The best television is the kind that feels so textured and lived-in that you can basically smell it. And The Lowdown stinks to high heaven. Like his acclaimed Reservation Dogs, Sterlin Harjo’s new comedy noir for FX is a lovingly realized tale of a small community writ large. It’s also a personal story for its creator: While Rez Dogs was inspired by Harjo’s upbringing in rural Oklahoma, The Lowdown is a tribute to his adopted hometown of Tulsa. The series is stylish and genre-savvy, and its spurs are firmly planted in the Osage County dirt.
Ethan Hawke stars as Lee Raybon, a down-and-out freelance journalist/bookshop owner who dubs himself a “truth-storian.” From his duct-taped cowboy boots to his bird’s-nest hair, the guy is a hot mess. As the self-appointed savior of Tulsa’s dispossessed, he’s determined to expose the corruption and racism of the city’s elite, no matter the cost to his personal wellbeing. (“Fuckin’ white men that care,” one Black character says of Lee. “Saddest of the bunch.”)
When Dale Washberg (Tim Blake Nelson), a scion of Tulsa’s most powerful family, dies by apparent suicide, Lee smells a rat. He’s sure that Dale’s well-heeled older brother Donald (Kyle MacLachlan), who’s campaigning for governor, has ties to the city’s white supremacist underground via the sinister, well-groomed Allen Murphy (Scott Shepherd). And then there’s Dale’s widow, Betty Jo (Jeanne Tripplehorn), who knows more than she’s letting on; and Marty (Keith David), a world-weary PI Donald hires to tail Lee. The deeper he gets, the more Lee endangers not only himself but the people he cares about: his teen daughter Francis (Ryan Kiera Armstrong); his ex-wife Sam (Kaniehtiio Horn); his editor Cyrus (Michael “Killer Mike” Render); his buddy Ray (Michael Hitchcock); and Deidra (Siena East), who keeps Hoot Owl Books running when Lee’s busy getting the crap kicked out of him by skinheads.
Though the plot of The Lowdown is fictional, Harjo based his scrappy hero on real-life Tulsa legend Lee Roy Chapman, a citizen journalist who ran an antiquarian bookstore. Up until his death in 2015, he dedicated his life to exposing the racist underbelly of Oklahoma history. Harjo knew Chapman personally, and the two collaborated on a documentary series about the city’s checkered past in the 2010s.
Harjo tapped Hawke (who guest starred in the final season of Rez Dogs) to play Lee from the jump, and it’s easy to see why: The actor seems to be possessed by the spirit of this stubborn, sensitive oddball, manic determination oozing from his pores as he trips over his own boots in pursuit of the truth. Lee is overbearing and unhinged, but Hawke plays him with an open, earnest charm that helps explain why the people in his life keep letting him off the hook.
The show also boasts a killer ensemble, which includes born-and-bred Tulsans (Nelson, Tripplehorn, Tracy Letts), Dogs alums (Horn, Jude Barnett, Macon Blair), familiar faces (MacLachlan, Hitchcock, Peter Dinklage), and even the next vampire slayer (Armstrong). Each actor adds a unique flavor to the stew: As Dale, Nelson both figuratively and literally haunts the narrative, appearing at Lee’s side whenever he comes across a bit of writing Dale left behind. His performance is the perfect balance of quirky and tragic. And it’s a treat to see MacLachlan play against type as a charismatic capitalist with sinister intentions.
Tripplehorn is fantastic as Betty Jo, a web of contradictions who smokes like a chimney. She and Hawke make for an electric duo when Lee tries to sound Betty Jo out, only for her to surprise him. Meanwhile, David’s Marty is a great foil for Lee, with the twoshrewd investigators with entirely different MOs sharing a grudging respect. Armstrong holds her own among all these vets, too. As written, Francis risks coming off as your archetypal plucky teen, but the 15-year-old actor has a subtler take that can keep viewers guessing. She and Horn’s Sam bring out a side of Lee that tells us more about the guy than expository flashbacks. And while Hitchcock, Render, and East’s brands of comedy are quiete different, they’re all at home in Harjo’s world, where weirdos of all stripes are welcome.
Though The Lowdown wears its influences on its sleeve—think Shane Black’s The Nice Guys, Paul Thomas Anderson’s Inherent Vice, and pretty much any Coen brothers movie—it never comes off as derivative. That’s because it’s steeped in specificity, from the production design (you may want to pause scenes in the bookstore to read the spines of vintage paperbacks) to the world-building. Every character on the show feels realized, even if we only see them in glimpses. In fact, it’d be easy to watch an entire spin-off about the bumbling ex-cons who keep watch outside Hoot Owl (played by Cody Lightning and Jude Barnett) or Flavia Carbone’s mysterious bruja who sets up shop on a poacher’s houseboat.
With Rez Dogs, Harjo established himself as a new voice on TV, painting a portrait of a community that’s seldom represented onscreen. He brings that same downbeat humor and fascination with society’s underdogs to The Lowdown while also proving himself incredibly adept at modern noir. Like Lee, he approaches his subject with a love of humanity that shines through every frame like Oklahoma sunlight.
