DYSG Media Review of ‘Lanterns’

Warning: Spoilers for Season One of HBO's Lanterns follow.

Before Lanterns premiered, fans were given several descriptions of the show by its producers, writers, and executives at DC Studios. A grounded terrestrial mystery. A buddy-cop dynamic. True Detective with superheroes. Cosmic stakes with human failure.

Whether you enjoyed the show or not, I would argue that the people responsible for creating it delivered on those promises. One hundred percent.

And if you went into this series expecting eight episodes of intergalactic adventures, spectacular ring constructs, and the Green Lantern Corps waging war across the universe, I have a question: Did you listen to a single thing the creative team said before the premiere?

Because I did. And I had a damn good time.

I Know Ball!

Let me establish something before we go any further: I know my ring-slinging.

Geoff Johns' Green Lantern run, from Rebirth through Blackest Night, is one of my all-time favorites. I'm a big fan of Emerald Twilight and Zero Hour. I've enjoyed both volumes of Earth One. War of the Green Lanterns, Kyle Rayner's journey toward the White Light, and the many different corners of Green Lantern mythology have all contributed to my appreciation for these characters.

I KNOW BALL!

But being a longtime fan doesn't mean I need every adaptation to replicate my favorite comic book stories. Nor does it mean I should enter a new series with a list of demands that its creators never promised to fulfill.

I went into Lanterns with an open mind and the expectations established by the people making the show. I wanted to see whether they could tell a compelling story with these characters, even if that story looked different from what I might have chosen.

And, for the most part, they absolutely did.

Two Lanterns, One Hell of a Partnership

The relationship between Hal Jordan and John Stewart is the backbone of this series. Hal clearly doesn't want to train John. John, meanwhile, carries himself with the energy of a man who would very much appreciate it if his mentor stopped talking and handed over the ring.

Hal's attitude is essentially, "I don't want to be here." 

John's is, "I don't need you to be here."

Neither man is particularly interested in making the other's life easier.

What makes this dynamic work is that their hostility isn't simply a matter of two stubborn personalities clashing. As the series reveals more about the circumstances that brought them into this trainer-and-trainee arrangement, their behavior begins to make considerably more sense.

Their apathy, their minimal tolerance for one another, and their reluctance to communicate become parts of a much larger character study.

It's good television because the relationship feels earned. These are two men with different experiences, expectations, and emotional baggage being forced into a partnership neither particularly wants.

And as the mystery surrounding Rushville unfolds, the series gradually reveals that they might have more in common than either is willing to admit.

Hal Jordan: A Hero Who Needed Saving

Kyle Chandler gives us a Hal Jordan who has lived long enough to accumulate a considerable amount of baggage.

His father's death, his place as Earth's first Green Lantern, the loneliness that accompanies his life among the stars, and his desire to earn Sinestro's approval all contribute to the man we meet.

Hal has spent much of his life trying to live up to expectations, whether those expectations come from his father, his former mentor, or the responsibility of representing Earth in an organization populated by beings from across the universe.

But being a hero on a cosmic scale doesn't automatically make you a better person on your own planet.

One of the show's more uncomfortable threads is Hal's relationship with race and his treatment of John. Was Hal a racist? I wouldn't reduce his entire character to that label. However, his experiences among different species and civilizations don't necessarily mean he's developed an understanding of the inequalities and prejudices affecting people in his own backyard. This is super evident in the conversation between Lianna and Bernadette.

There's a difference between encountering alien civilizations and confronting the uncomfortable realities of your own society. Hal's experiences don't exempt him from that responsibility.

The aftermath of Rushville's destruction becomes instrumental in his relationship with humanity and, particularly, John. The man who has spent years carrying the burdens of others must confront the consequences of his own limitations.

And then there's the beautiful irony of Hal ultimately becoming his own saving grace through the consciousness preserved by his ring. For a man who has struggled with loneliness, it is fitting that a version of himself becomes the companion who can actually help guide John forward.

Sometimes the person who can help us understand ourselves is the person we used to be.

John Stewart: The Burden of Becoming Someone Else's Dream

John Stewart's story might be the most compelling part of the series for me.

His journey begins long before Hal ever enters the picture. John has spent much of his life being prepared for a future that other people have envisioned for him.

His father has a dream. His mother has expectations. His military background reinforces discipline, duty, and obedience. Even the tests and isolation he experiences throughout his upbringing seem designed to prepare him for a particular role.

But where does John fit into all of this?

There's a void of self-identity here that resonated with me. For many Black children, the pursuit of a "better life" can become an obligation passed down from one generation to the next. Parents who have experienced disappointment or missed opportunities sometimes place the burden of achieving those dreams on their children.

"I wanted to do this. I couldn't. Now it's your turn."

The intention may come from love, but the consequences can be complicated. A child can spend so much time becoming the person everyone else needs that they never get the opportunity to discover who they actually are.

