Overdue Emmy Recognition for Brian Tyree Henry in Dope Thief
The television industry often dismisses crime dramas when the pivotal roles are played by Black or actors of colour, portraying characters with ambiguous morals, which is a striking disparity to their white counterparts. Remarkably, highly acclaimed series such as The Wire, Power, Claws, and Snowfall, despite their sizeable ensemble of diverse cast, were snubbed from Emmy nominations. A lonely nomination was permitted for HBO’s Oz, standing out as an exception to this rule. This is the backdrop against which Brian Tyree Henry’s nomination for his role in Dope Thief strikes an exceptional chord.
No actor embodied sorrow like Brian Tyree Henry this year, a fact acknowledged through his unexpected yet well-deserved nomination for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Limited or Anthology Series or Movie. Moreover, Henry’s dedication to his role in Dope Thief stands as the most diverse in his portfolio. Audiences remember Henry from the Donald Glover’s FX show, Atlanta, where his character, an upcoming rap star, served as a level-headed foil to his companions’ outlandish exploits.
In the film Widows, directed by Steve McQueen, Henry seamlessly juggled the menace of a proselytizing crime lord with the inspiring speeches of a political aspirant. Moreover, his exhaustive earnestness and weighty presence lent a particular poignancy to the film adaptation of If Beale Street Could Talk. The culmination of all these real-life roles can be seen in the character of Ray Driscoll in Dope Thief, with Henry deftly maneuvering the complexities of a stick-up artist, a recovering addict, a faithful companion, and a pained son.
Dope Thief commences as an exhilarating adventure filled with clichéd aspects of a heist thriller, but it gradually develops an emotional resonance and impetus, largely attributable to Henry’s talent for articulating simmering torment. The eight-part series, an adaptation of Dennis Tafoya’s eponymous 2009 novel, sets the stage with a deceptive stakeout. Ray and his closest ally, Manny Carvalho, perch in a surveillance van outside a Philadelphia hideaway, engrossed in speculations about the inhabitants and potential earnings from the impending raid.
Facing the harsh realities of unemployment and growing desperation for sustainable income, Ray and Manny resort to the age-old profession of robbing drug peddlers. As the narrative unfolds in the initial episodes of Dope Thief, Ray metamorphoses from an ostentatious swindler to a troubled young man during his encounters with Theresa, who assumed parental duties when his father, a narcotics vendor named Bart, was incarcerated.
Ray seeks to distance himself from his father, a man notorious for stashing drugs on his son’s person during a police encounter. In embodying Ray’s character, Henry emanates a sense of annoyance that is almost palpable, yet his gentle gaze implies that his frustration is driven mainly by apprehension.
In the most sophisticated episode of Dope Thief, titled ‘Love Songs From Mars,’ Ray confronts his father and his past while enduring a horrific makeshift surgery and leaping headfirst into a car chase. Throughout these trials, Ray’s commitment to preserving the well-being of Manny, who struggles with heroin addiction, and shielding Theresa from the truth of their criminal endeavors, becomes insurmountable.
The brilliance of Henry’s portrayal in Dope Thief stems from his refusal to suppress his character’s voice amidst hardships. His dexterous character navigation combined with subtle articulation of emotional turmoil becomes the cornerstone of an authentic performance, ultimately resulting in recognition from a platform that typically oversights roles like his.