Crime thrillers have graced our television screens almost as long as television itself has existed. Whether it’s emotionally tormented detectives rooting out evildoers in grimy urban cities or preternaturally insightful investigators sniffing around cozy, quirky English villages, the crime genre — both procedural and narrative-driven — has evolved into one of the most reliable options for studios to produce and a fictional category always ripe for reinvention. Yet despite the genre’s oddly comforting draw, too few series have dared to interrogate widespread police corruption, especially its inescapably dangerous prevalence within the United States. Fewer still commit to humanizing some of the underrepresented and misunderstood minority groups deliberately forgotten by law enforcement and politicians alike: sex workers, unhoused individuals, working-class families, people struggling with substance abuse, and young, impressionable girls who are vulnerable to predators wearing the uniform of a protector.
Peacock’s new miniseries Long Bright River is the exception to the norm. Based on the bestselling and critically acclaimed novel by Liz Moore and adapted for the screen by showrunner Nikki Toscano (with Moore as a co-writer), Long Bright River draws from Moore’s personal experiences with Kensington, a Philadelphia neighborhood drastically affected by deindustrialization and gentrification, as well as Moore’s family’s history with addiction. By and large, Long Bright River avoids the pitfalls and propaganda associated with procedurals by centralizing the aforementioned groups most affected by Kensington’s economic decline. The series also sits at the intersection of America’s ongoing opioid crisis and the nation’s stark class divide, while also taking the time to overturn the damaging white savior narrative — and conveys all these intricacies through a riveting love story between two broken sisters.
What Is ‘Long Bright River’ About?

Each day, police officer Mickey Fitzpatrick (Amanda Seyfried) patrols her beat in Kensington. Her reserved disposition and passion for music don’t seem to fit her profession, but at least her shifts allow her to drop off and pick up her eight-year-old son, Thomas (Callum Vinson), from one of Kensington’s better schools — the same one Mickey can no longer afford after Thomas’ absent father suddenly and irrevocably cuts off both his child support funds and Thomas’ tuition payments.
Kensington itself doesn’t fare any better. The same streets Mickey trod as a child have been ravaged by opioids and poverty. Resources are scarce and assistance even scarcer, leaving businesses, housing areas, and the individuals living hand-to-mouth to fester. But unlike virtually all of her white male colleagues, Mickey can name every sex worker her car passes. Some she knows from her school days, and the rest she recognizes because of her simple decision to care about them as human beings. The police department’s disdain for the people they’re supposed to serve comes into razor-sharp focus when Mickey learns a potential serial killer is hunting sex workers. Neither her boss nor her co-workers show any inclination to devote the resources necessary to investigate a rapidly growing number of suspicious deaths — they just dismiss these women as nameless overdoses.
The case immediately becomes more personal for Mickey once she discovers that her younger sister, Kacey (Ashleigh Cummings), vanished around the same time the murders began. The Fitzpatrick sisters once swore to watch one another’s backs as long as they lived, until Kacey’s relapses into substance addiction drove them apart. Now, the usually by-the-book Mickey risks her career desperately searching for Kacey and the man — or men — targeting the sex worker community. Willing to follow Mickey into hell is her old partner, Truman Dawes (Nicholas Pinnock), who’s still on medical leave following an incident Mickey carries immense guilt about.
‘Long Bright River’ Handles Substance Abuse With Impressive Care

Image via Peacock

Long Bright River pulls double duty as a multi-generational family saga and a suspenseful, socioeconomic thriller. Mickey and Kacey’s estranged relationship defines the series’ narrative thread; from the time they were lost, fragile girls raised by their brusque grandfather (John Doman), there has never been a moment when Mickey hasn’t worn herself to shreds worrying about Kacey. Consequently, the one constant in Mickey’s life is her need to fight: fighting the systematic prejudice against minority groups, fighting the discriminatory and punitive justice system, and fighting the demons of her past — the majority of which assume Kacey’s shape.
Using this sibling framing as a jumping-off point, Long Bright River unflinchingly contends with the excruciating trauma of loving someone who struggles with addiction. Moore lays out questions lacking all-encompassing answers: how long do you give grace to someone who keeps relapsing, and when do you erect boundaries for your own sake? We can’t help but wonder if such a harrowing limit even exists — yet there’s only so much of ourselves we can pour into the same devastating cycle before we shatter beyond repair. And when we grieve over our suffering loved ones, isn’t our anger and disappointment misplaced? They are drowning, and they lack the resources and structure to keep their heads above water.
‘Long Bright River’ Boldly Confronts Police Corruption

Image via Peacock

In Long Bright River’s case, the police refuse to provide such essential, life-saving assistance. Mickey and Truman might strive to be “good, different” cops in a sea of their opposites, but their contributions within the system don’t matter when the institution rampantly oppresses minorities and uplifts white supremacist ideology. Corruption spills down from the top like crude oil — it’s impossible for two well-meaning characters to overthrow or redeem the racially driven violence, the exploitation of the vulnerable, and the malicious abuse of power.

