*MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR BOTH KINDRED NOVEL AND SERIES*
The teaser for FX's Kindred, opens on main character, Dana James (played to perfection by newcomer Mallori Johnson) plunged right into antebellum Maryland. Still in a fog, she sees a young white boy floating in a lake, unconscious. Luckily, she pulls him out and revives him. But rather than a “thank you,” she finds herself staring down the barrel of a gun. It's a direct riff on Octavia E. Butler’s titular novel which, after a prologue, opens with Dana, a young Black writer living in Los Angeles in 1976, being transported against her will back in time to a riverbank in Maryland in 1815 where a white child is drowning. Dana, in spite of the dizzying time travel that brought her there, leaps into action, immediately trying to save his life. In both, the scene is jarring and propulsive, setting the tone for what's to come with Kindred.
From the jump, FX’s adaptation had some clown sized shoes to fill: it needed to be faithful to Butler’s work, while simultaneously working hard to avoid venturing into trauma-porn territory via an endless display of Black people being beaten and brutalized. And, by placing Dana closer to the present day, rather than the 70's of the novel, it would have to contend with the new technologies that have come to define the American present—for those with the means to afford them—and how this might interact with the spectacle of a Black woman appearing in the present with grievous wounds on her body, and a hella suspicious acting white man at her side.
The novel's central, present-day focus was often placed on 70s-era racial politics. But FX's reimagining seems to parallel its conflict with domestic abuse instead. Present day Dana is often presented as panicked, on edge, wounded and even bloody, all of which she refuses to fully explain. And Kevin (Micah Stock), while well-meaning, is temperamental and alluded to have been a former addict (Possibly alcohol abuse. Possibly substance abuse. Likely both). So, those on the hunt for a radical take on modern racial, political, and cultural turmoil might leave this interpretation of Butler's work disappointed, feeling it dilutes a key aspect of the novel. I, however, actually enjoyed watching this shift play out. Dana make excuses for Kevin, apologize on his behalf, squirming in discomfort, all the while Dana's nosey neighbors and her uncle Alan (Charles Parnell) look on, not buying a single word.
Some Sour Grapes
Despite working with a team of executive producers that include Joe Weisberg and Joel Fields (notable for their work on The Americans) as well as filmmaker Darren Aronofsky (best know for surrealistic, often disturbing, psychological dramas), writer/showrunner Branden Jacobs-Jenkins, a relative newcomer to TV whose previous work as a playwright made him a Pulitzer finalist, makes it hard, at least at first, to figure out what kind of story the show is telling. Both in its pacing—the show aims for breakneck storytelling, but its more akin to story whiplash until at least episode 4—and, more notably, in its characters. One of the key changes in adapting the book for the screen is Kevin is no longer Dana's husband but her one night stand, turned two night stand, turned time hopping accomplice. But what's never super clear is why. Why isn't Kevin bolting the f out of there when he wakes to his hookup in a fit of lung-busting screams? Why does he continue to stick around after a stranger tries to convince him she's a time traveler? And why isn't he more concerned about her sudden black eye? And I found Dana's motivations to be equally vague. Nothing of the character or character's past suggests she would be inclined to save someones life without question or have the skills to make a splint for a broken leg, which she dismisses as "instinct" and "I saw it on TV" respectively. So, I do have to say the characters certainly leave something to be desired. Gone are the flashbacks of the formation of Dana and Kevin's relationship, from meet-cute to wedding bells with plenty of strife in between, and, as a result, so too goes a reason to root for these two people to be or stay together.
In his review of the adaptation, Malcolm Venable of Shondaland said, "the title "Kindred" is a clever red herring: While the core of the story is about Dana’s family ties, the real “kindred” are Dana and Kevin." And showrunner Jacobs-Jenkins seems to agree, as he too referred to the series as "A love story." I'm just not sure I felt the love. Perhaps, in Season 2? (The show ends at the conclusion of the book's fourth chapter, if you include the prologue, with four more to go.)
But, Does FX's Kindred Do Octavia Butler Dirty?
Maybe. With the OG story being as powerful as it is—I for sure appreciate it getting the hype it deserves—I do fear the FX version may detract from that power. The book is raw. At moments, a gut punch. And, arguably unintentionally, made a point about black people's place in speculative fiction. As Butler worked hard to earn recognition in the space herself, she was frequently pushed aside by the white men who dominated it (and hate to break it to you, still do). Over and over, she would be told that writing about Black characters made her story about race (as if writing about white ones did not), and that this prevented her from fitting into the norms of SFF. With this context in mind, I found the showrunners' decision to shift focus, slightly, away from race, a curious but informed one. I would even argue—and I'm probably going to get my head lobbed off for this—that Kindred isn't about race. (Don't get out your pitchforks yet!) While the book certainly depicts racial injustices, across the spectrum—Dana's family, friends and coworkers make it clear they disapprove of her dating a white man, and Kevin's sister has some, ahem, choice words about her brother marrying a Black woman—I'd argue its central themes are actually human nature and survival.
As I said earlier in this (way too long) review, Kevin is demoted from husband to booty call, which eliminates many of the novel's subplots and backstory on both Dana and Kevin's family's—and society as a whole's—reaction and response to simply seeing an interracial couple together, an act considerably less radical in 2016 (the new "present-day" in which the show is set) than it was in 1976. However, I can't deny I wouldn't have loved to see this addressed through a modern lens. Any person thats been in an interracial relationship, even in 2022, can attest that there's a certain nervousness that comes with meeting your significant other's parents, siblings, or friend group, especially if that friend group is homogenous. (Like, there's a reason I love Jordan Peele's Get Out.) Especially considering that while modern racism is certainly far less brutal than the antebellum south, and less insidious Jim Crow American, it's no less frustrating. And no less painful for those of us who have to routinely maneuver it.
Should You Watch It, Tho?
As a whole, and wholly divorced from the novel, I found the show mostly enjoyable. Not perfect, but a decent start with room to grow and great potential. And plenty to keep you engaged throughout all eight episodes. (And it doesn't over rely on relentless misery and whipping to make its point, which I personally appreciated). It was never going to live up to the book, so if that's you're expectation, either let it go... or go watch Amazon's Underground Railroad miniseries, based on a novel of the same name by Colson Whitehead, instead.
3.75/5 ⭐: Takes liberties with the source material but a mostly worthwhile watch nonetheless.
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