DTF St. Louis review: Jason Bateman, David Harbour, and Linda Cardellinis love triangle sizzles, then fizzles
"No one's normal. It just looks that way from across the street."
You'll hear that phrase a few times throughout DTF St. Louis, a darkly comedic miniseries from HBO and creator Steven Conrad (Patriot). The show examines the intertwined lives of three friends, diving beneath their seemingly normal exteriors to prod at the desires and fantasies they hope will drive away their middle-age malaise. Along the way, there's an affair, a murder, and a wildly named hookup app called DTF St. Louis.
With these elements, DTF St. Louis looks anything but normal from across the street. But in a disappointing reversal of the show's oft-repeated mantra, the closer you get, the more frustratingly conventional it becomes.
What's DTF St. Louis about?
Like many hit HBO dramas, including Big Little Lies and The White Lotus, DTF St. Louis' first episode reveals that there's been a murder. The victim? ASL interpreter Floyd Smernitch (David Harbour).
In the months leading up to his death, we learn that Floyd became close friends with his coworker, local weatherman Clark Forrest (Jason Bateman). As the pair bond during jogging workouts and cornhole parties, they commiserate over their now-sexless marriages. Enter DTF St. Louis, an app for married people looking to "spice it" as Clark puts it. He pushes the app on Floyd, and mere weeks later, Floyd is dead.
The above plays out in fragmented fashion during DTF St. Louis' first episode. Time jumps abound, leaving awkward gaps in Floyd and Clark's relationship. These gaps serve less as proof of the passage of time and more as the show hiding its juiciest developments for later.
Those developments truly come into play as Detective Donoghue Homer (Richard Jenkins) and Special Crimes Officer Jodie Plumb (Joy Sunday) begin their investigation. Their biggest discovery? That Clark was having an affair with Floyd's wife, Carol Love-Smernitch (Linda Cardellini).
DTF St. Louis' love triangle is intriguing, but underdeveloped.
As Homer and Plumb learn, Clark and Carol would play out their sexual fantasies with each other, be that trying new positions or role-playing as a sexbot and his new owner. Each is a way for them to get what they're missing in their home life: Clark gets to give up control, while Carol gets to take it.
The sex scenes are lightly humorous, with Bateman and Cardellini fully committing to their characters' desires and their seeming belief that living out these dreams will fix their mid-life crises. (A particularly telling fantasy? Clark role-playing as a pool boy in his 20s.)
As Clark and Carol's affair progresses, DTF St. Louis begins to lionize Floyd, highlighting his kindheartedness and his understanding relationship with his stepson Richard (Arlan Ruf). It's as if the show forgets that he, too, is actively trying to cheat, reducing him instead to a virtuous teddy bear in death. Clark and Carol risk being flattened as well, turned into nothing more than streaks of blithe idiocy and cold manipulation.
Bateman, Harbour, and Cardellini are formidable, though. Bateman's typical dry humor is perfect for Clark's understated scumminess, and Harbour is wonderfully warm. I wish Cardellini got more to do (which she might in the last three episodes). For now, Carol toggles between Clark's view of her as his fantasy woman and Floyd's view of her as a sexless nag. Somehow, Cardellini finds a middle ground that helps Carol feel more her own person, but in the scheme of the whole love triangle, Carol remains the most unknown of the points.
DTF St. Louis' structure is infuriating.
To be fair, much of that is by design. DTF St. Louis wants to keep viewers in the dark about its central investigation throughout its run. Unfortunately, that means dragging the mystery out, especially when it comes down to Homer and Plumb's investigation.
Don’t miss out on our latest stories: Add Mashable as a trusted news source in Google.
While Jenkins and Sunday make for a fun old blood-new guard duo, their findings rarely reveal something that flashbacks haven't already made abundantly clear. The flashbacks themselves are primarily motivated through an interrogation of Clark, who does himself — and the audience! — no favors by staying awkwardly silent at inopportune moments. Are you trying your best to look guilty, Clark, or is DTF St. Louis just withholding information so it can justify its murder hook for another few episodes?
In addition to stringing viewers along, DTF St. Louis seems not to trust them either. The show reiterates evidence time and time again. Even worse, it repeats a key discussion almost word for word in two different episodes, to the point that I felt I was hallucinating.
It's a shame, because DTF St. Louis is full of some genuinely funny moments, from a suspicious smoothie rendezvous to a whispered discussion at the Outback Steakhouse urinals about using DTF St. Louis. Peak loser behavior! I wish DTF St. Louis leaned further into that angle, but in the end, its underwhelming, nonchronological mystery approach wins out.