Set against the backdrop of wealth and excess, in a country undergoing massive political strife, Expats is the kind of smart, understated drama that is so focused on character that its minimalism can feel overwhelming.
It doesn’t help that said characters, mostly the ultra-wealthy and privileged, are more or less insufferable. They can’t see past their well-groomed noses. But that’s the point, it’s not the people we’re here to identify with, but rather their problems. The series asks, how does someone so isolated from reality act when reality forces its way into their lives?
Nicole Kidman plays Margaret, a woman stripped of everything she once had that made her who she is. A former landscape architect, now housewife, with nothing but time on her hands in a country she doesn’t understand. A mother of once three, now two children. What happened to the third forms the heart-wrenching spine of the tale.
There is Hilary, played by Sarayu Blue, a daughter of a cynical and overpowering mother, whose marriage is falling apart. Perhaps, she thinks, a child will save it, even if she doesn’t believe it entirely.
Their lives are further entangled by Mercy (Ji-young Yoo), a selfish, lost, and insecure young woman who, like Hilary and Margaret, has fled to Hong Kong to escape from herself.
Showrunner Lulu Wang directs all episodes of the series, and writes two, which incidentally are the best ones in the season. The rest are no means bad, and especially the second episode, written by Alice Bell, stands out as a fantastic play on dramatic irony. In it, Bell and Wang play with audience expectations by rewinding time to before the tragedy that sets everything in motion.
Expats is an ambitious undertaking, one that is more successful in some areas than others. Its themes are broad, as is the satire. They go hand-in-hand with the central mystery of what happened to Margaret’s child, yet that itself feels like a different series altogether. There are moments of such tonal whiplash that it took me surprisingly long to recover from them. Where Wang’s previous film, The Farewell, was a gentle and loving experience, Expats isn’t afraid to slap its audience to make them pay attention.
Which is the point, even if it feels jarring. Margaret can’t come to terms with her loss of status and what she perceives as a failure of motherhood, and to placate her grief, she turns to drastic measures that are at odds with their sheltered, pristine life in a literal glass tower. Kidman’s performance is towering and easily the singular thing you can point to as a showcase for the series. There’s no easy path out of it for anyone. Grief comes and goes like the tide, and Kidman’s fury at her own helplessness is a terrifying, heartbreaking thing to behold.
Not that Sarayu Blue is any worse, far from it. As Hilary, her performance is more internalized, but you can sense the raging storm underneath the surface at all times. Like Margaret, Hilary’s life now revolves around a child that isn’t there. It’s a performance of expectation, disappointment, and a steadfast refusal to be honest to oneself, and Blue plays these emotions with great eloquence and depth.
At just 6 episodes, Expats feels both overwhelming and packed, yet not quite long enough to deliver a satisfying conclusion. The penultimate episode in the series, and Wang’s second written one, focuses entirely on the staff and the underprivileged people of Hong Kong, who live in the shadows of the great skyscrapers. It’s a staggering feat of writing and directing that, at 90 minutes in length, could serve as its own film.
But as a part of the series as a whole, it feels too removed from the big picture. As its own episode, especially when mixed with the season-long story about a missing child and the erosion of the family unit, it struggles to find a place. I found it as fascinating as it was frustrating.
In a longer series, or as an opener to a second season, the story would breathe better. Now, it’s so good that it distracts from an already good series, and both suffer from it.
Despite these issues, it would be silly not to recommend Expats. Few filmmakers today are as eloquent about the human condition as Wang, and rare few actors can portray grief as Kidman does. The combination of talent, both in front and behind the camera, makes for devastating results. They might be messy and sometimes unfocused results, but that’s what life is.
For those willing to endure some truly dark depths of sorrow, loss, and emotionally draining conflicts, Expats offers a smart, mature drama that never talks down to its audience. We should be so lucky to have a dozen more shows like it.