John's life has been a preparation for service. His military career, the tests, the isolation from his brothers, and the expectations placed upon him have all helped shape the man he becomes.

But being prepared for a job isn't the same as understanding yourself.

And imagine how lonely the life of a space cop must be. We see how Hal has handled that loneliness over the years. John, meanwhile, is preparing to inherit that burden while still wrestling with the expectations that brought him here in the first place.

That emotional vulnerability also makes him susceptible to manipulation. Men who have spent their lives starved for affection can be especially vulnerable when someone finally makes them feel wanted. John didn't stand much of a chance against Zoe's advances.

Considering who—and what—Zoe actually is, it's fair to wonder whether John was ever truly in control of that situation.

The man has spent his life being shaped by other people's expectations. Now, even his personal relationships threaten to become another way someone else can shape his future.

Hal's Death Changes Everything

Hal's death isn't merely a dramatic turning point. It creates room for several characters to develop in ways that would have been difficult while he was still alive. John and Sheriff Kerry Kane benefit most directly from that shift.

John returns to Rushville hardened by the destruction of the town. His language becomes more rigid, and the emotional distance he has maintained throughout much of the season takes on a different character. With Hal gone, John has to confront feelings he never properly expressed. His grief becomes an opportunity to reckon with his mentor, his own identity, and the complicated relationships waiting for him back home.

Strangely, losing Hal gives John the opportunity to make peace with parts of himself that he might otherwise have continued avoiding.

And then there's Kerry.

Hal's relationship with Kerry creates an interesting juxtaposition with John's relationship with Zoe. Both Lanterns find themselves drawn into relationships that complicate their understanding of the people around them. But Hal and John approach vulnerability from different places, and those differences matter. Hal's romance gives us the opportunity to see a softer side of him in his final days.

Also, I need somebody to explain the cowboy boots in the bed while everybody's naked.

Sir. SIR. What are we doing here? 😂

But the humor aside, Kerry's motivations become increasingly important as we learn more about her circumstances and the secrets surrounding her family.

Self-preservation has always been a significant part of her character. Even when her actions are motivated by protecting her child, they ultimately reflect her own priorities and the lengths she's willing to go to protect what matters to her. The series asks us to sit with that uncomfortable reality: people can love someone deeply and still make choices that hurt others. Love doesn't automatically make a person selfless.

Also, now, maybe I'm reading too much into a surname. Maybe it's just a name. But this is DC Comics we're talking about, and when you introduce a character carrying the Kane name, you have my attention. Looking at you, Tom King.

Guy Gardner: “F*ck That Guy”

Nathan Fillion continues to shine as Guy Gardner, my least favorite Green Lantern of Earth.

And I mean that affectionately.

His banter with John feels as though it was lifted straight from the comics. Fillion understands Guy's particular brand of arrogance, his obnoxious confidence, and the way he can make a perfectly reasonable conversation feel like an endurance test.

He's a welcome presence in a show that otherwise spends much of its time exploring its characters' emotional burdens.

Guy Gardner doesn't necessarily need to be the smartest person in the room. He just needs to be the loudest one.

And Nathan Fillion knows exactly what he's doing.

Sinestro Needed More Fear

On the other hand, I wanted a little more from Ulrich Thomsen's Sinestro.

I don't think the performance was terrible, but I do think Thomsen could have dialed things up a notch.

Sinestro is one of the most formidable figures in Green Lantern mythology. He's a former mentor, a brilliant strategist, a dangerous adversary, and a character whose understanding of order and fear makes him a compelling ideological opponent for the Corps.

Mark Strong's interpretation in the much-maligned Green Lantern film gave audiences a glimpse of how intimidating Sinestro can be. And yes, I'm acknowledging that the critically despised 2011 film gave us something worth appreciating.

Thomsen's version serves the story, but I wanted more menace. More presence. More of that feeling that the moment Sinestro enters a room, everyone should immediately reconsider their next move.

Given the importance of fear to the larger mythology, I hope a potential second season gives him more room to demonstrate why he's such a significant threat.

"It's Too Grounded!"

The criticism that Lanterns is too grounded is one I find difficult to take seriously. The creative team told us what kind of show this was going to be. They described a terrestrial mystery, a buddy-cop drama, and a superhero story influenced by True Detective.

They did not promise a cosmic war epic.

So when I see complaints about John not flying until the final scene, or about the lack of a traditional Green Lantern suit, I have to shake my head.

I understand wanting to see the spectacle. I love Green Lantern mythology precisely because of the extraordinary possibilities that come with the rings. The constructs, the alien worlds, the Corps, and the Emotional Spectrum are all things I want to see explored.

But there's a time and place for everything. A grounded story can explore a character's humanity before showcasing the full extent of their powers. In fact, understanding who a hero is before watching them become a larger-than-life figure can make that transformation more meaningful.

