Driscoll is in denial, but Carvalho recognizes this is what they do. They are not Robin Hoods. Shadowy Son Pham put them in business with fake DEA badges and bullet proof vests. They keep the cash and he flips the drugs they “confiscate.” It usually works out well, until Carvlho’s recently released friend Ricky suggests a score way outside their usual territory.
It soon becomes evident Ricky set them up when their fake bust turns into a blood bath. Driscoll and Carvalho shoot several meth heads in self-defense, including, rather awkwardly, an undercover Fed. They thought they’d also killed Mina, another undercover agent, but somehow, she slipped away, with a bullet lodged in her throat. Unfortunately, they cannot interrogate Ricky, who also took a fatal bullet. Even worse, the sinister mastermind who keeps calling Driscoll clearly knows who they are—and who they care about.
For Driscoll, that only means Theresa Bowers, his jailbird father Bart’s tough-talking girlfriend, who has raised Ray like a son. He pretends to hate his incarcerated dad, but his feelings are clearly more conflicted than he lets on. He even agrees to work with Michelle Taylor, a pro bono lawyer trying to secure Bart’s compassionate release, at Bower’s request. He will probably need her services, as the cartels, biker gangs, and the real DEA all start circling him.
Dope Thief starts off with a bang. Perhaps not so coincidentally, the first episode also happens to be directed by executive producer Ridley Scott. Frankly, he probably should have adapted Dennis Tafoya’s source novel as a feature film. Episodes one and two are gritty and tense, but the middle installments are bloated and sometimes even a little aimless. The entire subplot focusing on Mina’s recovery and quest for not exactly revenge but something sort of like that clearly feel like padding—even though Marin Ireland is quite good in the role. These detours just take the audience too far away from Driscoll and the ominous voice (who sometimes falls silent for full episodes).
On the other hand, Dustin Nguyen is a shockingly quiet scene-stealer, who often upstages his flashier co-stars as Pham, the suburban family-man gangster, whose complicated relationship with Driscoll incorporates both loyalty and exploitation. As Driscoll, Brian Tyree Henry develops terrific chemistry with multiple cast members, definitely including Nguyen. Yet, his work alongside the wonderful Kate Mulgrew, as Bowers, really gives the series a lot of heart. This is really some of Mulgrew’s best work yet.
Frustratingly, Wagner Moura often tries a little too hard as Carvalho and Nesta Cooper is largely relegated to wringing her hands as the under-written Taylor. However, look out for Kieu Chinh (who is also a recent standout in Control Freak), who really brings a spark of fierceness to her every scene, as Pham’s mother, Grandma Xuan.
Nevertheless, Dope Thief simply goes on too long. It is often the case that less is more, but that is especially true in this case. Still, there is a lot of good work here, but diminishing returns set in around the third episode. The first episode is recommended as a taste, but don’t beat yourself up if you never finish the series. Earning considerably mixed marks, Dope Thief starts streaming today (3/14) on Apple TV+.