“Long Bright River” somewhat mitigates my tendency to dislike television programs that are set in Philadelphia. It hasn’t quite made the dent in my custom that “Mare of Easttown” did, but it kept me watching from episode to episode, something “Abbott Elementary” and “It’s Always Su nny in Philadelphia” couldn’t manage twice. In spite of being one more variation on one of streaming television’s most frequent plot lines — one relative being obsessed with finding another who’s been lost, kidnapped, or just plain missing — I am drawn in to seeing how this particular search goes. The Peacock series is set in Philadelphia’s Kensington section, not the posh West Kensington that is gentrifying farther north every minute, but the seedy, fentanyl-ridden area around the El where tent cities emerge and crimes involving drugs and prostitution prevail. The person doing the searching is Michaela “Mickey” Fitzgerald (Amanda Seyfried), who has given up two careers to become a police officer, primarily so she can keep track of, then track down her younger sister, who, as “Long Bright River” would have it, was pulled into the drug-infested world Kensington has become. It is Mickey who keeps interest going when “Long Bright River” becomes a cliche, draws out a sequence as if the series doesn’t have enough material to sustain eight episodes, or irritatingly uses withholding something it should reveal to create the notion of suspense that never really gels. Seyfried makes Mickey the picture of regret, determination and fearlessness. You want her to succeed in learning the whereabouts of her sister, rescuing her if possible, and assuaging any guilt or anger she has about her sister’s downfall. The mechanics of “Long Bright River” are clunky, and the characters other than Mickey are stock and don’t have much except a familiar type to play, but Seyfried’s Mickey gives it a human side that makes you not only root for her but makes you appreciate her tenacity, admire her fearlessness, cheer her choice to be a maverick in her police district, even when it angers her superior officer, and savor the unconventional way she is raising her son. I watch “Long Bright River” because I want to see where Mickey’s story ends and where that ending leads her. Mickey is a native of Kensington. She grew up blocks from the beat she patrols. She went to the local schools, is known by many in the neighborhood, and is aware of its history. When Mickey was a child, Kensington was hardscrabble, but “The Ave,” Kensington Avenue around the Allegheny Avenue hub was a thriving business street, and drug addiction was not as prevalent as it would become. Mickey had outlets that gave her pride others did not muster. She was a gifted musician who could have had a classical career playing the English horn. She was aware of choices that could spell disaster if they were made poorly, or irrevocably. She had the intelligence and common sense to make a life that didn’t involve the dangerous enticements of The Ave that emerged by the time Mickey became an adult. Mickey is “Long Bright River’s” strength, and Seyfried is the only one who has enough individual about her character to give a faceted performance. Callum Vinson earn favor as Mickey’s precocious and observant grade-school-age son. Nicholas Pinnock endows his character, Mickey’s former patrol partner on injury leave, with dignity. John Doman finds the right Kensington touch as Mickey’s grandfather who runs a bar in a Mummers clubhouse. They’re all good, but none of them can transcend the cookie-cutter nature of their roles. Not even Harriet Sansom Harris, as a buttinsky landlord, has enough unique or unusual about her, to build a special performance. Characters straight from the typecasting playbook are not what keeps “Long Bright River” from being totally fulfilling. The drawn-out nature of its storytelling is. So is its attempts to exonerate women who get caught in the mire of drugs and sex while putting total blame on the men around them. For all Mickey does, “Long Bright River” has little action. Amanda Seyfried attends the premiere of “Long Bright River” at Metrograph on Wednesday, Mar. 5, 2025, in New York. (Evan Agostini/Invision/AP) It lingers on scenes of the Kensington streets, but you have to wait until Mickey makes a bold move for the writing and direction to take on any life. Particularly life that isn’t predictable or meant to elicit a viewer reaction rather than inform. A lot of what is shown is portentous, but it has little payoff. Many extended shots seem like filler. For me, the worst offense writers Nikki Toscano and Liz Moore, whose novel triggered the Peacock series, made is mistaking withholding for suspense. “Long Bright River” tips you off to practically everything before actually showing you what happens or having Mickey or another character reveal it outright. You are sure the character of the drug-ravaged shoplifter, Kacey (Ashleigh Cummings), is Mickey’s sister a half-hour before you’re told she is. That’s only one example of “Long Bright River” being so slow to divulge the obvious, it stops being a mystery or a edge-of-seat detective yarn. It’s Mickey’s determination to learn the truth and, if she can, make amends that compels enough to stay with the series to its end. It’s also Seyfried and to some extent Vinson providing characters to care about that sustains. Writing and direction by several directors could be better. Toscano and Moore could also have been more canny about the way they ask for empathy for the women who suffer on Kensington streets. Yes, many are victims whose pain goes beyond their bad choice to turn to drugs. Audiences will feel for people whose existence in a place might mark them for murder. The problem is Toscano and Moore are heavy-handed in their plea to excuse characters like Kacey, especially when they resort to the saw that the fault is not in those women’s stars that they have succumbed to an addicting weakness but only in the men that