Ozark review: A show with plenty of ideas, none of them original

"Scratch. Wampum. Dough. Sugar. Clams. Loot. Bills. Bones. Money... But what is money?" So begins Ozark (Netflix, streaming from Friday), in narcoleptic voice over, introducing a show that seems to run out of ideas within its opening seconds. Synonyms. Substitutes. Thesaurus . . . but what's another word for a thesaurus?

That's slightly unfair to Bill Dubuque's new crime drama, which actually has plenty of ideas. Admittedly, none of them are original. The Sopranos. The Wire. Breaking Bad. Bloodline . . . the list goes on.

Jason Bateman plays a straitlaced financial adviser, Marty Byrde, who makes two unhappy discoveries in quick succession. His wife, played by the wonderful Laura Linney, is having a vigorous affair, while his business partner has stolen $8 million from a Mexican drug kingpin. The latter he learns just before his partner commences dissolving in a barrel of acid.

Marty fast talks his way into a deal: he will repay the money and begin a money laundering operation unlike any you have ever seen. (There may be a reason for this; like paint, there is nothing especially interesting about watching money dry.)

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So begins another saga of a difficult male, a mild-mannered guy breaking not good at all, against the clock and under pressure. Most of the first episode is taken up with the complexity of closing investment accounts without incurring hefty penalties: although the show is not quite as dull as that sounds.

Bateman, who directs a few episodes, is creditable at the helm, keeping the pace vigorous, the colour palette broodingly dark, and the humour utterly absent. That will surprise fans of the attractively boyish, sardonic anchor of Arrested Development.

Ozark blanches out both qualities: one episode features his serious consideration of suicide in order to claim life insurance. What keeps him around, literally, is his capacity for story telling. In times of acute stress, he spins tales, hatches plans, and out-manoeuvres foes with lawyerly arguments. That is partly the skill of the con artist, or the modern television show-runner, keeping the audience curious enough to delay doubts, while busily playing for time.

Currently, I’m more than sceptical, and yet I may keep watching. The guy has something. Narrative. Plot. Tale. Yarn. Scam.