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In keeping with this theme, Long Bright River subverts the toxic white savior narrative. Mickey the cop doesn’t need to play rescuer because the sex worker community protects their own while retaining their autonomy and dignity. However, it matters when Mickey the individual says the victims’ names, especially when no one else bothers. None of these women graduated from high school and decided to become financially destitute and addicted to opioids while living in a tent on the sidewalk. They have always been, and will forever remain, humans with shattered dreams and no other recourse. Even if they did choose their circumstances, they don’t deserve less compassion. Long Bright River’s supporting characters still exist as part of Kensington’s DNA and aren’t reduced to mere victims — even though society has tossed them to the wolves, and that abandonment viscerally shows.
If there’s one weakness to be found in this series (of which all eight episodes were provided for review), it’s the lack of Black and POC voices. Pinnock takes second billing as Truman, and both actor and character make for a phenomenal, empathetic, and socially resisting presence. Yet when it comes to affairs directly relevant to daily American life for Black individuals and people of color, Long Bright River lacks their perspectives. Presumably, Mickey is a white woman, so the story can deconstruct the white knight archetype, and this writer doesn’t possess first-hand knowledge of Kensington’s population demographic. Still, not including a more diverse ensemble seems like a fundamental oversight.
Amanda Seyfried’s Superb Performance Leads ‘Long Bright River’s Powerful Cast

Long Bright River’s directing team offers a refreshing twist on the moody prestige television feel by evoking old-fashioned realism. Kensington comes to life through naturalistic lighting and authentic set design; the mid-afternoon sun rolls over the battered buildings and the litter-covered streets, and lived-in interiors bask in warm orange hues. A touch of cool blue shading cloaks the bleak, deep shadows of a midnight alleyway, but the spill of the streetlamps ensures that both the actors’ faces and the action in which they partake are sufficiently lit. Long Bright River unfolds during the winter holidays, so strings of colorful Christmas bulbs accent the characters’ homes like a soft, inviting haven in between the series’ brutal dealings. Overall, Kensington feels like a character brought to its lowest — melancholy, desolate, and ruined, yet never frigid. The neighborhood sighs with weariness yet still radiates the history of Philadelphia’s culture: the Mummers, the murals, and the small businesses surviving despite inequality.
The ultimate success of Long Bright River rests squarely upon Seyfried’s shoulders, and this leading turn may have secured the actress a second Emmy. Her arresting performance both grounds the proceedings and hovers over them like an ominous storm cloud. Mickey’s eyes reflect a world of inner turmoil, as years of unspoken regret, heartbreak, and exhausted hope lurk behind her middle-distance gaze. It’s impossible to look away from Mickey lest we lose a tell-tale glimpse of her true heart, or just to appreciate the restless way Seyfried wields her posture down to her twitching fingers. Seyfried and Vinson share spectacular mother-son chemistry, with Vinson able to balance Thomas’ bright innocence and curious intellect with a heart attuned to his mother’s moods. Pinnock, meanwhile, is an absolute pleasure to watch, and his fraught yet sublime chemistry with Seyfried will have viewers rooting for their happy ending. Cummings plays haunted with note-perfect precision, whether it’s Kacey’s demons taking tragic root or the character’s resilient, steely backbone.
Long Bright River signals a paradigm shift in the crime genre that other series would be wise to follow. A remarkably gripping thriller and an exquisitely tender family drama, the series does its breathlessly daunting goals justice even though it lacks certain key viewpoints. When it comes to the perspectives it does highlight, this compact, delicate, and gut-wrenching limited series approaches exploited social groups with empathy and without judgment — a philosophy that should be mandatory, not the rare exception.
All eight episodes of Long Bright River premiere March 13 on Peacock.

Long Bright River

Long Bright River is a compact, delicate, and gut-wrenching limited series grounded by Amanda Seyfried’s arresting performance.

Release Date

March 13, 2025

Network

Peacock

Directors

Hagar Ben-Asher

Pros & Cons

Long Bright River prioritizes underrepresented minorities.
The series subverts the white savior trope and confronts police corruption.
Amanda Seyfried gives one of the best performances of her career.

The series lacks nuanced perspectives from the Black community and people of color.