The Waterfront tries—and fails—to capture Ozark's spirit

The Waterfront bears a distinct resemblance to Ozark, another Netflix original that hinged on a reckless family’s illegal shenanigans. While the Brydes ran a drug smuggling operation from a casino in Missouri in that Emmy winner, The Waterfront‘s Buckleys supply cocaine through their massive fishery business in a coastal North Carolina town. And the members of this clan also communicate with acrimony and anger, ready to betray or save their loved ones as the show’s trope-laden plots and predictable twists dictate.   

This series tries very hard to be gritty when, in fact, it is stuffed with melodrama. The soapy flair is likely courtesy of creator Kevin Williamson, who also brought us Dawson’s Creek and The Vampire Diaries, YA shows that thrived on cheesy dialogue, characters, and relationships. These elements don’t transfer well to a wannabe serious tale that touches on themes about moral and financial corruption, PTSD, and intergenerational trauma over eight hour-long episodes. Hell, a man is almost fed to sharks in the premiere—and no, that is not the last torture scene involving aquatic creatures. 

These conflicting tones don’t allow most of the actors to fine-tune their performances, with many of them feeling like they’re on different shows. It’s jarring to see older son Cane (an unconvincing Jake Weary) trapped in a mind-numbing Joey-Pacey-Dawson love triangle with his wife and ex, while his sister Bree (Melissa Benoist) struggles with the shattering consequences of her substance abuse. Ironically, Bree’s family of smugglers continually chastise her about her inability to stay sober but put her in charge of training their restaurant’s new bartender. That makes total sense, huh? Plus, her teen son is obnoxious, her ex is on a warpath, her current boyfriend is complicated, and she’s still getting over a tragic childhood incident while being emotionally isolated from her own parents. Suffice it to say, there is too much going on with her. 

Still, she is The Waterfront‘s most layered character. And Benoist’s commanding screen presence makes it easy to get invested in Bree’s roller-coaster journey. The Supergirl actor is unflinching in the depiction of the physical and mental toll of recovery and self-discovery, whether it’s through a complete breakdown, a rage-fueled outburst, or heartfelt one-on-ones with her kid, an annoying TV teen à la Homeland and 24. But unfortunately, and similar to last year’s atrocious The Girls On The Bus, Benoist alone cannot elevate this material.