You know the drill: a hungry upstart sets out to make a name for themselves in a competitive industry, building networks and battling the old guard. It’s a hallmark of the entrepreneurial narrative, repeated for the umpteenth time in the 10-part series Last King of the Cross, with an Underbelly-ish twist – in that the protagonist associates with various shadowy personalities. The series was inspired by the memoir of John Ibrahim, a nightclub owner whose brothers Sam and Michael are underworld figures, though John (an executive producer of the show) has never been accused of any crimes related to his brothers’ offences.
The show stars Lincoln Younes as Ibrahim and, in an early scene, dramatises the subject’s 1995 appearance at the Wood royal commission into New South Wales police corruption. It’s one of several short titbits the writers crowbar into the show’s introductory moments, seemingly unsure where to begin.
The first scene depicts John and his brother Sam (Claude Jabbour) tending to their father on his deathbed, before the narrative jumps back to show the brothers during the civil war in Lebanon circa 1978. Then it returns to western Sydney in 1993, with various shady-looking blokes congregating for their father’s funeral and Tim Roth’s crime boss Ezra Shipman offering condolences.
But the story doesn’t settle there. It then jumps ahead to the royal commission, then back to Kings Cross in 1987 – the fourth timeline change in less than seven minutes. When the camera descends on to a recreation of the Kings Cross strip – an actual set, constructed over 14 weeks in Sydney – you get the feeling this is where the show always wanted to be. That feeling is backed up by Matt Nable’s narration, describing the strip as “the only game in town if you want a naughty night out” – a “mecca for sin”.
Despite some faithful recreations – including the old Kings Cross Coke sign – the textures here are glossy and slightly unreal. The show carries a polished look but that’s not necessarily a good thing: these kinds of streetside stories are often more compelling when they look scuzzy – a bit rough around the edges.
The series’ Hollywood-ish lot brings to mind a Baz Luhrmann production, The Get Down, which – based in New York in the 70s – features far more impressive period recreations, albeit drawn from a much larger budget. In this series it isn’t until the third episode (all I’ve been privy to so far) that there’s a strong sense of location. By this point the protagonist has bought his first nightclub, cleaning it up and bringing a more professional managerial style than his predecessor.
The producers were presumably hoping to tap into the enduring appeal of stories involving wild-side-walking tough guys, here delivering lines such as, “I’m gonna get ’im for ya!” and “You tryin’ to start a fuckin’ war?” There are bursts of violence, drug deals, occasional shootouts and various acts of machismo floating through oceans of testosterone. Conversation topics include retribution, making mistakes, not following in somebody’s footsteps, yada yada; we’ve been here many times before.
The style, in a word, feels risk-averse – which also applies to the performances. They are fine but unremarkable; nobody really stamps their foot on the accelerator. Younes holds his own as the subdued, street smart professional, while Roth comes across as oddly casual, both in his character’s hands-in-pockets demeanour and the way he faffs about on the story’s peripheries.
At times the show’s lukewarm tone made me want to grab the screen and shake it to life. There are signs it’s improving (with fewer timeline changes – that’s for sure) but who can justify sticking with a so-so series for more than three episodes when there’s so much else out there vying for our attention?
Last King of the Cross is available to stream on Paramount+
