The Netflix miniseries Hemlock Grove is one of those things that feel both new and oddly familiar. When all 13 one-hour episodes debuted online two weeks ago, the move was not only aggressive; it was progressive. It seems the subscription-only network, basking in the afterglow of the brilliant political thriller House of Cards, is totally aware that like the premium channels it’s trying to emulate HBO and Showtime it’s in a unique position to offer original content but at a pace determined by the user. The ambition is welcome, though I’m not too certain that a supernatural-flavored whodunit is the way to do it.
Hemlock Grove is a bit of a madhouse. Based on the novel of the same title by Brian McGreevy and produced by Inglourious Basterds’ Eli Roth, the story begins with the murder of a cheerleader. “This is a strange town. You can feel it in your balls,’†observes Peter Rumancek (Landon Liboiron), a scruffy, trailer-dwelling gypsy who, despite being new to the place, forms an unlikely bond with the brooding rich kid Roman Godfrey (Bill Skarsgård). As the duo investigates the crime, it becomes apparent that pretty much everyone is strange enough to be considered a suspect.
Neither great nor awful
Those indoctrinated in television shows starring werewolves, vampires and witches from True Blood and The Vampire Diaries to the soon-to-return Teen Wolf know that sprinkling some gore into a soap opera can be fun. While Hemlock Grove does come across as a sort of Twin Peaks for the Twilight crowd, determining whether its brand of camp is endearing or enraging is complicated since the show is neither consistently great nor consistently awful, despite the overwhelmingly negative reviews.
A huge plus, for instance, is the central love-hate friendship between Peter and Roman. Their banter and natural rapport is the stuff that fuels fan fiction sites. The furry Liboiran, as the socially awkward werewolf, manages a convincing enough performance, one that’s definitely more decent than his turn in the dinosaur-themed flop Terra Nova. His effects-laden transformation scene is unlike any I’ve ever witnessed, and I mean that in the best way possible.
Other newcomers in the cast help add to the mystery. Shelley (Nicole Boivin), Roman’s younger sister, is a fast favorite. She may be the most oversized and most physically deformed among the Hemlock Grove horror archetypes, but her innocence and vulnerability make her the most human one too, especially when she communicates in grunts, through a voice machine or by touch-typing. I also found myself rooting for Roman’s cousin Letha (Penelope Mitchell), a virgin who claims to have been knocked up after a visit from an angel.
Distracted and distracting
With the relatively good comes the undeniably bad. Famke Janssen is the worst as Olivia, Roman’s overbearing and unorthodox British mother. Forced to focus on her vowels, the typically reliable actress ends up using all 20 accents in her arsenal for this gig, resulting in an extremely distracted and distracting performance.
Her son, played by the lanky Skarsgård, isn’t any better at affecting dialects either. Although the young Swede, brother of True Blood’s Alexander, commands the screen with his physicality, his phrasing and enunciation are strained and unrealistic. No matter how hard he tries to sound generally American or Canadian, at best Skarsgård’s Scandinavian roots betray him. It’s subtleties like these that prevent him from fully disappearing into the role.
My verdict? Yes, Hemlock Grove tends to drift aimlessly from one episode to the next, but it has just enough glimpses of nudity, gruesome deaths and ridiculous subplots to keep me locked in. If, like me, you have a taste for the bizarre, offbeat and potentially abominable, you’re in for a treat. If not, it would be best for you to binge-watch something else.
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