Based on the novel by Marissa Stapley and telly-ised by screenwriter/creator Jonathan Tropper, Lucky is a rip-roaring tale of dysfunctional criminal families, enlivened by a batch of splendid performances from an excellent cast. Front and centre is Lucky herself (full name Luciana Armstrong), a compulsive thief and skilled con artist, played quite brilliantly by Anya Taylor-Joy.
As it happens, Lucky is the daughter of another inveterate criminal, her father John Armstrong, and as we see in various flashbacks, she was (as Joni Mitchell put it) raised on robbery. As she admits, her situation is the result of "a series of bad decisions over an extended period of time."
As the action opens John is in prison, though he’s very laid-back and laconic about his situation. He’s played with nonchalant charm by Timothy Oliphant (pictured left), as if he doesn’t have a care in the world despite the constant soundtrack of jail doors slamming. He’s happy to shoot the breeze with his daughter down the phone, offering a little philosophical advice even while she’s on the run from dogged FBI agent Billie Rand (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, pictured below).
The story kicks off with an adrenalin-packed scene in a Las Vegas hotel, where Lucky and her boyfriend Carey (Drew Starkey) are celebrating the acquisition of a suitcase full of money. However, Lucky’s euphoria vanishes when she wakes up in the morning to find that Carey has scarpered with the loot, having slipped a mickey finn into her drink. But she can’t spend too long reeling with shock and disbelief, because the FBI are combing the hotel in pursuit of her.
Her ingenious escape from the clutches of the feds clues us into how cool, smart and quick-thinking she is, such as the way she nimbly exploits a sympathetic truck-driver by playing the damsel-in-distress card. It’s a trait that’s repeated several times throughout the show, particularly in a bravura scene where she gate-crashes a swanky children’s birthday party and helps herself to an entire new wardrobe – designer dress, shoes, jewellery, not to mention the keys to the family Audi (she even tips the valet parking guy as she’s getting into the car). As well as rifling through other women’s handbags, she also remembers a useful hint from her dad, that the birthday cards unaccompanied by presents are the ones which have money inside.
But despite the outrageous cheek and ingenious interludes, there’s a dark shadow hanging over Lucky in the shape of Carey’s mother, Priscilla Masterson, who’s also on her trail. Despite her camouflage as an upstanding member of the community, Priscilla also happens to be a ruthless career criminal who has apparently amassed millions thanks to a racket selling gasoline at outrageously inflated prices. The role gives Annette Bening (pictured below) a delicious opportunity to play cold, calculating malice concealed behind a facade of matronly respectability (she keeps a monstrous individual called Dutch in her employ to do the dirty work of killing, torturing etc).
And yet, Priscilla seems almost a pussycat when compared to the blood-freezing ruthlessness of Wayne Whittaker (played with sneering cruelty by William Fichtner). It’s Wayne, it seems, who was the original owner of the missing millions (ten of ’em, in fact), and this is a man who wouldn’t hesitate to disembowel his own mother (never mind someone else’s) to recoup his lost fortune. Once upon a time he and Priscilla were a thing, but all they’ve got left is spite and animosity.
As if all this wasn’t enough, there are a few mysterious shenanigans going on inside the FBI, who it seems are not always the upstanding guardians of probity and the law that they would have us believe. However, Ellis-Taylor’s portrayal of Agent Rand is another treasurable ingredient of the story, where her implacable determination to catch bad guys is balanced by a rough-hewn sense of right and wrong, despite interference from certain senior officers.
In short, it’s terrific. It even has a satisfying conclusion, which isn’t something every TV drama can claim.
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