How Departing From The Comics Makes AMC’s ‘Preacher’ A Better TV Show

Based on the fast-paced, thrilling, sharply-written and funny pilot episode of Preacher from Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg, I wrote a few weeks ago that AMC’s new drama would become television’s next, great weekly cultural event. Having now seen the next three episodes of the series, I stand by the assessment.

Preacher may not immediately catapult into weekly must-watch status, however. With three days of viewership accounted for the show solid has put up solid-but-not-spectacular ratings, and the series will still have to compete with Game of Thrones not only head-to-head in the same time slot, but for attention on the internet for the rest of June.

Moreover, after a propulsive pilot episode that roars out of the gate and catches the viewers’ immediate attention, the influence of showrunner, co-creator and writer Sam Catlin (Breaking Bad) begins to take over. The series slows down, begins to develop its characters, and relaxes into something more akin to the slow burn of Breaking Bad. There’s less chaos, it’s not as frenzied, and it’s decidedly more character driven.

Fans of Garth Ennis and Steven Dillon’s comic series may also feel anxious that the series is taking a different path than the source material. Aside from Odin Quincannon (Jackie Earle Haley), none of the major villains from the series make an appearance early on. In fact, relatively minor characters Fiore (Tom Brooke) and DeBlanc (Anatol Yusef) — who basically provided an exposition dump in the comic series explaining the details behind the mysterious comet-like phenomenon Genesis — are elevated into major characters in the first season, as the details behind Genesis are doled out slowly. Catlin also tries to ground a lot of fantastical elements from the comic in reality, inasmuch as one can when dealing with an Irish vampire, angels, and a spiritual energy sent from Heaven that possesses the title character and gives him the power to command others to do as he so desires.

“We almost end [the first season] where the comic starts,” Dominic Cooper has said. Based on the first few episodes, that seems about right. Sam Catlin takes a few elements from the “Salvation” run in the comics and merges them with Fiore and DeBlanc’s exposition dump. Catlin attempts to build an origins story for Genesis, meting out details an episode at a time. What are Jesse Custer’s powers? Why did Genesis choose him? What drives his morality? What’s the history of Jesse and Tulip’s relationship? What exactly is Cassidy, and why is he being chased by vampire hunters?

Character details have also been altered from the comics, sometimes significantly. Neither Arseface (Ian Colletti) nor Sheriff Root (W. Earl Brown) bear much resemblance to their comic counterparts so far. And there are also suggestions that Custer’s own family backstory will depart significantly from the comics. Lucy Griffiths’ Emily is a series-created character, and it’s too early to say exactly how she will service the plot. Most frustrating for comic readers, however, may be the fact that there is no sign of Herr Starr, and no suggestion that he’ll make an appearance anytime soon.

That said, Catlin is being smart about how he lays the groundwork for the series. He knows what he’s doing, and even makes a few tongue-in-cheek references to his departures from the comics. (At one point, Cassidy jokes to Jesse, “We should be on a road trip. We should be having adventures in San Francisco or France!”) He’s building the series for the long-haul, and the first few episodes are crucial to our understanding of Jesse’s powers and in building a universe peopled with characters with whom we can invest. Jesse’s grasp of those powers comes to him gradually, often through trial and error. Tulip, meanwhile, is seeking vengeance, insisting on bringing Custer back down into the criminal life with her. Cassidy — who moves into Jesse’s church and works as a sort of handyman — continues to provide comic relief and act as the intermediary between Jesse and DeBlanc and Fiore. He’s also carrying a secret of his own — that he’s a vampire — but it’s not something he’s trying to hide. It’s just not a detail that anyone is in Anvil, Texas is yet ready to believe.

The majority of viewers who have not read the comics won’t feel any sense of urgency for the series to get to those iconic moments. To the typical viewer, the story will feel original, but the beats familiar. Catlin has successfully managed to wrangle the brilliant but unwieldy source material into a series of three-act episodes. The disturbing imagery is still ever-present (there is a hurl-worthy shot of a teenage girl’s bashed-in head at one point), and Garth Ennis’ morbid sense of humor and exploration of spirituality remains the lifeblood. The spirit of Jesse, Tulip, and Cassidy also translates well, even if the details have been changed. What’s most different, so far, are the heavenly characters, who easily pass as the government agents they are posing as.

Preacher is more thoughtful and less action-driven than the pilot might have suggested. It’s layering in the story, nesting plot points that will pay off later in the first season. There are composites, and some of the characters given short shrift in the comics get longer arcs, more developed personalities, and clearer motivations here, so their inevitable deaths will mean something. Early on, it feels like a series more inspired by the source material than adapted from it, but it’s no less compelling for that. It’s not fast and furious, but it’s engaging and while it might have been easy for Catlin, Rogen, and Goldberg to toss red meat to the comic’s fans, they seem more interested in earning our trust by firmly establishing Jessie, Cassidy, and Tulip before moving them out into the wider world. That may be frustrating for comic fans eager to see their favorite characters come to life onscreen, but it will ultimately make for a better, more substantive television series.

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