Amer­i­can Gods ​‘The Bone Orchard’ review – Bold and bloody television

Chap­ter 15 of Neil Gaiman’s pre­ferred text of ​‘Amer­i­can Gods’ opens with the first few lines of tra­di­tion­al song ​‘Hang Me, Oh Hang Me’. It’s a song that has made a long jour­ney across the folk music scene, dat­ing as far back as the late 1800s. Oscar Isaac per­formed the haunt­ing melody as the tor­ment­ed tit­u­lar fig­ure in the Coen broth­ers’ Inside Llewyn Davis.

The lyrics con­jure up a star­tling image of a per­son who has come to the end of their teth­er and lost com­plete faith in any­thing – some­thing which Davis has in com­mon with the pro­tag­o­nist of Gaiman’s Amer­i­can odyssey. This des­per­ate dit­ty with mys­te­ri­ous begin­nings per­fect­ly encap­su­lates the mood of the show and wid­ow­er Shad­ow Moon (Ricky Whit­tle) as he nav­i­gates his way along dusty roads and through the ardu­ous griev­ing process.

The hangman’s noose repeat­ed­ly appears through­out the first episode of Amer­i­can Gods – those who have read the book will know why. Showrun­ners Bryan Fuller and Michael Green have a firm grip on this image. They sprin­kle their macabre and twist­ed mag­ic on griz­zly visu­als and serve up cut­ting social com­men­tary on race.

David Slade directs ​‘The Bone Orchard’ with the help of his reg­u­lar DoP Jo Willems, bring­ing with them the sump­tu­ous colour palette syn­ony­mous with the Han­ni­bal TV series which they also worked on. Music super­vi­sor Bri­an Reitzell employs intense and eerie off-kil­ter strings to add a sur­re­al ambi­ence to lush, dark inte­ri­ors and shock­ing sex­u­al encoun­ters but he also adds a tasty Amer­i­cana flavour to the long open roads and trashy motels with some good ol’ tunes. The exquis­ite­ly designed sets by Pat­ti Podes­ta lend the show a seedy, night­mar­ish ambi­ence and the spe­cial effects are at times aston­ish­ing­ly imaginative.

Ian McShane is per­fect­ly cast in the role of Mr Wednes­day, Shadow’s crooked employ­er and cheeky road trip bud­dy. He deliv­ers glo­ri­ous gal­lows humour in spades – at this point it isn’t entire­ly clear whether Whit­tle will be able to match McShane’s charis­mat­ic pres­ence. Sup­port­ing char­ac­ters are intro­duced with style and panache. Pablo Schreiber as lep­rechaun Mad Sweeney turns in both an intim­i­dat­ing and com­i­cal per­for­mance. He swigs entire pints of booze mid-way through a bru­tal bar brawl with glee yet his whole demeanour is tinged with an under­ly­ing agony.

Yetide Bada­ki as Bilquis seduc­tive­ly pops with a dev­il­ish charm in a jaw drop­ping erot­i­cal­ly charged scene where she entices an eager Tin­der date inside her glow­ing red room. Rel­a­tive new­com­er Bruce Langley’s intro­duc­tion as Tech­ni­cal Boy is huge­ly influ­enced by Stan­ley Kubrick’s A Clock­work Orange. He’s a sin­is­ter man­i­fes­ta­tion who sits regal­ly in a lim­ou­sine accom­pa­nied by sadis­tic, face­less droogs dressed in braces and berets who car­ry out sav­age beat­ings under his orders. Each act segues nice­ly into the next with sep­a­rate nar­ra­tives of vicious and vio­lent his­to­ry play­ing out with wild-eyed zeal.

The dark and pow­er­ful images of suf­fer­ing are effec­tive­ly alarm­ing and bring to mind lynch­ing and cru­el pun­ish­ment. The graph­ic depic­tion of vio­lence is designed to hor­ri­fy but the wit­ty nature of Gaiman’s nov­el slots in win­ning­ly to ele­vate the spirits.

Ama­zon Orig­i­nal series Amer­i­can Gods is avail­able on Ama­zon Prime from 1 May.