Mindhunter is often described as a David Fincher project; he directed four episodes of the first season (including the pilot), and returns to direct the opening three episodes of the second season. To be sure, Fincherâs imprintâhis directorial precisionâis all over Mindhunter, and the show deals with topics that recur in his work (Se7en, Zodiac). But I think Fincher is getting a little too much creditâitâs important to remember that the show is based on a book by actual FBI agents John E. Douglas and Mark Olshaker; furthermore, English playwright Joe Penhall is the series creator, and was primary writer for the first season, and other writers including Courtenay Miles and Joshua Donen contributed to this season, which feels very writer-driven. The drama hinges on meticulously crafted scenes of dialogue in drab, sometimes oppressively stuffy rooms, and the result is exhilarating, butâback to subverting expectationsânot in the way you expect.
Take the showâs recurring centerpieces: the series of interviews the two primary FBI agents conduct with imprisoned serial killers. These conversations are based on actual transcripts, but theyâre polished by the writers, actors, and crew into scintillating drama. And yet thereâs something frustrating, something elusive about every single one of them. Weâre conditioned to think of these types of scenes as dramatic blowoutsâthink of the Hannibal Lecter scenes in The Silence of the Lambs, or (in a slightly less murderous example) the Jack Nicholson bits of A Few Good Men. We expect answers and closure from these scenes, some kind of understanding into the bad guysâ motives, some kind of bow that we can tie around their actions.
In so many ways, Mindhunter, as a show, behaves as those interviewees do. It gives us plenty of juiceâplenty of the sensational, fucked-up stuff that makes true crime media so addictive. But it never gives us exactly what we want, or what we think we want. Thereâs always something left in the dark, some shadowy, unknowable quality that mirrors the actual, disturbing questions these real-life killers posed. This is not a procedural, and this is not a podcast. Mindhunter is going to make us dig for meaning, the same way the FBI agents had to dig through the transcripts and behavioral patterns of the killers they surveyed. And the results are never going to be as conclusive as weâve been conditionedâby books and movies and TVâto expect.
I havenât said much about the characters so far, but theyâre extraordinary. Holden Ford (played by Jonathan Groff) was the main figure in Mindhunterâs first season, but this time around heâs relegated to a significantly smaller role, with the older, more weathered Bill Tench (Holt McCallany) taking center stage. Tench is simply a terrific characterâa world-weary, coffee-slugging lifer who at first seems like an over-the-hill schnook but turns out to contain multitudes. We watch how he puts on the charisma at a cocktail party as if itâs a particularly well-fitting hat, and we see how he tries to balance an increasingly tricky home life with work that he finds both utterly beguiling and soul-sucking. McCallany couldâve made this a one-dimensional figure, a tough-talking suit in a crew-cut to serve as the foil to Fordâs more head-in-the-clouds golden boy. Instead, Tench is the emotional center, and the thing that keeps the whole Serial Crime Unit together, even as he himself starts to fall to pieces.
The season can be divided into three unequal chunks. Thereâs the Fincher-directed trilogy of episodes that kicks off the second season, then a pair of episodes directed by Andrew Dominik (The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford), which includes the attention-grabbing interview with Charles Manson. Coming at the center of the season, the Manson thing is meant to be a really big dealâbut this Mindhunter, so tame those expectations (or, better yet, experience those expectations completely, and then explore the friction between them and what Mindhunter ends up giving you). Mansonâs played by Damon Herriman, who has been having an extraordinary recent run: He also played the same role in Quentin Tarantinoâs Once Upon a Time in Hollywood in what was basically a walk-on, but did excellent bigger turns in The Nightingale and a show on Epix called Perpetual Grace, LTD. We see how Mansonâs modus operandi is to sow chaos and absorb attention; he says a lot but means very little, and the show gives us enough background to see through his latticework. I wonât spoil what comes after the Manson scene, other than to say itâs another interviewâbut wow. Thatâs where the real meat is.
This is a show that has a lot to say, even if on the surface it sometimes appears to be primarily about men in bad suits drinking cheap coffee in grubby rooms. One implied undercurrent that I donât think the showâs dealt with head-on just yet is how the serial-killer phenomenonâby which I mean their proliferation during the mid- and late 20th century, and our subsequent fascination with themâseems to be a uniquely American one. Thatâs all implied by the FBI backdrop, but for now Mindhunterâs second season is absorbing, upsetting, and fascinating, and it leaves us wanting more. Television canât do much better than that.
Mindhunter's first two seasons are now streaming on Netflix.