Let’s get this out of the way: Twisted Metal, Peacock’s attempt to turn a 90s PlayStation car-smashing game into a TV show, is the kind of thing you’d expect from a streaming service desperate to justify its existence. It’s loud, it’s bloody, it’s got Anthony Mackie driving a beat-up Subaru with a “Got Milk?” sticker, and it’s trying so hard to be cool that you can practically hear the executives sweating through their Zoom calls.

But does it work? Spoiler: not really, but it’s not a total wreck either.

The premise is simple enough—think Mad Max meets The Last of Us, but with the depth of a kiddie pool. It’s 2002, the internet’s gone kaput thanks to a Y2K virus (remember those?), and America’s a wasteland of walled cities and roving lunatics. Mackie plays John Doe, a motormouthed “milkman” who delivers packages across this hellscape for a shot at a cushy life in New San Francisco. He’s joined by Quiet (Stephanie Beatriz), a carjacker with a vendetta, and they bicker their way through a dystopia filled with psychos like Sweet Tooth, a clown-masked nutcase voiced by Will Arnett and bodied by wrestler Joe Seanoa. The plot’s a delivery quest with a side of vehicular carnage, culminating in a tease of the game’s iconic demolition derby tournament.

Here’s the good: Mackie’s charisma carries this thing like Atlas holding up the world. The man could sell sand in a desert, and his wise-cracking John Doe is the only reason you’ll keep watching past the first episode. Beatriz is solid too, grounding the show when it threatens to spin off into cartoonland. The action’s decent when it happens—cars explode, heads roll, and there’s a certain dumb joy in watching Sweet Tooth’s ice cream truck mow down goons to the tune of Sisqo’s “Thong Song.” It’s not high art, but it’s got enough grit to keep you from changing the channel.

Now the bad, and oh boy, there’s plenty. The show’s humor is like a drunk uncle at a wedding—thinks it’s hilarious, but everyone else is cringing. Every other scene is slathered with ironic 90s pop songs (“MMMBop,” “Barbie Girl,” “Champagne Supernova”), as if the writers figured a Spotify playlist could substitute for wit. It’s not clever; it’s lazy. The world-building is flimsier than a politician’s promise—why are these cities walled? What’s the deal with the Y2K virus? Who cares, here’s another explosion! The supporting cast, including Thomas Haden Church as a deranged cop, feels like they’re in a different show, one that’s trying to be The Umbrella Academy but forgot the charm. And for a series based on a game about car combat, there’s shockingly little of it until the finale, which teases a tournament that should’ve been the whole damn point.

Look, I’m not saying Twisted Metal needed to be The Last of Us. The source material is a game about blowing up cars, not reciting Shakespeare. But when you’re adapting something this thin, you’ve got to bring something to the table—heart, brains, or at least consistent laughs. Instead, we get a show that’s too in love with its own edginess to notice it’s running on fumes. It’s like a mullet: fun in the front, messy in the back, and nobody takes it seriously.

Peacock’s betting on nostalgia and Mackie’s star power to carry this, and it might work for folks who can turn off their brains and embrace their inner 12-year-old. Season 2, which dropped July 31, 2025, promises more of the tournament, which is a step in the right direction. But if they don’t tighten the screws—less needle-drop nonsense, more actual car-nage—this thing’s gonna stall out faster than a clunker in the desert. Watch it for Mackie, skip it for depth. Your call.

SEATON’S RATING: ***1/2 for Season 1