Bass Reeves, the man who inspired The Lone Ranger, has had more media appearances in recent memory than that famous fictional lawman. Over the last few years, Reeves has been fictionalized several times: portrayed by Delroy Lindo in Jeymes Samuel’s “The Harder They Fall,” David Oyelowo in Chad Feehan’s gritty miniseries “Lawmen: Bass Reeves“, and even voiced by Keith David in an episode of “Gremlins: The Wild Batch” last year. The Reeves-urgence has hit full throttle, so to speak.
None of these titles comes close to creator LeSean Thomas’ (“Yasuke”) latest Netflix series, “Bass x Machina,” an entertaining, ultraviolent, anime-styled actioner that depicts Reeves as a bionic-armed bounty hunter in a steampunk-infused American West.
Making Edison’s lightbulb look like a lollipop, Thomas conjures a genre-bending world where men can wield mechs, and Indigenous Americans bear element-bending powers. It’s like a ’60s-era spaghetti western meeting “Mortal Engines,” but with a sharper arsenal for discussing racial injustice than even “Harder They Fall.”
The six‑episode first season opens on a pre‑U.S. Marshal Bass Reeves (Brian Tyree Henry) on a bounty assignment across snowy terrain. A stern, gruff, one‑man machine, he’s tormented by memories of having his arm torn off and modified into a cybernetic hand (one that can transform into a double‑barreled gun). Through an exciting, grisly gun‑slinging shootout sequence aboard a steam train, we see him operate as judge, jury, and executioner, always getting his mark, preferably with a bullet to the head. (Got to make the TV-MA rating count.)
Upon returning to a robot‑aided frontier town, he’s enlisted to rescue a missing scientist, Dr. Eugene Starr (Nick Thurston), presumed abducted by Indigenous people on Five Civilized Tribes territory. Reeves’ rapport with them makes him the best candidate. They tell him the metal used for his arm has been found, activating his revenge fuel to find General Rivenbark (Currie Graham)—the Frankenstein to his monster. To seal the deal: $1,000 in compensation and appointment as the first Black U.S. Marshal, with equal pay to his white counterparts.
He returns home to his two sons and pregnant wife, Glory (Janelle Monáe), whom he lovingly dubs “the Boss.” After a series of night terrors, she suggests he go fulfill his quest.
Reeves isn’t the only one searching for Starr; Starr’s passionate 14‑year‑old inventor niece, Dana (an unrecognizable Tati Gabrielle), is too. She offers to help find the only family she has left, and he declines. Unrelentingly, she joins anyway, to his dismay.
Riding on her steampunked e-bike alongside his horse, the pacifist Dana suggests “the alive” option in the “dead or alive disclaimer” to Reeves. All while using a non‑lethal gadget she made or reengineering service bots to aid Reeves in jams when outnumbered by outlaws.
South Korean animation house Studio Mir (“Devil May Cry,” “X-Men ’97”) astounds with their animation, as they always do. Each action scene is fast-paced and exciting, and the mix of steampunk and Western violence brings out the best of both worlds, whether it’s a bloody shootout or Bass bringing out his big guns against high-scaled mechs. The cinematic art direction stands out most. The color scheme relies heavily on dusty yellow and sienna brown. The woodsy, straw-built architecture across the Frontier and Tribal settings, mixed with the often brown-and-grey rustic machinery, creates a vibrant world.
Alas, the same doesn’t hold true in its alt-history setting. Robots are present, but American history still unravels the same. It plays colonialism, segregation, and oppression very 1:1 to history itself, with mechs just being part of it. It leaves you questioning certain aspects more than others, particularly: when did the indoctrination of roboticism in society normalize? During slavery or post-Civil War?
Those questions aren’t going to be answered, for the series is more concerned with deconstructing Reeves’ past traumas. From being robbed of his autonomy after losing his first wife and kid to American soldiers, there’s a clear reason why he’s hard-edged in his burgeoning “True Grit”-like friendship with Dana. Still, Henry and Gabrielle’s vibrant voicework makes this central relationship familiar and admirable.
However, each episode bears a variation of the same “Bass demands she go home and her persistent refusal to leave” argument. It’s repetitive, and stalls the show’s pacing and the potential to develop their buddy dynamic with earned emotional weight. It adds some great ideas, but like a rusty door hinge, it noisily creaks when characters decide to open up.”
Bass X Machina” is most incisive when it mirrors Bass’s rage-fueled quest with other marginalized groups’ resentment toward a discrimination-driven America. It focuses on a cultural dispute between Reeves and his complex, cordial relationship with Five Civilized Tribes sheriff Lighthorse (Chaske Spencer) and a mysterious thunder-powered woman named Ahni (Cree Summer).
While historical injustice can be a complex tightrope to walk, especially in a genre show like this, the show’s team of Black (Chad Handley) and Native American (Anthony Florez) writers makes their conversation about existential racial exhaustion feel nuanced and viscerally timely. The steampunk elements function as a conduit for themes of morality, justice, and retribution through a marginalized lens moving through an unjust America.
Nevertheless, “Bass X Machina” is among the finest original animated series to come out this year. As action-packed as it is thought-provoking, it’s a sharp straight‑shooter that, while not hitting all its marks, makes for a strong-armed binge.
All episodes screened for review. Streaming on Netflix November 3rd.
