Though Apple TV+’s ‘Presumed Innocent’ inherited much of its narrative from the eponymous 1990 movie, based on Scott Turow’s novel, the direction it takes is significantly divergent. The original tale ended with Rusty Sabich (played by Harrison Ford), his romantic indiscretions absolved of any relation to Carolyn Polhemus’ death, painfully recognizing his wife Barbara’s role in the murder. Barbara (portrayed by Bonnie Bedelia) confesses to having acted out of fierceness, rooted in jealousy and the preservation of her family.
Despite her crime, Rusty knows that he is powerless to retaliate against Barbara, both for their son’s sake and due to the impracticality of a second, closely associated trial. He reluctantly accepts his complicity in Carolyn’s untimely demise, having been the catalyst that fueled his wife’s violent envy.
A similar narrative unfolds in the recent television adaptation. Rusty, interpreted by Jake Gyllenhaal, is absolved for a second time. An ensuing clash with Barbara, now personified by Ruth Negga, becomes the crucible for a painful revelation. He confesses his awareness of her culpability in Carolyn’s death, an intuition he had had from the moment he first saw Carolyn’s lifeless body.
In a startling deviation from the original plot, Rusty reveals his complicity in the cover-up, having staged the entire crime scene to safeguard his wife. While this disclosure sends a shiver of horror through Barbara, linked inexorably to her ostensible crime, a third character is revealed as the real murderer.
Barbara isn’t the culprit. The shocking truth is that their daughter, Jaden (Chase Infiniti), had carried out the gruesome act. Initially blackened by a cloud of betrayal and jealousy, her tumultuous confrontation with Carolyn about the affair escalated fatally when Carolyn announced her pregnancy with Rusty’s child.
In a fit of unrestrained rage, Jaden caused Carolyn’s demise using a fireplace poker as her weapon. The series ends with the family pledging to keep the murder a secret, bound by their familial ties and a sense of duty to nurture a collective love. It’s an eerie transition to a montage virtually celebrating their close-knit family life.
However, amidst the seemingly cheerful closure, one character is left in the abyss: Carolyn Polhemus (Renate Reinsve), whose life was prematurely extinguished. An opportunity to layer depth into Carolyn’s character was squandered, her portrayal reduced to a mere plot device, and the audience is left to wonder what else could have been.
Rather than highlighting the morally challenging position Rusty finds himself in, facing the guilt and isolation stemming from the murder of his paramour, the narrative instead champions the family’s unflinching resolve to protect their seemingly good-natured child. The disregard towards Carolyn’s murder and the subsequent cover-up paints a glaringly emotionless picture.
This perspective severally undermines Carolyn as a person and victim, making her appear insignificant. The primary narrative focus is maintained on the familial unit’s survival and well-being, trivializing Carolyn’s brutal murder in favor of a happy ending.
Despite the problematic storyline, the series has elements that are commendable. The performances of several renowned actors contribute significantly to its appeal. Jake Gyllenhaal, Ruth Negga, Peter Sarsgaard, and O-T Fagbenle impressively maneuver through their respective roles, making the series a moderately enjoyable watch.
Nevertheless, the series loses momentum midway, falling prey to the familiar pitfall many shows of its ilk encounter. This conundrum finds resonance in James Poniewozik’s concept of ‘Mid TV’, coined in the New York Times, pertaining to shows that offer comfort while failing to achieve greatness.
The series’ conclusion leaves much to desire, largely due to its preferential emphasis on maintaining traditional narrative twists and turns. The overly used trope of ‘the teenager did it’ to resolve complex family dynamics is disappointingly conventional.
Rather than effectively challenging the inherent sexism of the original story, it brings forth a newly packaged version of the same issue. Presenting a woman as ruthlessly ambitious and willing to sacrifice her integrity is as problematic as rendering her existence meaningless.
Depicting Carolyn’s murder as a stepping stone towards the strengthening of familial ties, and then hastily moving on from it, is a profound disrespect to her character’s humanity. In effect, it reduces her to a mere object in the story, robbing her of any significance or sympathy.
Carolyn Polhemus merits a more sensitive portrayal. Her essence was gradually lost from the narrative, her trajectory reduced to mere prop use to advance the plot. The careless handling of her character’s importance poses a significant concern for the series’ narrative direction and highlights an unfulfilled deviation from the original story.