Prime Video’s Reacher Delivers More Action-Packed Escapist Fun in Immersive Second Season
Long live Jack Reacher, the distillation of all male fantasy
Photo Courtesy of Prime Video
We’re almost a month past Thanksgiving, but it’s time for some gratitude anyway: I’m thankful for all the times the character Jack Reacher (Alan Ritchson) is given the opportunity to deliver a righteous ass-kicking to the scum of the Earth. Even when he’s not on the job—sometimes, especially when he’s not on the job—he can’t walk down the street without some real honest-to-God low-life forcing him to go medieval. I can go years without having a truly tense encounter in public, but for Reacher, it has perpetually been zero days since he was last antagonized. I’m not sure how good this is for Reacher himself (he seems pretty well psychologically insulated, I think), but it’s absolutely great for me, because watching Reacher beat the hell out of someone is the vicarious experience of a lifetime, and I want to consume as much as I can stomach. The fact that the bad guys have absolutely no nuance—it’s always some loathsome ogre from central casting beating up a woman or threatening a kid—is even better, because while I’m forced to consider gray areas in real life, I fervently do not want that shit when it’s Reacher time.
In its second season, premiering today on Amazon Prime, Reacher proves once again that it’s not just a good show, but a great one. Eleven stars out of five. It is also—obviously—a really bad one. But its badness is absolutely flawless, ultimately only contributing to its greatness.
An example that won’t spoil too much: in an early episode this season, there comes a moment when Reacher and his crew have to guess a dead colleague’s password. The catch is, they only have two minutes and three guesses before the disk drive they’re trying to access destroys itself. That’s when Reacher, thinking quickly in the heat of the moment, delivers the funniest line of the season:
“Passwords come from deep down.”
No, dude—unless you’re an idiot, they’re a random string of letters, numbers, and symbols. Even the oldsters these days know to tack on a few digits to their grandson’s name. But in the Reacher universe, a password is a single word that comes from the heart, and after two failures, they figure out that it has to be the single entity the dead man revered the most. The payoff is superb, wonderful, hysterical: the password is “Reacher.”
We’re in, baby.
If all of this sound steeped in irony, it kind of is, but I’m dead serious in my praise too. It might look easy, but making an entertaining-as-hell show about male fantasies of retributive violence is not easy, or everybody would be doing it. I haven’t read the Reacher books, but I have no doubt my conclusion is the same—it’s probably not great literature, but it takes a certain kind of talent to write, and if any simpleton could do it, they would. Prime’s version of Reacher is aesthetic perfection, a dynamic balancing act that never tries to be more than what it should be, and that always manages to hit the sweet spot. I’m not saying it’s only for dudes, but I think we’re in safe territory saying it’s mostly for dudes, because if you’re not locked in to exactly what Reacher is selling on some intuitive level, you will likely think, with some justification, that it’s hot garbage. I recognize the variety within the heart and brain of every human, and not to get too gendered about things, but there is a reason I don’t like Hallmark movies. Reacher is my Hallmark movie.