'A Man in Full' review: Tom Wolfe Netflix series is barely a glass half empty

Don't judge a book by its cover, but can you judge a TV show by its A-list pedigree? Don't bet on it.

Netflix's new Atlanta mogul miniseries "A Man in Full" certainly looks like it should be the next big thing to take over our binge-watching hours. Created by David E. Kelley and directed partly by Regina King, "Man" has all the makings of prestige television: Movie stars as the lead characters. A literary tome (Tom Wolfe's 1998 novel) as its source material. Topical storytelling. Lots of profanity.

But looks can be deceiving. "Man" (now streaming; ★ ½ out of four) is that rare disappointment that adds up to less than the sum of its parts. The series is half-formed, a rough draft for something better down the line. And all the fake Southern accents from the likes of Jeff Daniels, Diane Lane and Lucy Liu can't magically create deeper characters, better scripts, or a fuller world to immerse yourself in. It's the fast fashion of television: Trendy, pretty, but very easily falls apart.

Interview:Jeff Daniels loads up for loathing in 'A Man in Full' with big bluster, Georgia accent

Charlie Croker (Daniels) is the favorite son of Atlanta. A Georgia Tech football hero turned real estate mogul, he has everything a man of distinction could want: Money, power, a beautiful young second wife (Sarah Jones) and the adoration of high society. Except one of those things is only a facade: Croker's companies are nearly a billion dollars in debt, and the bank has come calling. That charge is led by mousy Raymond Peepgrass (Tom Pelphrey), a middle manager whose hatred of Charlie goes beyond professional rivalry, and Harry Zale (Bill Camp), an alpha male wannabe out to beat Charlie in the financial arena.

In chaos and about to lose everything, Charlie turns to his chief counsel, Roger White (Aml Ameen), a man with a strongly ingrained sense of justice, who tries to keep his hands clean amid the dirty dealings in Atlanta. Roger is currently being hounded by his old fraternity brother and incumbent mayor Wes Jordan (William Jackson Harper, "The Good Place") for help digging up dirt on his conservative opponent. And Roger is trying to help Conrad (Jon Michael Hill), a Black man who has been arrested after a racially fraught run-in with law enforcement.

Rounding out the already unwieldy story is Martha Croker (Lane), Charlie's ex-wife with plenty of hate for her former spouse, and her best friend Joyce Newman (Liu), who is trying to keep part of her past a secret amid the politicking in the city's elite.

It's a lot, and Kelley and the writers are never clear about who the star of this story really is. Is it Charlie, an Ozymandias-type king doomed to fail under his own hubris? Is it Raymond, the Iago channeling his insecurities into war with a stronger opponent? Is it Roger, a Black man torn up on the inside, a Don Quixote unsure about the realities of the world?

I'm using a lot of high-minded literary references because "Man" fancies itself a high-minded work of art, all metaphor, allegory and foils, the language of Wolfe's novel. But these devices are so weak they blow away in the wind.

The series misses the building blocks of good storytelling in pursuit of the cherries on top of the sundae. The characters aren't nearly deep enough, and it's impossible to discern most of their motivations. That's especially true of Harry, who hates Charlie for no good reason, and Martha, who has no personality that isn't related to her ex-husband. Joyce is a plot device dressed in fashionable high heels, and Charlie's wife Serena marks a criminal underuse of Jones, who proved herself deeply skilled in "For All Mankind."

Atlanta is the setting but it's meant to be more than that. It's meant to be the context of every scene and sentence of dialogue. It should be as deeply drawn as a fictional world like Westeros or Middle Earth. But other than Daniels' accent and the racist judge that Conrad faces, "Man" could be set in any major city in America. And that's not good enough.

Speaking of that accent, Daniels slathers it on his performance like too much gravy on biscuits. He seems to ooze rather than act. He's a cartoon character, which would work if the series was purely a soap opera. But it's trying. (and failing) to be more important than a soap. In one moment you see two horses mating and in another, a Black man is being swallowed whole by a legal system designed to ruin his life. The two halves don't mesh together.

There's a sense that Netflix was attempting to cash in on the lifestyles of the rich and famous schadenfreude from HBO's hit "Succession," which ended last year. But "Man" fails to achieve the scope or satire that made "Succession" so successful. There's a watchable quality you can find in any of Kelley's series. But the sheen wears off quickly. It's not addictive or delicious, no "Big Little Lies" or "Ally McBeal" drama to keep you wanting more.

Charlie can wax poetic about loyalty and goodness and masculinity all he wants, but at a certain point, "Man" becomes too easy to tune out.

And at that point, you might as well turn it off, too.