The Penguin: A Comic-Book Show That Steers Clear of Traditional Comic Book Elements
The central question facing The Penguin—HBO’s gritty, offbeat new comic-book crime series—is one that has loomed over similar shows ever since Tony Soprano’s infamous drive through the New Jersey Turnpike: Why follow yet another violent, emotionally dysfunctional, white male sociopath? What makes Colin Farrell’s portrayal of Oswald “Oz” Cobb (stripped of his iconic “Cobblepott” surname and historical ties to generational wealth in this TV adaptation) worth spending eight hours with?
Fans hoping to find answers rooted in the comic books will likely be left puzzled. Set in the same grimy version of Gotham City introduced in Matt Reeves’ 2022 film The Batman—itself so grounded it nearly abandons the comic-book world altogether—The Penguin, led by showrunner Lauren LeFranc, has no interest in traditional comic elements like trick umbrellas, capes, or cinematic action. If you swapped out a few references to Arkham or the Riddler’s attack on Gotham, this could easily be a crime drama about any mid-tier criminal struggling for power in America.
At the heart of the show is Farrell’s performance as Oswald Cobb, a character that blends typical crime-boss tropes with quirks and prosthetics, brought to life by Farrell’s standout performance in The Batman. In this series, though, we see a diminished version of Oz—no longer comfortable in his position of power, now a middle manager serving the whims of the aristocratic Falcone crime family. Early in the show, we see him clashing with newly appointed scion Alberto Falcone (Michael Zegen), who mistakes Oz’s moments of sentimentality for weakness. When Alberto underestimates him, Oz impulsively guns him down, setting the stage for the series.
Farrell shines in moments where his character’s power-hungry chaos surfaces—his maniacal laugh after killing Alberto, followed by nervous sweat, perfectly captures the series’ darkly comedic tone. Farrell’s portrayal makes you understand why an actor of his caliber would take on such a familiar role.
However, the show leans into crime drama clichés, like Oz acquiring a young sidekick, Victor (Rhenzy Feliz), who he spares after catching him trying to steal rims off his car. This nod to Robin’s origin in the comics feels like a missed opportunity, as The Penguin avoids comic-book references entirely. Victor’s role is limited to being an audience surrogate and scene partner for Farrell, yet Feliz’s grounded performance contrasts with Farrell’s high-energy antics, resulting in a lackluster dynamic between the two.
The series’ makeup work is impressive, with Farrell’s prosthetics allowing him to emote without distraction, though his exaggerated waddle around Gotham feels less necessary. In other areas, the show falls back on well-worn tropes: a scene where Oz finds inspiration while watching an old movie (Gilda), and a meeting with his dementia-stricken mother, Francis (played by Deirdre O’Connell), who pushes him toward power with unsettling, borderline incestuous overtones—a familiar dynamic reminiscent of Livia Soprano.
The true standout of the pilot is Cristin Milioti as Sofia Falcone, who exudes quiet menace from the moment she steps on screen. In a tense lunch scene with Oz, she asserts her dominance with an unnerving mix of philosophical musings and physical intimidation, quickly establishing herself as the show’s chief antagonist.
Despite strong performances from Farrell and Milioti, The Penguin risks being a collection of crime-show clichés. The humor, like Cobb’s pettiness when critiquing Victor’s corpse disposal, offers hope that the show might carve out a unique identity. But so far, its connection to the comic-book world feels thin at best. While The Batman leaned into a brooding, noir sensibility, The Penguin is less operatic, with Oz’s rise to power feeling more muted and less compelling. Whether the series can elevate itself beyond its familiar trappings remains to be seen.
