This story revolves a financial adviser who resides in Chicago but he has to transfer his family to Missouri Ozarks very covertly when his dealing with the drug astray goes wrong.
Dubuque quickly gives us a strong ensemble of city folk and hicks, innocents and thugs. The overall vibe of the show is suspenseful, but there are small pockets of comedy usually found in the behavior of the locals.
Ozark isn't anything we haven't seen before, but that doesn't mean it isn't solid. In fact, its star isn't the thing that's keeping this show above the lake water.
Ozark can be excruciatingly cumbersome. There are many moving parts, none compelled to move with haste. If the characters were more engaging and likable, pace might not even be an impediment. They're not, so it is.
Ozark does most things right. Not every plot point feels completely plausible, but the show looks good and plays well; the writing is crisp and not too colorful; the performances are unforced and believable.
Richly human and ruthlessly plotted -- though overeager in repeatedly stating its existential theme of bad choices and worse consequences -- Ozark is a triumph for Bateman.
Bateman, better known for comedies such as Arrested Development, unleashes a frank blue stare that could mean anything from menace to guile to idiocy. His lack of readability keeps things fresh and unpredictable as nasty shocks unfold.
There's nothing special to report about Ozark. It's not the risk taking drama Netflix might believe it to be. If crime drama is your thing, the show is worth a look. But, it's not going to appeal to anyone outside the genre's demographic.
The main reason why Ozark, the new Netflix series, feels so underpowered has to do with its star, Jason Bateman (who also directs): a good actor who badly wants for charisma, he simply can't carry it alone.
