In an age where “movie stars” sell less tickets than notable directors like Christopher Nolan and Denis Villeneuve, television is often marked by the name of a notable showrunner. Niche-focused shows like We Own This City or Show Me A Hero might not seem like they’d be commercial, but framed as being “from the creator of The Wire” gave them an advantage. In the case of Half Man, HBO Max won a bidding war to produce the second show from Richard Gadd, the writer/director/showrunner/star of Baby Reindeer. Gadd’s debut series became an unexpected Netflix sensation that swept the Primetime Emmy Awards.
The difference between Gadd and someone like The Wire’s David Simon is that Simon used his experience to inform his series, whereas Gadd made a series solely about his experience. Simon had served as the crime beat reporter in Baltimore for over a decade, and developed knowledge about the drug trade that aided in creating an epic about the collapse of America’s institutions. Comparatively, Gadd suffered severe trauma in his life, and expressed his story in the form of Baby Reindeer. The distinction is that Simon was already a storyteller who had ideas about politics, crime, and philosophy, and could apply that knowledge to other shows once his flagship The Wire was cancelled after five seasons. Gadd had poured so much of himself in Baby Reindeer that there was no way his next project would feel as personal.
Baby Reindeer was, for better or worse, a show that affected people because of the perception that it was “real,” regardless of any filmmaking talent involved. Half Man, which isn’t based on any established source material or real events, has offered a more concrete idea as to what Gadd’s interests are as a storyteller. The six-part miniseries is split across two timelines, and is centered on two men who grew up as adopted brothers, despite having diametrically opposed personalities. Niall Kennedy’s a soft-spoken, thoughtful character who’s about to be wed; he’s played in flashbacks by newcomer Mitchell Robertson, and in the present by the underrated actor Jamie Bell. Gadd saved the role of Niall’s aggressive, intense half-brother Ruben Pallister for himself, with the unknown Stuart Campbell in the same part during the flashbacks. Ruben’s arrival at Niall’s wedding day is what has initiated both men to reflect upon their shared past, which began when they were living under the same roof as teenagers.
Half Man is the latest example of a showrunner who’s creatively collapsed when they have to look beyond their semi-autobiographical show. Gadd has an interest in toxic masculinity and the unspoken compassion between men, but Half Man has the plotting of a soap opera. It’s evident from the moment of Ruben’s arrival that he’s troubled, especially since Gadd’s only acting choice is to glower and brood as the wedding festivities begin. A moment at the end of the second episode, in which his motorcycle helmet is removed in a dramatic way to reveal his face and new haircut, is evidence that no one on Gadd’s team informed him of how inadvertently hilarious he looked.
The kernel of an idea that Half Man is illuminated by is whether it’s possible to love someone, despite knowledge that they’ll never change. The friction between the current versions of Niall and Ruben is reliant on the flashbacks being proof that their initial split had produced mixed emotions. The drawback is that these flashbacks are handled so badly that it’s hard to see any interiority in the characters. Robertson is likely a fine actor, but the younger Niall’s only defining trait is his wilting, all-consuming shyness, which has seemingly prevented him from ever finishing a sentence. Campbell can’t be blamed for trying to emulate a younger version of Gadd, which is why his performance has the same issues; Ruben’s depicted as being such an aggressive, rude, and erratic force of nature that he’s not sympathetic in the least, even if Niall might have reason to admire his boldness. Prolonged tension may have allowed Half Man to develop a simmering bond between the two, but the second episode of the show is concluded with a shocking moment in which Ruben’s violent outbursts suggest psychopathy.
Gadd’s ego is the key to why Half Man doesn’t work, because the show that has presented itself as being a two-hander is really all about Ruben. Niall’s life, as depicted, doesn’t extend beyond his relationship with Ruben; there’s little shown in the 30 years between their encounters because Gadd doesn’t seem interested in Niall’s individuality, other than the way he reacted to Ruben. The conversations between an older Niall and his mother (Neve McIntosh) are exclusively about Ruben’s pending arrival, with little attention paid to what should’ve been the most important day of his life. Even in the flashbacks, Niall’s defined as nothing but a meek caricature of a British schoolboy before Ruben’s a presence in his life.
This could be defended as a creative decision if the intention was to treat the flashbacks as a subjective recollection on Niall’s part, but the scenes in the present are shot with the same awkward immediacy. It’s a shame because Bell’s a sublime performer who’s often excelled in playing reserved characters, but he’s forced to share the screen with a showrunner-star who has conflated “most acting” with “best acting.” The best decision Gadd could’ve made in the aftermath of Baby Reindeer would’ve been to take an acting role in a show that he didn’t create, which would’ve allowed him to stretch different muscles through adherence to a different creative vision. However, Half Man suggests that Gadd mistook the affection he generated from Baby Reindeer for his artistic skills, and not sympathy about what he endured.
Transitioning between playing a victim to an abuser might’ve been an interesting acting challenge, but Gadd has seen too much of himself in Ruben to ever treat him as completely dogmatic. Those interested in Bell’s talents are better suited to check out All of Us Strangers, Undertow, Defiance, Rocketman, or any other film where he isn’t cast as the less interesting part of a victim fantasy.