I have just finished the first episode of this series in eight episodes newly available on Netflix, The Recruit (The Recruit), and I already like him a lot, this Owen Hendricks, a young Latin American lawyer, recruited by Walter Nyland, severe but just African-American boss of the CIA, played by Vondie Curtis-Hall. It is Noah Centineo who embodies the rookie. I could be wrong, but between Owen and Walter, it smacks of filial relationship full nose. While waiting to be officially adopted, Owen is hazed by two dirt intelligence, little bosses as bad as bad. Despite this, Owen shows them who the genie is. He does everything better than everyone else, his risky initiatives pay off, and always without violence. From the most thankless tasks entrusted to him, he brings up the most threatening plots for the security of the United States.
Not a show-off for two cents, he shares his apartment with his ex (but they are still in love without admitting it) and Terence, an African-American who walks around in shorts half the time. apartment This fashion plate is narcissistic and therefore gay, but hey, the way Americans pronounce the word “cliché” is so endearing that we forgive them for the abuse they make of it. We are about to leave the road when Terence lies on top of Owen, back from his first mission in Yemen where he had his fingernail pulled out. But no, it won’t go any further, this big compassionate hug serving to tick the box gay-friendly. Nada mas.
At minute 27, small air hole in the episode. I take this opportunity to find out about this Noah Centineo who invades the screen a little. He made his television debut in 2009, at the age of 13, as the star of The Gold Retrievers (gold fang in VF). Partly hidden and marred by a voluminous Ringo hairstyle (Sheila’s, not the Beatles’), Noah revealed a resourceful face, and, under his canary yellow terrycloth sweatshirt, a natural athletic body that made people fantasize the kids and pedophiles of this blessed time when Obama had just been elected president. At 16, the little gold digger leaves his native Florida and abandons his studies to conquer Hollywood. Apparently, it is done, since, after ten years of irresistible rise in the hierarchy marvelous of Disney Channel, it finds co-producer of The Recruit.
Now that I know all that, will I look at the end of the episode with a less complacent eye? Not sure. I also do not guarantee to go until the end. That’s good, because I discovered that the AlloCiné site censored comments revealing the end of the films, or the name of the assassin. The critically correct is in place: spoiler will soon be a crime.
At minute 37 of the third episode, Owen took the lead. He is sent to Beirut. His plane flies over the Grotte aux Pigeons, a drone follows their car through this martyred city which, seen from up there, is reminiscent of Santa Barbara. Hollywood doesn’t give a damn about reality as much as reality. As for the truth, it has always been indexed to the film’s budget. Owen sticks his head through the door to breathe the air of the capital of kibbeh nayyeh, he then has this comment: Really, I can feel the history, here. And that’s when I see which other American actor he reminds me of from the start: Mark Ruffalo. It’s his little brother. Same massive morphology, same nascent fat coating a nonchalant and superior modesty. He has this deceptively naïve stubbornness that made Mark Ruffalo, in spotlight, an irreproachable hunter of pedophile priests. Noah Centineo could take up the purifying torch.
Nevertheless, if something more shocking hasn’t happened before the end of this third episode, I’m going back to reading The Death of Danton by Georg Büchner. I know how it ends. I spoil myself with impunity.