HBO’s “Luck” is about the thunderous glories and moral cruddiness associated with the world of thoroughbred horse racing, yet my lasting thought is not one of sunny Southern California racetracks but of ski slopes, with this question: In addition to rating the content of a new TV series, should there also be some cautionary signage about its degree of difficulty? If so, “Luck” should be labeled with a double black diamond (skier code for expert-only slopes) to warn viewers before they plummet down its dauntingly steep learning curve.
From the first episode of “Luck,” it will feel as if you’ve joined a drama that is already several episodes in progress, perhaps even well into its second season, set so completely in the specific realm of horse racing, betting, training and corruption. Something that you might know a little about, or, as likely, know nothing at all.
Hank Stuever
Hank Stuever is The Washington Post’s TV critic and author of two books, “Tinsel” and “Off Ramp.”
In either case, “Luck” leaves you in its stylishly kicked-up dirt. It’s no wonder that one character, oblivious to an exciting twist of fate during the show’s initial race shouts out, “WILL SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT’S HAPPENING?!”
But that’s usually the case. The last HBO series I recall launching with pleasurable ease was “Treme” and perhaps the hokey “True Blood,” while everything else has required the viewer’s sharp attention to detail and willingness to just watch and wait. By now, every new show on the network (and its imitators) lets complexity speak to verisimilitude. Life is tangled, and you don’t just walk in and figure out who all the people are and what their deal is. (If so, then you’re watching CBS.) HBO’s most significant shows — “The Sopranos”; “The Wire” — achieved success by requiring rapt viewing, to the point of staring and even rewinding certain scenes until the show’s mood and momentum carried you off to a satisfied place.
But there is a limit. “Luck” is suffused with brilliant acting and amazing scenes, but in a few unfortunate ways, it remains impenetrable almost until its last hour. By that point, a lot of potential viewers will have wandered off.
Beginning Sunday night for an initial run of nine episodes, all of which I watched in a two-day binge, “Luck” has been groomed to a shine, a handsome thoroughbred of high-cable lineage, sired by “Deadwood’s” David Milch and muscled up by its executive producer, “Miami Vice’s” Michael Mann. It has big stars (Dustin Hoffman, Nick Nolte, Dennis Farina) and an intensely watchable supporting cast (among them Richard Kind, John Ortiz and Jill Hennessy). It has that vicarious seediness and rotting of the flawed soul that we’ve come to expect from the network’s dramas.
Hoffman plays Chester “Ace” Bernstein, released from prison (it takes forever to find out what put him there) and ready to go back to work (it takes forever to find out what he really does, legitimately and otherwise).
He is greeted by his loyal right hand, Gus Demitriou (Farina, giving a career-topping performance here), who has been busily prepping for his boss’s release — procuring a permanent suite at the Beverly Hilton and purchasing a thoroughbred at Santa Anita Park.
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