Prime Target “A New Pattern” & “Syracuse”
Written by Stephen Thompson
Directed by Brady Hood
New episodes premiere Wednesdays on Apple TV+
Prime Target, Apple TV+’s latest foray into the conspiracy thriller genre, is one of most unassumingly strange, miscalculated new drama series of recent memory, a mix of tones, performances, and narrative that, in its first two episodes, never finds harmony in its dissonant pieces – or, more importantly, is ever willing to pause and wonder whether its drab, trope-laden approach was the right tone for a series about dickhead, privileged nerds trying to unravel conspiracy theories using the powers of math and technology. Somewhere deep underneath its drab, poorly-lit surface is an interesting series, something of a spiritual companion to films like Conspiracy Theory or A Beautiful Mind (with shades of The Accountant thrown in for good measure); unfortunately, Prime Target‘s inability to access that potential makes for an incredibly frustrating – and more irreconcilably, an interminably boring, watch.
At first glance, Prime Target seems a layup for some quality filler entertainment, following post-graduate math prodigy Edward Brooks as his world of spiral shapes and math theory are suddenly upended, when his research suddenly disappears and his mentor turns up dead. But Prime Target puts way too much faith in its audience to be drawn in by the suggestion of international espionage and intrigue, rather than an actual portrayal of it; the first 90 minutes of the series are essentially a mosaic of disconnected bread crumbs, held together by an incredibly obnoxious (and yet somehow lifeless) main character, and a spattering of supporting performances begging for a more engaging, dynamic thoroughline to tether themselves to.
Edward is the stem of the show’s issues, a stereotype-laden protagonist written as if the series were more-serious, academic spinoff of The Good Doctor. Edward, quite frankly, is just an asshole, the kind of character whose tolerance by others is only attributed to his uncanny ability to do math – which in these first two episodes, amounts to a few silent moments of him scribbling aimlessly in a notebook, or in one ‘ dramatic’ instance, a tablecloth. We’re told that Edward is an interesting character; but as he blows off his best friend’s birthday and dismisses a one-night stand so he can “get back to work” on his little number doodles, Edward is a character whose egregious behavior is assumedly justified by the plot, in where his rejected research becomes the focal point (presumably) of a globe-trotting conspiracy – except the first two episodes never accomplish this, thanks to a leaden performance from Leo Woodall, whose long stares an uncomfortable weight shifts are nods towards a pathos the series never establishes with any kind of conviction in its opening hour, before its second episode begins to unravel those barely-established realities.
In theory, a series about a global conspiracy where NSA officers set up remote offices in France to watch British mathematics professors through their fire alarms should be a pretty easy series to build some intrigue out of. A series like that, of course, needs to take the time to establish compelling characters and engaging dramatic stakes; instead, Prime Target offers up two hours of dramatic dick-teasing, desperately offering up one trope-y mystery plot after another, without ever presenting any sort of compelling connective tissue between the two. The second episode introduces Tayla (an underutilized Quintessa Swindell), a young NSA engineer who finds herself observing the events of the first episode as they play out across surveillance cameras; but though Tayla’s plot and its quick dramatic escalation are presented as integral pieces of plot and character, neither are defined in context of Edward and his self-righteous quest to find his secret math notebook – there’s an inkling of why Tayla is introduced with such prominence in “Syracuse”, but Prime Target barrels along without doing the legwork of introducing that into the show’s text, or by convincingly grounding her character in anything the audience can invest in.
What it amounts to is a series with an incredibly undercooked main plotline, and a whole lot of interesting supporting actors – led by Sidse Babett Knudsen, Daivd Morrissey, Stephen Rea and Joseph Mydell (Marta Plimpton and Harry Lloyd are in the cast, but don’t appear in these two episodes) – delivering better performances in scenes with almost nothing to do. Everything in Prime Target‘s first two hours is ultimately in service of an entirely obscured, hidden plot; any hints of intrigue or interest are toned down by the show’s drab visual style and poor pacing, which quickly turns this show into a series very slowly moving through a series of underwhelmingly familiar character archetypes and plot points. Anyone hoping Prime Target might find its way closer to something along the lines of say, Limitless (particularly the second half of that show’s only season, which grew increasingly serialized as it went along), are going to find their eyes glazing over with Edward’s selfish bullshit and the show’s sloppy, unearned imitation of prestige drama driving the show’s voice (for example, the repetitive spiral visual metaphor, which becomes eye-rollingly obvious halfway through the first episode).
As the first season of Prime Target continues and presumably widens its scope to start telling its real story, one can hope the series would begin to recalibrate itself a bit more towards the unhinged fringes of its narrative, which involve ancient Iraqi tombs, scribbled math on prestigious college chalkboards, and a wholly unlikable protagonist. In its current form, though, Prime Target‘s issues are only going to compound itself, driven by its leaden dialogue (at one point, someone says “math nerds are the most dangerous people on the planet”, a line that is never reflected upon, either for serious or satirical measure) and flavorless mush of characters costumed in neutral colors. In its current form, Prime Target is a complete miscalibration, criminally forgettable and unnervingly straightforward, a thriller devoid of almost any engaging characters or creative elements that would endear an audience to return for more episodes, or seasons, of the series.