'Lights Out' review: Drama earns shot at the title

With its new dramatic series, "Lights Out," premiering Tuesday night, FX is hoping they can, just the way, say, mobster life and the comfortable Jersey suburbs worked for HBO a few years back.

Patrick "Lights" Leary (Holt McCallany) is a former heavyweight boxing champ who is five years away from his last bout, trying to raise three daughters while his wife, Theresa (Catherine McCormack), is pursuing a medical residency at a local New Jersey hospital.

On the surface, life couldn't be better for the 40-year-old retired boxer, except that Lights is getting a little tired of playing Mr. Mom and is longing to return to the ring. He's also broke, thanks in large part to his slimeball brother Johnny (Pablo Schreiber), who's supposedly managing not only Lights' $12 million nest egg but also that of their father, Pops (Stacy Keach).

Yes, the show is set in New Jersey, and these days, if a show is set in Jersey, you automatically think either "The Sopranos," "Jersey Shore" or "Real Housewives of New Jersey." Fortunately, the writers of "Lights Out" have been influenced by "The Sopranos" more than the other two.

Lights' complex moral structure isn't too far removed from that of Tony Soprano. On the one hand, he's a devoted father and husband. On the other, he lies to Theresa about their financial problems. And even five episodes into the series, when she finally learns about how deep a hole they are in, Lights is still lying to her about how deeply he's also becoming involved with oily mobster Hal Brennan (the extraordinary Bill Irwin in a recurring role). Of course, the more Lights tries to save himself, the more he becomes entwined with Brennan.

There are multiple subplots in "Lights Out," including Pops' attempt to turn a cocky young middleweight into a champion. Meanwhile, the guy who took Lights' belt is looking for a rematch, and you can feel the show moving inevitably toward Lights' return to the ring.

There's also the little problem of pugilistic dementia, though. Brain scans indicate some damage, but whether it will evolve into full dementia or not, and, if so, when that might happen are all unknown at this point. Again, it's a secret that Lights is keeping from Theresa, although their daughter, Daniela (Ryann Shane), has figured it out by tracing Lights' search history on the computer.

"Lights Out" has a lot of good things going for it, not the least of which are great performances by Keach, Schreiber, McCallany and Reg. E. Cathey as the cold-blooded fight promoter Barry Word. Irwin doesn't have a lot of screen time, but whenever he's on, he makes everyone else (with the exception of Keach) look like amateurs. His Hal Brennan is a smooth operator, and when a tight grin spreads across that tortoise-like face, it's chilling. As he's proved in all kinds of roles, including his amazing George in "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?," Irwin's training as a clown belies the astounding breadth of his acting abilities.

But there are some problems that need to be overcome for the show to earn its audience for the long haul. First, the show's sanitized look and languid pacing work when the focus is on the Learys' suburban home and at the kids' private school, but keep the fight scenes feeling less than believable. A show at least partially about boxing doesn't have to be "Raging Bull," but you come away from scenes at the Learys' gym wondering if you can get the number for their cleaning staff.

Second, the writers are trying hard to balance a character-driven family drama with action-packed boxing world melodrama. To do that, producer-writer Warren Leight and his team keep throwing in plot twists, mostly speed bumps on Lights Leary's moral turnpike. Some of these make it hard to believe that such an upstanding guy like Lights would also lie repeatedly to his wife, not only about the possible brain damage, but about his possible secret wish to be back in the ring.

"Lights Out" may not reach the level of "The Sopranos," but it has enough going for it to at least earn a shot at the title.

E-mail David Wiegand at dwiegand@sfchronicle.com.

This article appeared on page E - 1 of the San Francisco Chronicle