Set during the time and place everyone loves to romanticize—New York City in the 1980s—Abi Morgan’s Eric isn’t your typical kidnapping story. But then, nor is Morgan your typical screenwriter, having showcased a wide range of genres and styles over the years, something that is best elucidated by the fact that she is the writer of both The Iron Lady starring Meryl Streep and Shame starring Michael Fassbender. Eric probably falls more in the same column as the latter, even if not as overtly “seedy.” Still, it does explore a certain underworld (often literally) of New York, one that, in this case, involves a network of homeless people intertwined with the proverbial “hustle” aboveground.
The hustle in question is centered around a nightclub called The Lux, which just so happens to be right near the Andersons’ apartment. A place where Vincent (Benedict Cumberbatch) and Cassie (Gaby Hoffman, coming out of her intermittent retirement to remind us of her aphorism, “I really love my job, but I don’t want to do it that often”) live in the antithesis of wedded bliss. Their nine-year-old son, Edgar (Ivan Morris Howe), to his dismay, lives with them, too, and is daily subjected to their toxic fighting.
This constant exposure to the kinds of “adult fare” he shouldn’t be hearing is just one of the many reasons for Edgar’s obvious precociousness. In addition to his father quizzing him on who said quotes like, “Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.” A chestnut penned by none other than Leo Tolstoy. And it also serves as the crux of the series’ message, which is why use of the Tolstoyism is established in the first episode. Even if, in many moments, there are other themes that shine through. Like, for example, the racism inherent in police handlings of missing children reports. Or a white boy being so taken with a Black man and his graffiti that he would rather descend into the depths of hell than spend another second in his cush abode. And it is cush. After all, rent was much more affordable for a two-income household in 1985, regardless of neighborhood. Even if it’s hard to tell what neighborhood the Andersons live in. For the entire aesthetic of Eric is intended to make the environs as vague as possible, a mere “sketch” of what New York is “supposed to” look like. On the one hand, there are Times Square-ish sensibilities to it, while on the other, there are Brooklyn-ish qualities as well.
The seemingly deliberate genericness of what constitutes “80s New York” is, in part, a result of filming the majority of the show in Budapest. As director Lucy Forbes said, “There was never going to be an option to shoot the whole thing in New York because it’s so expensive.” A statement that seems ripe with bittersweet irony considering how many films of the 80s were made guerilla-style and on the cheap (e.g., Susan Seidelman’s Smithereens).” She then added, “So it was about choosing the right place to go, and Budapest has lots of very good studio space that is cost effective and has an amazing crew.” Granted, not so amazing that they could turn back the clock and make New York look like New York again, but hey, you can’t have everything.
Instead, you have to search for little fragments of what used to make the city itself by going to other milieus, including none other than New Jersey. On seeking a bit of 80s New York in the Garden State, executive producer Lucy Dyke noted, “It’s hard because you’re searching for a 1980s New York that just doesn’t exist anymore. New York is such a completely different place now, so we went all over the world searching for that.” The aesthetic result is, accordingly, something that feels decidedly Eastern Europe meets Montreal (where, on a side note, Scream VI filmed for its “New York” premise). This in addition to sharing an overall aesthetic similarity to Stranger Things—also a Netflix series, and also set in the 80s. And, perhaps most similar of all, involving the disappearance of a preteen boy.
Except that in Edgar’s situation, the disappearance is voluntary. Because, after reaching a threshold for the discord he can tolerate between his parents, he decides to follow one of the many homeless people in the area down into the bowels of the subway (in this regard, there is a certain Beauty and the Beast [the 1987 TV series] vibe to Eric). That’s how desperate he is to escape the toxicity. Of course, his parents won’t realize that until the end of the series, when it hits them that their constant bickering was what drove him away, preferring to brave the mean streets of New York rather than continue to sit inside listening to his father spew bilious rhetoric. For example, telling Cassie, “Don’t smother the boy” when she simply gives her son a hug. He then continues to spout his toxic masculinity by complaining that maybe he wouldn’t be so “grumpy” if it hadn’t been “weeks” since he got “laid.”
To make matters worse, Vincent fuels his already choleric temperament with a steady stream of alcohol to help fortify his inherent belligerence. A rage that has long been deep-seated, largely thanks to the cold environment he grew up in, courtesy of his rich real estate “development” father, Robert Anderson (John Doman), who matches the same level of emotional coldness as Vincent’s mother, Anne (Phoebe Nicholls). With Robert representing the rash of Trumpian-type “developers” reigning over 80s New York (and determining its future of homogeneity), it’s no wonder Vincent wants to go in the totally opposite direction, career-wise. Hence, starting his own Sesame Street-esque kids’ show called Good Day Sunshine Although the show has been an “institution” on TV for the past ten years, Vincent’s partner and collaborator, Lennie Wilson (Dan Fogler), insists they need to make changes to the show in order to make up for the recent dip in viewership. The suggestion from the suits is to “broaden appeal,” to “bridge the gap” between preschoolers and elementary school kids. All of this is polite white speak for: let’s get a more ethnic puppet.
It is Edgar, however, who already has a bright idea for the show’s newest cast member. A blue and white furry creature (channeling Sully from Monsters, Inc.) that has a markedly curmudgeonly personality. His name? Why, Eric, of course. Alas, Vincent isn’t really paying attention to Edgar’s “pitch” until it’s too late. Taking for granted, as so many parents do, that their children will always keep trying to be heard by them. But there’s only so many times and ways a child can shout from the mountaintops to actually be listened to by their parents. And Edgar is done trying.
Thus, Detective Michael Ledroit (McKinley Belcher III) is given his entrée into the narrative. His own storyline designed to reflect that specific era in New York. To that end, it is here that Eric starts to verge slightly into AHS: NYC territory (mainly with its closeted-gay-cop-dealing-with-the-gradual-death-of-a-lover-who-has-AIDS element)—except actually watchable. Mainly because, more than a “nostalgia trip” (with shades of Twin Peaks in addition to Stranger Things), Eric, through all its bleakness, manages to stick to its core point: “Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.” Least of all Vincent, who grows increasingly surly and unreachable as he drives the few people who were once close to him away in the aftermath of Edgar’s disappearance.
In both Vincent and Edgar’s—father and son’s—situations, one is a product of their environment. Eric posits, then, that the only way to really change is to remove yourself from the environment that’s turning you rotten on the inside. Even if the real problem lies within the environment itself (a.k.a. the person supposedly “in charge” that’s, er, puppeteering all that negativity).
