The Consultant is the corporate son of Servant—a rather unsurprising connection considering that both series were created by Tony Basgallop. The story of a mysterious and potentially nefarious stranger who arrives on the doorstep of a business reeling from a horrific death, promising to magically fix what ails the outfit, this adaptation of Bentley Little’s 2016 novel of the same name isn’t quite as beguiling as its showrunner’s Apple TV+ hit (albeit not for lack of trying).
Still, led by an amusingly menacing Christoph Waltz, the Prime Video black comedy (which premieres Feb. 24) takes a modestly sharp satiric scalpel to the American workplace, where ambitions are best realized by those who stop playing nice and start getting cutthroat.
At Los Angeles mobile gaming producer CompWare, tragedy strikes when a group of middle schoolers come to tour the facilities and one student opens fire on CEO Sang (Brian Yoon), terminating the prodigy-mogul’s young life. This seems to put an end to the tenures of Sang’s assistant Elaine (Brittany O'Grady)—who’s given herself the more impressive-sounding moniker “creative liaison”—and coder Craig (Nat Wolff), with whom Elaine shares a charged rapport (and history), this despite his impending nuptials to fiancé Patti (Aimee Carrero).
Before they can hit the unemployment line, though, their jobs are saved by the appearance of Regus Patoff (Waltz), a consultant who informs them that he was hired by Sang to oversee CompWare’s fortunes, and who shows them a contract stating that he’s now, for all intents and purposes, the bigshot in charge of the firm.
Sporting a designer suit and well-manicured hair, and speaking in Waltz’s distinctively clipped and deliberate manner, Patoff is a bureaucrat who’s unnerving whether he’s silent or speechifying, smiling or glaring, and he radiates an aura of unflappable invincibility.
Upon arriving at the office, which is largely populated by tech-savvy zoomers, Patoff sets about shaking things up, terminating remote workers who can’t promptly be there in person (including a wheelchair-bound staffer who just misses his deadline), and threatening to fire one underling, Iain (Michael Charles Vaccaro), for smelling “like putrid fruit or decaying flowers”—a decision that’s only nullified when Elaine gives the sad-sack a sponge and bucket of soapy water with which to wash himself.
More shocking still, when Elaine and Craig review security footage of Patoff’s maiden meeting with Sang, they discover a most unusual scene that culminates with a seriously inappropriate act of fellatio. The Consultant makes no bones about the fact that Patoff isn’t who he claims to be, replete with a premiere-episode revelation about the phoniness of his name. Yet initially, his true nature is only hinted at as he goes about his day-to-day duties.
In the short term, those involve handling Sang’s mother (Gloria John), who as her son’s only living relative travels from South Korea to L.A. to look in on CompWare and then almost immediately vanishes—suggesting, to Elaine and Craig, potential foul play—as well as buddying up with Craig during a bizarre night on the town that peaks with an abduction.
Patoff presents himself as a potential savior but he’s really an agent of chaos, even when it comes to Craig’s new game, which Patoff modifies into a far more commercial venture in which success is achieved at random. At the same time, he sows seeds of discord for his employees both at work and at home, whether he’s letting them duke it out for a prime managerial-hallway office or interfering in the relationship of Craig and Patti, the latter of whom is a devout Catholic forcing her fiancé to convert and study up on the Bible for their wedding.
While Patoff’s motives are murky, his malevolence is unmistakable, and the series ups the suspicious ante with aplomb, be it with regards to a locked records room (located in the back of a basement filled with server bays) or a Pomona jeweler who, years earlier, fulfilled an exceedingly unusual custom order for Patoff.
Waltz can do this sort of intimidation routine with his eyes closed, and at certain points, one wishes The Consultant asked him to do more than merely exude viper-like deviousness via a composed and cheery disposition. Still, the series is smartly directed—by, among others, WandaVision’s Matt Shakman and Yellowjackets’ Karyn Kusama—and, with each installment running a half-hour, it’s also swiftly paced.
Anxiety remains high throughout, especially courtesy of Wolff, whose Craig is a stressed-out mess contending with a boss who doesn’t seem to trust him (or can be trusted), a colleague in Elaine for whom he still harbors feelings, and a fiancé in Patti who isn’t confident about his fidelity and demands that he get his act together.
Alas, for all its misdirections and evasions, The Consultant isn’t as perplexing as it lets on, thanks to various details that make plain Patoff’s diabolicalness. From Faustian bargains and incessant red lighting to violent deaths and persistent talk about the Catholic Church, it’s hard not to see the writing on the wall, and by the time Elvis is crooning “(You’re the) Devil in Disguise,” the proceedings have all but given up pretending there’s an alternative explanation for its main character’s disreputable conduct.
Consequently, those hoping for a long-form tease à la Servant will be mildly disappointed; the series’ coyness is offset by persistent winking at the audience that’s intended to make sure they aren’t baffled by what’s taking place.
Even if Waltz’s protagonist is ultimately an easy riddle to decipher, and his tale isn’t as expansive as it could be, The Consultant paints a cynical portrait of 21st-century business as a ruthless arena in which the means always justify the ends.
For all their supposed moral misgivings, Elaine and Craig both eventually grasp that professional dreams and personal fulfillment are achievable so long as ethics, the law and basic decency aren’t permitted to stand in the way. That’s not, it must be said, a particularly groundbreaking take on modern capitalism. Yet in Basgallop and Waltz’s assured hands, it’s nonetheless delivered with a humorous amount of bite.
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