‘American Gigolo’ Review: Jon Bernthal’s Prostitute Is Sexy as Hell

Jon Bernthal has already delivered the year’s best TV performance in April’s We Own This City, and he continues his stellar 2022 with American Gigolo, an adaptation-cum-expansion of Paul Schrader’s 1980 neo-noir that justifies its existence courtesy of its headliner’s lead turn. As Julian Kaye, Bernthal not only wears the Armani suits and drives the classic convertible that were Richard Gere’s iconic accoutrements, but he makes them his own, even as he embodies a character with far more inner turmoil—and heart—than his predecessor’s for-hire prostitute. With a suave sexual confidence that masks a wounded soul, Bernthal is a magnetic man of the night, navigating an underworld that’s at once familiar and foreign, and decorated not only by shimmering lights but by blood that keeps figuratively (and literally) winding up on his hands.

Developed by Ray Donovan vet David Hollander, American Gigolo (Sept. 11, Showtime) embraces its roots—replete with Blondie’s “Call Me” as its credit song and spiritual anthem—while reimagining Julian in more complex terms. When we first meet the protagonist, he’s in shocked, panicked tears during a chat with Detective Sunday (Rosie O’Donnell), who explains to him that, because he’s been found in a room with a murdered client, he’s either going away for a quarter century (if he confesses) or life (if he doesn’t). During his subsequent stint behind bars, Julian transforms from a dapper playboy into a hardened, torso-tattooed man who resembles Robert De Niro’s Cape Fear baddie Max Cady more than he does Gere. That appearance, however, is deceiving, and when he’s exonerated fifteen years later—thanks to a dying killer admitting to the crime—he returns to his old California stomping grounds more guarded and jaded, if still the same fundamentally charming individual as before.

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American Gigolo’s first three episodes (which were all that were provided to press) chart Julian’s acclimation back into society, which involves hooking up with his old buddy and fellow prostitute Lorenzo (Wayne Brady), who’s kept his ride and his wardrobe in mint condition during his time away, and who continues to work in the hustling game as a manager. He also crosses paths with both his prior madame Olga (Sandrine Holt) as well as her successor, Isabelle (Lizzie Brocheré), who as a child thought herself the princess to Olga’s queen, and looked forward to owning Olga’s stable of men—including, in particular, Julian. Flashbacks further elucidate Julian’s entrée into this seedy world, beginning with his mom (Melora Walters) pimping him out to fellow residents and selling him to Olga, and Olga—at her glitzy L.A. home, populated by all manner of enticing young men and women—teaching him how to dress, to speak (including in French) and, most importantly, to screw.

Much of this takes place while Julian is a 15-year-old known as John (Gabriel LaBelle), meaning Olga is a pedophilic groomer, and she’s not the only one in American Gigolo; a later subplot further depicts this milieu as thriving on the sexual exploitation of kids by adults. Julian is thus a victim of manipulation and abuse by those tasked with caring for him, and as an ex-con, he carries those scars at the same time that he endeavors to get himself back on his feet. Procuring a job at a restaurant, finding an apartment in the home of Lizzy (Yolanda Ross), and steering clear of trouble are all part of that initial plan. As is so often the case, though, the pull of the old life is difficult to resist, and it’s not long before Julian is wrapped up in all sorts of knotty prostitution-related entanglements.

Despite its reverential affectations, American Gigolo isn’t quite as cool and chic as Schrader’s original—but then, how could it be, since that feature film was a trend-setting expression of its then-nascent era. Still, Hollander’s series has its own seductive appeal, with Bernthal exuding such easygoing allure that he helps sell this high-class scene of male escorts and the older women who love (and are eager to pay top dollar for) their company. At the same time, the actor infuses Julian with a low-simmering anger that one feels as much as sees, creeping around the edges of his eyes and his coiled body language during moments of potential conflict. Moreover, he slowly reveals layers of vulnerability and hurt, much of it born from Julian’s ugly childhood as well as from his separation from Michelle (Gretchen Mol), whom he fell in love with before being sent to prison, and with whom he tries to reconnect upon his release.

Michelle’s unhappy marriage to a tech mogul (Leland Orser) and her serious problem with her teenage son further broaden American Gigolo’s scope, as do recurring visions of Julian and Michelle’s prior courtship and happy romance—scenes enhanced by Bernthal and Mol’s natural, eroticized chemistry. At least for now, the show is less successful as a mystery about who framed Julian years earlier for homicide, both because it seems less interested in that thread than in its more character-driven concerns, and because there are presently only a few suspects, and even fewer who have a logical motivation for orchestrating that treachery. Consequently, O’Donnell gets the least to work with, although she’s so amusingly gruff as a cop drawn to Julian—and exasperated by his ability to stumble into the thick of trouble—that she elevates the story’s slender sleuthing elements.

Given that its most intriguing facets have to do with Julian’s interior struggles, it remains to be seen if American Gigolo can sustain itself over the course of ten episodes (much less multiple seasons). Nonetheless, Bernthal is such a compelling center of attention that it’s difficult to imagine it losing its edge, especially considering that the show’s back half appears to promise a lot more action set in the world of male gigolos—an environment ripe for colorful personalities, twisted dilemmas, and tawdry kicks. It may not be as unique and pioneering as its source material (or celebrate its star, à la Gere, in all his unclothed full-frontal glory), but Hollander’s drama has a poise and polish that makes it a date worth keeping.

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