Paul San Miguel

Jason Bourne meets Hallmark melodrama. This series aspires to be a high-stakes espionage thriller but ends up feeling like Jason Bourne filtered through the writing and acting style of a Hallmark movie or soap opera. While it gestures at suspense and mystery, the plotlines are overly manufactured, and conflicts resolve far too quickly to be satisfying. Larger arcs—like the mystery of Jane’s identity, who controls her, and why—are disjointed, muddled, and meander inconsistently from episode to episode. That this show ran for five seasons is nothing short of baffling. Jane (or Remi or Taylor, depending on the moment) has amnesia but turns out to be a highly trained soldier with ambiguous loyalties. Like Bourne, she uncovers clues to her past—except hers are tattooed on her body, a gimmicky and implausible plot device that somehow always leads to perfectly timed breakthroughs. The team NEVER misses. The formula quickly grows predictable: discover tattoo, interpret it in the nick of time, avert disaster: rinse and repeat. Jaimie Alexander’s portrayal of Jane is inconsistent. At times, she’s a capable operative; at others, she crumbles under the emotional pressure of Kurt Weller’s unresolved masculinity. She’s written as a contradiction: assertive when nuance is needed and passive when strength is required. The character never fully finds its center. Kurt, played by Sullivan Stapleton, is a study in one-note rage. His anger is often misplaced: directed at Jane for her amnesia, at Mayfair for doing her job albeit unethically at times, at Edgar and Sarah for their relationship (and later, for ending it), and even at his own father. The character lacks the emotional range, strategic thinking, or authority to be believable as a Team Leader or Assistant Director. Stapleton’s performance leans heavily into overacting, particularly in his angry outbursts. Edgar lacks backbone, unable to confront his own trauma or stand up to Kurt regarding his relationship with Kurt’s sister Sarah. Tasha begins as morally compromised yet quickly adopts a hypocritical moral high ground. Her reckless gambling endangers the team, and when she ultimately defies Carter, that momentarily redeeming act spirals into consequences that include Mayfair’s death. Her decision to shoot Jane is less about justice and more about self-projection. If her anger is rooted in guilt, the writing does little to explore that depth. Ashley Johnson’s Patterson is one of the show’s few consistently believable characters. Johnson brings intelligence and subtlety to the role, though it strains credibility when Patterson, a seasoned FBI tech, smuggles classified materials out of the office. Still, her performance is a rare bright spot. The brightest light, however, is Marianne Jean-Baptiste’s portrayal of Mayfair—grounded, intelligent, and emotionally complex. Unfortunately, she’s written off too soon, depriving the series of one of its few compelling figures. In the end, the series feels like it wants to be a tense, twisty thriller, but it rarely earns those stakes. The writing undercuts its potential at every turn. The acting is inconsistent and lacks credibility. Honestly? I’d rather watch a Hallmark movie.