surround them. That’s too easy sociologically and psychological. Many of “Long Bright River’s” women characters earn some sympathy, but it’s up to Toscano and Moore to establish that sympathywith depth and not by relying on trendy current sentiments. WIP personalities’ contest The hosts on WIP (94.1 FM) never tire of having contests among themselves, usually including some humiliating stunt for the loser to perform. Such juvenilia continues in an interesting way next month when morning host Joe DeCamara squares off against afternoon host Jack Fritz in a series of individual sports contests. So far, golf and baseball have been mentioned as events in DeCamara and Fritz’s personal mini-Olympiad. Already the mutual taunting has begun. The three daytime shows on ‘IP — the morning show with DeCamara, Jon Ritchie, Rhea Hughes and Jack Seltzer; the midday show with Joe Giglio and Hugh Douglas; and the afternoon show with Fritz, Spike Eskin and Ike Reese — maintain a rivalry they may call friendly but I think is taken seriously, especially by the afternoon crew. One team criticizing something said by another has deep repercussions. Sensitivity, dismissal, and disdain become immediately evident when the “attacked” team defends itself or retaliates by viciously sinking its claws into its colleagues. The showdown between DeCamara and Fritz is a manifestation of this. Even when I heard it announced, Eskin sneered at DeCamara for “being nice” while introducing him, quickly saying he wasn’t buying the charm and the gloves were off. It’s sort of the all jokes being a little pointed. Who knows how savagely DeCamara and Fritz will fight for the honor of his individual program. Fritz has an advocate in Eskin, and DeCamara has one of equal zeal in Hughes. During the throwing of the gauntlets, it was mentioned that DeCamara is age 46 — 47 later this month — while Fritz will be 31 on his next birthday. Seltzer and Eskin also pointed out Fritz has been running lately and is “in shape.” Who knows how this will end and what DeCamara or Fritz will have to do if his opponent is the victor. If the penalty is up to Eskin, you know it will be embarrassing or geared to make the loser do something he abhors, something akin to making Ike Reese eat mayonnaise. (Me too, Ike!) Right now, the sports in which DeCamara and Fritz will compete have yet to be decided. It was a conundrum to both teams to figure out as fair contest for an individual in baseball. Satchel Paige being a team’s lone pitcher and defender for an out or three was discussed as a possibility. I can tell you already I’ve decided which of the contestants I’m rooting for. Ironically, it’s the one from the show I like better. Hmmm. ‘Dreamgirls’ at Walnut a chart topper Producers who videotape live performances to distribute in international movie theaters or television productions looking for a show that would radiate on the little screen as much as it does live should head to the Walnut Street Theatre by May 4 to see the Walnutproduction of “Dreamgirls.” In the hands of director Gerry McIntyre and a uniformly excellent cast — Wait until I tell you about Aveena Sawyer, who plays Effie — the Walnut has shown how vibrantly classic this 1981 musical is. Actress/singer Gabrielle Beckford is in the Walnut Street Theatre production of “Dreamgirls,” running through May 4. (COURTESY OF ASHLEY SMITH/ WIDE EYED STUDIOS) I have seen “Dreamgirls” more than 30 times, including attending the original Broadway production three times, and I can safely say this is the single best production of “Dreamgirls” I’ve experienced. I also think Aveena Sawyer is the best Effie White of all. Theater productions are ephemeral. They appear for a given time, then disappear forever. This “Dreamgirls” should be preserved and seen by audiences beyond Philadelphia. McIntyre, who choreographs as well as directs, has created a flow that makes every aspect of Tom Eyen and Henry Krueger’s musical integral and important. I’ve seen productions that emphasize the music and let Eyen’s story go by the wayside. Worse, I’ve seen productions that want to use Eyen’s script to underscore corruption in the pop music industry. McIntyre’s production makes all come to life. Musical numbers have either the flair that show why a given song is a hit and a given group, in this case The Dreams, have reached superstardom or the human touch that makes songs all the more personal and poignant. The big and intimate merge beautifully so that a lavish Las Vegas sequence and an intimate song from Effie or dramatic farewell from Lorrell have equal, proportional impact. “Dreamgirls” could not be conceived of or paced better. Scenes melt into each other with a fluidity that astounds. A musical extravaganza, a dressing room argument, or a discussion about show business all register as interesting and exciting. There’s no letdown, only high point after high point, punctuated by lighting and fixtures that spell show business and glamor. Rarely has any show played so seamlessly, carrying the precise energy needed from one sequence to the next. Thank a wonderful cast for bringing Eyen and Krieger’s characters to life. McIntyre and Sawyer take a new tack in Effie’s show-stopping “(And I Am Telling You) I’m Not Going.” From strong beginning to bravura build, Sawyer makes Effie’s anthem mesmerizing and exhilarating. It is theater of the highest order and staged in a way that would translate well to a camera. I could practically see the trucks and pans necessary for television as I watched Sawyer live. Jarran Musk is marvelous as the visionary but conniving Curtis. E. Clayton Cornelious has heart and depth as well as soul as James Thunder Early. Khalifa White nails Lorrell’s separation from Jimmy. Gabrielle Beckford masters modesty and majesty as Deena. The production is perfect because it blends every element with such taste and aplomb. It’s a remarkable achievement and should be there to be viewed through the ages. ...read more read less