Some of these complaints make me wonder whether certain fans could have mentally survived all ten seasons of Smallville.

And if you want to talk about pacing, I survived Titans. The CW's Arrow trained me to handle time jumps, shifting timelines, and extended detours.

Lanterns wasn't going to break me.

Would I have preferred slightly faster pacing? Absolutely. There were moments when the story could have moved more efficiently.

But the pacing never became so sluggish that I lost the plot or stopped caring about the characters. The mystery remained compelling, and the emotional stakes kept me invested.

That's a “W” in my book.

A Cast That Understood the Assignment

Beyond the two leads, the cast does an excellent job bringing this world to life.

The performances make Rushville feel like a community rather than simply a backdrop for an alien investigation. The characters have their own motivations, secrets, loyalties, and personal histories, and those elements give the mystery its weight.

And if I can be real, Maggie wouldn’t have got a damn dime out of me. Not one!

But John's vulnerability following Hal's death plays a part in how that situation unfolds. Grief can leave a person desperate for connection, and that desperation can cloud their judgment.

The series doesn't always make its characters easy to like, but it generally gives us enough context to understand them. That's a worthwhile distinction.

The Easter eggs were also handled exceptionally well. The Carol Ferris cameo and Hal's references to Mogo and B'gd were wonderful little treats for longtime readers. They rewarded people who know their Green Lantern lore without requiring everyone else to understand every reference. That's how you do fan service. You give the longtime readers a reason to smile while allowing newcomers to remain invested in the story they're watching.

Why Rushville Works

One of the smartest decisions the creative team made was placing this story in the American heartland.

Green Lantern mythology is inherently extraordinary. We're talking about intergalactic law enforcement, alien civilizations, ancient cosmic forces, and rings capable of turning willpower into tangible constructs.

That material practically begs for spectacle.

Instead, Lanterns places its central mystery in a small town where people know one another, family histories carry weight, and personal secrets can become everyone's business.

The contrast is brilliant.

The cosmic elements become more unsettling when they intrude upon an environment that feels familiar. The characters aren't simply investigating another alien incident somewhere in the universe. They're dealing with the consequences of extraordinary events in a place where ordinary people have to live with the aftermath.

Rushville grounds the story emotionally even when its mythology reaches beyond the Earth. And that setting reinforces one of the series' central ideas: no matter how powerful you become, you cannot escape the human consequences of your choices. You can travel across the universe and still carry the same unresolved problems home with you.

The Future of the Lanterns

The title Lanterns also has me and other fans thinking about what could come next.

The Green Lantern mythos extends well beyond Hal Jordan and John Stewart. The Emotional Spectrum opens the door to an entire universe of possibilities, with different Lantern Corps representing different emotions and philosophies.

Sinestro's gift to John feels particularly significant in that context.

I don't want to jump to conclusions about where the story might go, but I could absolutely see a future season introducing more of the Emotional Spectrum and expanding the mythology beyond the narrow confines of the first season's mystery.

Imagine what happens when this grounded storytelling approach begins exploring the wider cosmic landscape.

Imagine the opportunities for conflict, character development, and ideological clashes when John encounters other Lanterns who see the universe through entirely different emotional lenses.

There's a lot of potential here.

Whether the creative team chooses to explore those possibilities remains to be seen, but I'd love to see the series continue long enough to find out.

Final Verdict: 9/10

Lanterns isn't the Green Lantern show every fan wanted. It's the Green Lantern show its creators told us they were making. And I think that distinction matters.

The series delivers a compelling mystery, a fascinating relationship between Hal Jordan and John Stewart, thoughtful explorations of family and identity, and a setting that makes its extraordinary mythology feel surprisingly intimate.

The pacing could have been tighter. Sinestro could have been more imposing. And, speaking strictly as a longtime fan, I certainly wouldn't complain about a little more ring-slinging spectacle.

But those shortcomings don't outweigh what the series accomplishes.

More importantly, Lanterns understands that the power ring isn't what makes a Green Lantern interesting. It's the person wearing it.

Hal Jordan is a complicated man trying to reconcile the hero he has been with the person he still needs to become. John Stewart is a man learning to distinguish his own identity from the expectations others have placed upon him.

Their partnership gives us a story about mentorship, responsibility, grief, and the difficult process of becoming your own person.

That's a solid foundation for a superhero series.

So, yes, I highly recommend Lanterns.

If you came looking for a cosmic spectacle from beginning to end, you might walk away disappointed. But if you're willing to meet the show on its own terms, you'll find a thoughtful, character-driven story that understands the value of taking its time with the people behind the powers.

And if DC gives us another season, I hope we get to see this universe expand without losing what made the first season work.

Final score: 9/10.

In brightest day, in blackest night, this Lantern fan is satisfied.