Splashes of Sincerity Help Make Peacock’s Twisted Metal Into A Surprisingly Solid Videogame Adaptation

For the last few decades or so, conversations around videogame adaptations have been stuck in a feedback loop, with endless speculation around what would be the first to shatter the curse that has apparently doomed these many projects to mediocrity. While a closer look reveals that this bad streak has arguably been broken many times before, HBO’s recent adaptation of The Last of Us and its twenty-something Emmy noms mark what will (hopefully) be the end of this relatively tedious discourse. In this context, we receive the latest live-action interpretation of a game, Twisted Metal, a project that benefits from not bearing the burden of being the “first good videogame adaptation.” Although its pilot doesn’t make the best impression, and its crass humor can be grating, this action-comedy eventually slips into something of a groove, carving out surprisingly genuine moments amidst its deluge of irony and viscera.

We follow John Doe (Anthony Mackie), a driver who delivers packages between the walled cities of a divided post-apocalyptic America. A few decades ago, a power grid failure threw the country into a state of disrepair, leaving people either inside dystopian cities or out in the wastes where bandits and an assortment of freaky little guys roam free. As John makes a run to one such settlement, New San Francisco, he’s offered the deal of a lifetime: if he can complete a cross-country delivery, he’ll become one of the only outsiders ever granted citizenship. The only problem is that this road to a better life is filled with marauders piloting death machines, jack-booted cops, and a murderous clown in an ice cream truck.

Although this setup may sound vaguely similar to HBO’s previously mentioned end-of-the-world survival story that is also based on a popular Sony-owned game franchise, Twisted Metal’s tone and delivery couldn’t be more removed from its critically-acclaimed cousin. By contrast, this series is defined by an endless barrage of quips drenched in buckets of blood, full of shock humor that pokes fun at the extreme violence associated with this style of post-apocalyptic fiction.

Writer and showrunner Michael Jonathan Smith (Cobra Kai) channels the devil-may-care attitude of other loud pseudo-parodies like Deadpool or Zombieland, which makes sense because the lead writers on those pictures, Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick, serve as Executive Producers here. Up front, that particular brand of reflexively sarcastic ultraviolence is overpowering to the point of irritation, and the pilot episode offers little to hold onto outside of its macabre gags. Here, John kills his way through a group of would-be raiders with the detached glee of a videogame protagonist, the gory details a punchline that fell flat. However, even as its jokes stay a little mean-spirited throughout, this story eventually takes more interest in its central characters, establishing a much-needed reason to care about its slapstick escapades.

As John makes his way to his destination, he runs into Quiet (Stephanie Beatriz), a fellow wastelander who is reeling from the loss of her brother after a run-in with the sadistic police officer Agent Stone (Thomas Haden Church). While John and Quiet’s initial exchanges are essentially a steady string of expletives, the two slowly open up about their pasts, imbuing their motivations with much-needed nuance. John is desperate to end up inside a walled city and find some form of family because his amnesia leaves him without even the memories of his long-gone relatives, and Quiet’s past experiences amplify her grief and guilt, driving her towards revenge.