‘Class of ’09’ Review: Hulu’s Time-Hopping FBI Drama Lacks the Courage of Its Convictions

10.05.2023 19:00

IndieWire.com

Starring Kate Mara and Brian Tyree Henry, the limited series follows FBI agents across their past, present, and future at a Bureau altered by artificial intelligence.

Before we even meet the class of 2009 in “Class of ’09,” we’re in the year 2034 being introduced to Tayo Michaels (Brian Tyree Henry), who — according to a news chyron — is the director of the FBI. Soon after, when we’re in what the show’s chyrons repeatedly call “The Past,” we learn Tayo is, surprise surprise, a member of the titular class, and he’s struggling to pass a physical at Quantico — a physical he must complete in order to become an FBI agent.

So… are we meant to think the future FBI Director really isn’t going to graduate? Should we be wondering if he only made it into the Bureau because of special treatment? Or, assuming the flash-forward is meant to steer attention away from if he graduates and toward how he graduates, should we be focused on the casual discrimination he faces from one of his fellow students? Hmm… maybe our knowledge of his ascension to the top job in the FBI is meant to better acknowledge how his past and our past are linked, but our future, unlike his, remains open? That we can rewrite this country’s law enforcement agenda and create a better future, especially after seeing what happens to ol’ Tayo in this show?

Come to think of it: Are these even the questions we should be asking during the first few hours of Hulu’s weighty limited series? Suspense thrillers are fun and all, but when dealing with topics like institutional corruption, privacy violations, and government overreach — not to mention the very purpose of the FBI, if not all cops, in a country steadily demanding more and more police reform — should we not, at least, be given more to think about than when events are happening and why? Maybe, just maybe, the show’s three timelines are merely a narrative device that substitutes confusion for mystery, as a means to fabricate audience engagement?

After screening four of the eight total episodes, it’s impossible to confirm what motivates “Class of ’09’s” wonky structure, but it’s unlikely I’ll ever find out. Hulu’s time-hopping cop drama comes across as the kind of prestige play that sounds significant on paper, but can’t translate the potential of its premise (and cast) to anything substantial onscreen. Instead, it cloaks its lack of ideas in routine observations, hedged opinions, and too many timelines. Written by Tom Rob Smith (who implemented a similarly ambitious yet detrimental design on “American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace”), “Class of ’09” may eventually put all its pieces together to form a coherent position on federal law enforcement (or find a compelling central story), but its first half is too frustrating and empty to justify continued viewing.

The year is 2009. Ashley Poet (Kate Mara) pulls up to Quantico prepared to embark on a new chapter in her career. Once a psychiatric nurse, Poet (everyone calls her Poet, because how could you not?) was invited to join the FBI after helping one of her patients divulge information about a major case. Now, she wants to do some good, starting with her suite-mate, Hour (Sepideh Moafi), a socially awkward person (probably because she’s named Hour) who loves data, especially if it can help eliminate human bias (like the discrimination her family faced as American immigrants from Iran).

Also in the class are Lennix (Brian J. Smith), a prototypical nepo baby who Poet crushes on, Tayo, who we already know becomes director of the FBI, and Murphy (Jake McDorman), an ex-cop from Salt Lake City who immediately promises Poet they’ll have a great friendship before not being seen or heard from again (through the first four episodes, at least). Training is hard. Each one of them is scrutinized and not just during drills. Teachers (played by Brooke Smith and Jon Jon Briones) are always watching, always judging, and always ready to send people packing.

The year is 2023. Poet & Co. have, indeed, been sent packing, but only because they graduated and are now official FBI Agents. While Hour is developing A.I. algorithms to help predict behavior (someone saw “Minority Report”) and Tayo is interrogating domestic terrorists, Poet has become a hotshit undercover officer, exposing corruption in local police precincts. But when she’s asked to apply her skills a little closer to home, the answers she uncovers may not help those closest to her.

The year is 2034. Poet has a bionic eye. She asks Tayo if she’s being followed, and he tells her, “You’re being protected.” The FBI’s use of advanced artificial intelligence has led to one of the steepest declines in criminal activity in U.S. history. But the latest target given to Poet argues the Bureau’s reach has gone too far — and there are secrets even she doesn’t know about.

That last point is both easy to believe, given how vague “Class of ’09” can be when it comes to what everyone but Poet is actually doing at work, and difficult to fathom, considering how eager it seems to share information by jumping around timelines. There are plenty more plot points that come up in the premiere than I’ve mentioned here, many of which could have been revealed more organically later on, likely for a stronger emotional effect. Still, the cold character development matches the series’ gloomy look. Scenes in the future are too barren and what seems intended to read as sleek comes across as cheap (or, at least, unimaginative). The past and present aren’t much better, as the wistful glimpses of sunlight and dulled blocks of color do little to distinguish one era from the next.

Maybe that’s the point. “Class of ’09” puts a dystopian lens on the FBI, it’s just hard to tell to what end. Poet and her classmates observe and endure clear violations of personal privacy. They experience discrimination based on their sexuality, gender, and race. What’s missing, so far, is a distinct perspective on these issues, or even a dramatic story about people at the center of the storm. All the timeline maneuvering saps much of the series’ momentum, but to be fair, Tayo’s journey from trainee to director isn’t a point of suspense. While I still don’t know how it resolves or why we’re experiencing his story in such disjointed, mundane fashion, Smith’s scripts don’t overemphasize the relevancy of his path to power.

It’s just that they also don’t invite us into Tayo’s life or elucidate his beliefs. Brian Tyree Henry is one of our most expressive, endearing actors, and yet — like the rest of the show around him — Tayo’s disposition is dialed so far down he feels robotic. His background is boilerplate. His choices are rote. For a series that, ostensibly, wants to engage with thorny issues tied to policing, Tayo is a character we’ve seen time and time again, in many other cop shows across many, many years. He may become more layered in the limited series’ back half, but for now, all there is to unpack in our co-lead stems from the effort it takes to put his timeline back in chronological order.

So enough. Please. Stop it with the multiple timelines. Of late, TV has a tendency to overindulge the structural device, but “Class of ’09” has enough on its plate already to bother with silly gimmicks. Or it should.