in bed with a woman from the club, and she is dead (her name is not known until later). He’s freaking out—what if this ruins his career? The superhero movie that he just made, “Anti-Verse” opposite Chris Hemsworth—what if that ruins its box office chances of hitting a billion dollars, and a sequel? You can see the kind of questions that the plotting asks earnestly, not with self-awareness as to its vanity. Anywho, Carlton tells Kid that if they call an ambulance, the cops will come. Game over. Kid thinks about it, starts to find more security in the mysterious shadow of his brother, in initial scenes of debate and worry that are fascinating to watch because of what they both bring to the table. Kid decides to let Carlton’s friend, a Greek gangster named Ari (Billy Zane, stealing the show), clean it all up, and erase it. But that only makes things so much worse, especially when another dead body is involved, and Carlton and Kid have to get rid of it while juggling Kid’s career.
There is an exciting energy in these early episodes, as Carlton and Kid find themselves trying to pull off the always hooky spectacle of the perfect crime. Hart and Snipes have high-powered, incredible chemistry as they wrestle with this stuff, while their own beef clutters Kid’s Four Seasons hotel room. Carlton has his own financial needs from Kid, involving money for a restaurant venture that’s falling apart, and that adds more stress especially as Carlton gets in Kid’s circle involving his manager, bodyguard, and writer (more on them later). All the while, Carlton’s own secrets linger, and Snipes makes you unsettled without telling you what you should even be wary of. The dialogue of “True Story” can be corny and on-the-nose, but it has some razor-sharp moments like when Kid sums up Carlton as “If Friday the 13th were a person.”
As Carlton and Kid try to dodge public attention and later deal with nosy fans, angry gangsters, and their tenuous bond, “True Story” becomes a missed opportunity for a much more meaningful story about fame and access, a star text that could challenge our ideas of what we know we know about being a celebrity. Instead, Hart uses his certain celebrity powers to sway the story (getting whatever he needs to hide a body, and with the van to do it), or to be shamelessly gratuitous, as in a laugh-out-loud shameless sex blip that just wants to make sure we see Hart having sex. Humility still largely doesn’t apply to Hart, who creates a cringing, takes-you-out-of-the-moment scene every time (often) someone praises him as a “billion-dollar-man,” or there’s a fan story about how his comedy saves and unites people. These passages aren’t for us primarily, they’re for Kevin Hart and taken outside Kevin Hart Land, they translate poorly while also softening the script’s edges. Hart having fame and success and maybe losing it, or having people siphon from it, is not interesting. Here it makes the sense of what is at stake so minimal, and watching irate, violent Greek gangsters straight from a Jason Mantzoukas impression contest doesn’t make things more uneasy in later episodes.
Someone wise on Twitter once said that you never catch Kevin Hart being casually funny. The same can be said about him as an actor, at least for now, looking like a hungry newcomer opposite Snipes’ icy nature and ease. Hart is eager for showy moments—he gets the awards-friendly spectacle of trashing a living space and screaming—but his work is noticeably tougher to feel when it comes to the weight on Kid’s shoulders. Kid’s actions become increasingly calculated, volatile, desperate—but Hart can’t communicate the unease as his character goes from comedian to criminal. It’s plain when he doesn’t give a good worry face, or when it only feels like he’s just imitating cold-blooded toughness, and this later impedes a type of transformation that could create an even stronger arc. Hart’s gives a riveting performance, in that you can see parts of it absolutely work, during certain monologues and reserved conversations (especially opposite Snipes), but that it’s not all there. It’s a true acting class of a performance, as it shows you what to do and not to do.
Given the series’ size, “True Story” also doles out a little more focus to the people in Kid’s circle, which becomes a fairly immediate example of interesting characters given cursory plot lines. It’s also here that the story’s ability for showbiz, to get into the team that makes a Kevin Hart, falls apart or doesn’t add up. Tawny Newsome plays Billie, his writer, who starts to wonder about her own career as a stand-up, starting with using the jokes that Kid has discarded; William Catlett gives a sometimes funny but always emotionally poignant performance as Hersch, Kid’s bodyguard and non-blood older brother, who has to stand back and watch Kid spiral with his secrets. Paul Adelstein plays Todd, Kid’s manager, and there are throwaway scenes to his own personal stresses as things get weirder in Philly, which don’t fill out the character but just kill time.
“True Story” is very good at being some albeit polarizing things: for one, it’s good at twists, whether they make you laugh-out-loud from their ridiculousness or do genuinely shock you, two experiences I had with this show. I wanted to follow “True Story” to the end in spite of its shortcomings and in spite of the overbearing presence of its star who is pushing himself while showing just how difficult it is for him to step outside of himself. “True Story” works best if you roll with all of that gratuitousness if you let its self-consciousness about legacy express itself with flaws. We are all well aware of who Kevin Hart is as a successful famous person. The best parts of “True Story” give us more of a glimpse at what he’s got as an actor and an artist. [B-]