In Netflix’s limited series “Eric,” from screenwriter Abi Morgan (“Shame,” “The Hour”), famed puppeteer Vincent Anderson (Benedict Cumberbatch) and his wife, Cassie (Gaby Hoffmann), are forced to grapple with what-ifs when their 9-year-old son, Edgar (Ivan Morris Howe), vanishes. While Cassie leans on the NYPD and Missing Persons Squad detective Michael Ledroit (a compelling McKinley Belcher III), Vincent begins to unravel. Desperate to find Edgar, he grows increasingly volatile as he becomes obsessed with his son’s drawings of a monster puppet named Eric. Though Vincent is convinced Edgar will return home if he can bring Eric to life, the show goes beyond the anguish of missing person cases. “Eric” forces its audience to look in the mirror and face down the bigotry and biases we weaponize against each other.
“Eric” opens in 1985, 48 hours after Edgar’s disappearance. The Andersons sit at a table facing the press, pleading to the public for their son’s return. At the urging of a detective, Vincent leans into the microphone and says, “Edgar, if you’re watching this … I’m sorry, buddy.” This eerie message lingers in the air as the series pulls back in time to two days earlier. Edgar wanders backstage at Vincent’s popular children’s program, “Good Day Sunshine.” Vincent’s personality, however, couldn’t be more at odds with his profession. Cruel, callous and dismissive, he is the opposite of sunny. As Episode 1 pushes forward toward the morning of Edgar’s disappearance, the audience learns that Vincent’s temperament extends beyond the workplace, seeping into the home he shares with Cassie and Edgar.
When Edgar fails to arrive at school, Ledroit is put on the case. Still haunted by a lost Black teen, Ledroit is driven to get the Andersons a different outcome. This is no easy feat in a city determined to discard what is deemed unsavory, and everyone involved with the case is hiding something. As Ledroit chases down leads, slowed by inadequate technology, red tape and his own pain, the horrors of NYC’s government policies come to light. It becomes clear that misconduct and violence at the highest levels are complicit in harming the city’s youngest and most vulnerable citizens.
Though extremely difficult to watch, “Eric” is outstanding. Hoffmann, in particular, is gripping in her depiction of a mother cracking under the weight of what she’s lost, and a husband who refuses to connect with her. Across six episodes, the show unpacks the pitfalls of addiction and self-loathing while centering unjust outcomes born of racism, homophobia and capitalistic greed. But there is one glaring issue. As Vincent becomes unhinged, he begins to visualize a real-life Eric who taunts him and follows him around. Though the furry blue monster is a manifestation of the puppeteer’s inner torment, it’s a distraction. The tone of “Eric” is as gritty and dark as its 1980s New York City setting. Therefore, a visualized version of the puppet undermines the somberness of the series. Moreover, Cumberbatch, returning to television after a stint in blockbuster films, is capable of depicting Vincent’s self-destruction without forcing something so literal on the audience.
Ultimately, “Eric” is about much more than a missing boy. The series revolves around corruption and inhumanity, topics that will thunder in the viewer’s mind long after the final episode. Disturbing but profound, the show asks why only certain people are allowed happy endings and what that means for those who won’t ever see justice.
“Eric” premieres May 30 on Netflix.
Source Agencies
