Punch first, explanations later: 'half man' delivers brutal, hollow beats
Richard Gadd’s sophomore series, ‘Half Man,’ begins with a shockingly violent opening – a brutal punch to the face that sets the stage for six agonizingly slow episodes of escalating brutality and withheld context.
A cycle of violence, not insight
Jamie Bell’s character is left bleeding, the ‘why’ of the assault buried beneath layers of agonizingly protracted flashbacks to the 1980s. It’s not a compelling narrative hook; it’s a relentless exercise in punishment, a bleak, repetitive loop of Niall Kennedy (Bell) enduring Ruben Pallister’s (Gadd) increasingly vicious attacks.
The HBO series initially presents itself as a dissection of masculinity and the prisons we build for ourselves, but quickly devolves into a simplistic, almost cartoonish, portrayal of a toxic relationship. Ruben’s behavior, reminiscent of a possessive, violent shadow, mirrors Niall’s own deeply ingrained insecurities and self-destructive patterns. It’s a study in bad choices, and the frustratingly obvious consequences that follow.
Early scenes mirror the dynamic between Tony Soprano and Dr. Melfi from ‘The Sopranos,’ specifically the ethically fraught “Employee of the Month” episode. Gadd attempts to channel the complexities of a manipulative relationship, hinting at a devil’s bargain and the irreversible damage of crossing a line. But the execution feels hollow, lacking the nuanced exploration of morality that made that episode so potent.
The show relentlessly beats Niall – often with a force that recalls Bane’s attacks on Batman – and by the third episode, the viewer is left questioning not just when the violence will stop, but if it ever will. Gadd presents a grim tableau of a man trapped in a cycle of self-inflicted pain, a tragic figure largely defined by Ruben’s relentless cruelty. The series ultimately feels less like a profound commentary and more like a prolonged, uncomfortable observation of a man repeatedly failing to learn from his mistakes. It's a spectacle of misery, not a revelation.
While Gadd’s intention – a critique of regressive attitudes in 1980s Scotland – is discernible beneath the melodrama, the series’ slow pace and repetitive violence overshadow any potential depth. The impact of the brutality, though visually arresting, diminishes with each subsequent blow. The ending, a blunt declaration of ‘all your shit, son,’ feels less like a poignant realization and more like a weary dismissal of Niall’s entire existence.
Ultimately, ‘Half Man’ is a frustrating exercise in restraint. Gadd clearly possesses a keen eye for uncomfortable truths, but the series’ commitment to its bleak premise ultimately sacrifices narrative coherence and emotional resonance. It’s a brutal, visually striking experience, but one that leaves the viewer feeling profoundly empty.