Just as the opening scene in the pilot of “Breaking Bad” was a flash forward with sirens blaring in the background as a man in “tighty whities” underwear is in desperate circumstances that will only make sense down the road, the opening scene in the pilot of the Hulu crime comedy series “Deli Boys” is a flash forward with sirens blaring in the background as a man in tighty whities underwear is in desperate circumstances that will only make sense down the road.
The other similarity between the two series: Both are centered on ordinary, law-abiding figure(s) who get involved in the drug trade on an increasingly large scale.
As for the differences: It’s stacking the deck to compare any new project to one of the greatest series in the history of television, but as much as I admired the talents of the ensemble cast in “Deli Boys” and appreciated the more effective gags, there’s something off-putting and unnerving about a comedy series in which the leads are moving massive amounts of cocaine through the neighborhoods in their hometown, and they don’t seem the least bit bothered by the damage and destruction this will cause to hundreds of families.
To be sure, there are consequences to their actions; blood is spilled on a regular basis throughout the 10-episode run of the first season. And yes, some of the most memorable series of all time have centered on hardcore criminals who do terrible things, from “The Wire” to “The Sopranos” to “Breaking Bad” to “Dexter” to “Peaky Blinders.”
But whereas a series such as “Breaking Bad” served constant reminders of the horrific nature of the business — e.g., Todd Alquist shooting a young boy who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time or Jesse’s girlfriend Jane choking to death on her own vomit after overdosing — “Deli Boys” favors a breezy tone that unfortunately leaves a bad taste.
Still, the series is not without its assets. Set in Philadelphia but filmed in and around Chicago in locales including the Cinespace Studios in North Lawndale, McKinley Park, Essence of India in Lincoln Square and Shalimar Banquets in Addison, “Deli Boys” is an admirable example of South Asian representation, as it centers around the Pakistani American brothers Mir and Raj Dar (Asif Ali and Saagar Shaikh) and consistently highlights authentic cultural touchstones.
Mir is hardworking, straight-laced and eager to please their immigrant father (Iqbal Theba), a self-made businessman who owns 40 delis across the Delaware Valley, while Raj is a hedonist with zero ambition who is quite content to sponge off the family wealth and spend his days and nights getting wasted. After their Baba dies in a freak golfing accident, the brothers are shocked to learn the family’s deli empire was actually a front for a criminal enterprise that included the distribution of cocaine.
Suddenly, these two bumbling and naive siblings find themselves in charge of the operation, at least temporarily, which results in a madcap series of hijinks and more than a few episodes of violence. Ali and Shaikh have an instant brotherly chemistry together and manage to make their characters endearing, even though they’re corrupt idiots.
The outstanding supporting cast is led by Poorna Jagannathan, who is spectacularly good as the brothers’ “Lucky Auntie,” a formidable figure who doesn’t flinch at doing whatever it takes to keep the business running. (At one point Lucky asserts herself by deadpanning, “Girl power, you go girl, all that crap.”)
The wonderful character actor Brian George is Ahmad, who believes he should be the one running things. Kevin Corrigan, whose experience in crime stories dates all the back to playing Ray Liotta’s younger brother in “Goodfellas” in 1990, is the crime boss Chickie Lozano, while Tim Baltz is the incompetent regional director of the FBI, Alexandra Ruddy is a young FBI agent hoping to make her bones by bringing down the Dar family, Alfie Fuller is Raj’s girlfriend and shaman, Prairie, and Zainne Saleh is Mir’s fiancé, Bushra.
The cast is universally terrific, the writing is often crisp and witty — but the blood-spattered shtick grows a bit tiresome and repetitive, and we can never quite shake that feeling that even in a dark comedy, drug dealing just isn’t funny.