The Lowdown kicks off its second season with a thrilling two-episode return to Tulsa

Lee Raybon is clever, but he’s not smart enough to get out of his own way. That description of The Lowdown’s main character doesn’t entirely explain why this is one of the best shows on TV, but it at least grounds you in the shaggy and brilliantly realized hero at its center. Creator and executive producer Sterlin Harjo established in last year’s amazing eight-episode first season that he could craft an immensely intelligent neo-noir set in his home state of Oklahoma—something truly lived-in and fresh and compelling. Working with his star, Ethan Hawke, and pulling from the biography of local legend Lee Roy Chapman, Harjo came up with one of the great modern lead characters in Lee Raybon. Lee is a slightly Lebowski-esque figure, a self-proclaimed “truthstorian” who wants to right some societal wrongs while hunting down a good story. If he manages to feel a bit better about himself, and a bit less guilty about his built-in white privilege, in the process, all the better. 

The first season of The Lowdown was a precisely written, lively and entertaining combination of mystery and character study, gradually building up its vision of Tulsa and drawing the audience into an investigation that starts with a seemingly simple suicide and ends up in the world of white supremacy, land rights, and politics. It’s enough to make any seasoned viewer wonder if the second season, kicking off with this two-episode premiere, would suffer a sophomore slump. After the one-two punch of “The Rupidoop” and “Whiskey Bent And Hell Bound,” it’s at least clear that Harjo and the rest of the creative team are starting off strong. One of this show’s many strengths is its incredible casting, and there are two major additions in season two. The first hour’s pre-title scene is simple enough: 30 miles outside Tulsa, a cop comes upon a doddering old man who identifies himself as Lee Raybon and is played by Tommy Lee Jones.

As much as The Lowdown is boosted by its exemplary writing, carefully constructing its setting through three-dimensional character work, the show is constantly buoyed by the shrewd and charismatic Hawke. Lee Raybon is a bundle of contradictions, desperate to be seen as a good man, father, and writer even though he barely wants to put in the work in any of those roles. That Hawke is so adept at bringing this guy to life, and to make him this lovable, is a testament to his immense talent as an actor. Seeing as Hawke is arguably the best actor of his generation, it only tracks that the man who made Lee Raybon what he is should be portrayed by one of the acting legends of his generation.

While the elder Lee Raybon (hereafter known by his preferred nickname, Frog) only appears briefly in the first two installments, it’s clear enough that Lee holds no special place for his dad, who he hasn’t seen in 17 years. Frog shambles his way into town because he read about Lee receiving a major award: Citizen Journalist of the Year, which he earned for his article on the late Dale Washberg. But Frog is less drawn in by Lee’s work than by the news that he has a granddaughter. Though Frog finagles his way into finding out who Francis is, when he stops by her school, she informs him her grandfather is dead. What little we do learn about Frog, like his past as a fake preacher and a porn-shop proprietor, manages to make Lee’s parenting of Francis look impressive by comparison.

Frog aside, the main mystery of season two focuses more on the other new addition, a public defender named Ginger (Betty Gilpin). Lee meets her after thoroughly embarrassing himself with his awards-acceptance speech. (That’s what happens when you undercut salient points about other journalists not adequately holding the powerful accountable by admitting you’re high on mushrooms.) Lee can’t help but be drawn to the statuesque Ginger, especially after a) she tells him she’s being followed by two tough customers and b) she kisses him passionately to throw them off her scent. One of her many clients is Mekko Dean, who she’s been unable to contact  at the state prison in Boontill where he’s incarcerated.

The question, even after these first two episodes, is what Mekko Dean may even be involved in. Lee knows that he’s important to someone or a group of someones. Why else would an impostor be sent in Mekko’s place to talk to Lee when he visits the prison? Why else would the prison’s head guard, McMann (Shawn McRae), follow Ginger around and attempt to kill Lee for asking questions? Ginger’s unwilling to share too much about Mekko, aside from silently admitting that she had some kind of romantic connection with him. Maybe that unwillingness to open up is what gets Lee going, even though there are red flags all over this story. Two episodes in, I don’t think that Ginger will turn out to be this season’s equivalent of Betty Jo Washberg, the first-season femme fatale portrayed masterfully by Jeanne Tripplehorn. But Lee knows very little about everyone in this situation, and is driven primarily by a desire to re-establish his tough-journalist cred after hearing everyone refer to his award-winning article as a “puff piece.”