I didn’t read Postmortem when it introduced Dr. Kay Scarpetta in 1990, but I jumped into the series a few books later and then played enthusiastic catch-up. So, as of now, I’ve read all 29 of Patricia Cornwell’s Scarpetta novels – and feel therefore compelled to tune into the new TV series on Prime Video. In some ways, the opening episodes capably turn Cornwell’s words into flesh and blood – sometimes all too literally, since Dr. Scarpetta autopsies murder victims. And in other ways, it’s hard not to wish all we still had was some terrific fiction.
Perhaps predictably, some of the series’ most virulent critics are passionate lovers of the books – people just like me, in other words. Many reject the casting of Nicole Kidman as Scarpetta, who looks less the way I picture the protagonist than she resembles the current author-photo Cornwell herself. None other than the author is seen briefly in the first episode, as a judge or other official swearing in Scarpetta when she decides to return to Virginia. Word is that Cornwell had, along the 35-year road to this production, wanted Jodie Foster to take on the role. Other names attached to the character over the years included Demi Moore, Angelina Jolie and Helen Mirren. But in Hollywood, as the Rolling Stones would forever remind us, you can’t always get what you want.
I don’t know if it’s mostly the 29 books or the 35 years that are to blame, but the world of Scarpetta has become a complicated place indeed. In pursuit of the storyteller’s beloved conflict, Cornwell has crafted many ongoing, sometimes evolving relationships to balance out the predictably shortlived serial killers and other monsters who turn up. The TV series steps into the saga after all this has come together, with lots of problems already in motion.
At the center of everything is Kay Scarpetta, played by Kidman and therefore a very attractive woman, even in mask and scrubs. Scarpetta was that already, in both the books and readers’ imaginations. Sharing the law enforcement limelight (and her love) is Benton Wesley, a brilliant and, of course, handsome and very stylish FBI profiler. Wesley’s opposite in Scarpetta’s universe is Pete Marino, a grousy and gruff former cop who ceaselessly horrifies Kay with his insensitivity. Marino’s crime-solving instincts are dead-on, though, and he’s fiercely loyal to Kay.
Around these are gathered Dorothy, Kay’s loud and mostly lazy sister, and Dorothy’s tech-genius grown daughter Lucy, who grew up with Kay serving as a kind of surrogate mom while Dorothy ran off with a long string of ineptly chosen men.
Kidman is fine as Scarpetta, not least because the character’s physical actions are fairly predictable. We watch her handle a wide collection of late-night murder scenes that lead invariably to surprisingly graphic autopsies under the lab lights. What’s lacking here is Cornwell’s nonstop stream of Scarpetta’s thoughts, a kind of self-interrogation by way of self-incrimination, ranging from memories of other murders going back to her own father’s to near-paranoid worries about friends, family and office personnel. Scarpetta’s brain never stops racing, her blessing and her curse. Also missing (so far) is Kay’s militant commitment to the victims lifeless on her table. They can no longer speak, she says often in the novels, so she has to speak for them, demanding that justice be done.
Perhaps the most believable transfer from page to screen is Bobby Cannavale as Marino. While he looks shorter and thinner than Marino in the books, he does New York-inflected cop smartass with perfection. The tangle of his feelings about Scarpetta is visible always in his eyes, even now that (sadly for him) he’s married to Dorothy. Simon Baker is okay as Benton, the Australia-born actor taking on a Southern accent for the role. He and Kidman could have talked Aussie together.
As for Jamie Lee Curtis as Dorothy (a major face on every promotion for the show), she carries on bravely and sometimes with gusto. Yet the X-rated screaming matches between Dorothy and Kay usually seem overdone and, at the same time, strangely shallow. In the books, there’s mostly silent seething between the sisters, but of course TV audiences can’t hear seething. Somebody decided the main “stage business” of Scarpetta is the two sisters battling it out.
Ariana DeBose makes us believe she’s Lucy, whose late lesbian wife remains part of her life in the form of an AI chatbot on a computer monitor. In the books, Lucy is a female Rambo, an FBI agent flying combat helicopters and going after anyone who threatens her Aunt Kay. We’ll see if that side of Lucy finds its way into the series.
The inspiration for these shows combines Postmortem from 1990 with Autopsy from 2021. The intriguing result is a shadow cast of younger versions of the main characters, flipping timelines and murder cases back and forth. Once we lose interest in Kay and Dorothy yelling angry F-bombs at each other, these parallel plotlines might be the most fascinating thing about the new TV Scarpetta.
