Clive Standen is forced to live up to Liam Neeson's standard in an NBC series pr

equel that takes little from the films while also adding little that's new.
The pointlessness of TV shows mining brand names reaches something of a nadir wi
th NBC's Taken, which manages simultaneously to deliver nothing relating to the
hit Liam Neeson movie franchise, while also becoming a completely different show
after its premiere episode. It's a rare double bait-and-switch that certainly d
oesn't benefit the average and forgettable show that Taken subsequently becomes
To get this out of the way up front: Taken is not a very good movie. It's a brut
ally efficient delivery mechanism for Neeson to growl and kill an astounding num
ber of foreign nationals in only 90 minutes. The sequels became increasingly les
s efficient, more sadistic and more xenophobic. The appeal of the franchise can
be boiled down to Neeson's rugged exceptionalism, a few European postcard locati
ons and the satisfying crack that comes from breaking the bones of a man who kee
ps kidnapping members of your family.
I hold Taken on no pedestal and yet whatever virtues the title denotes, the NBC
series delivers none of them.
Adapted by Alexander Cary, Taken is a conceptually odd beast, a prequel set an i
ndeterminate number of years before the events of the movie, but also in the pre
sent day. Bryan Mills (Clive Standen) is a former Green Beret whose attempts at
an ordinary life, which we see none of, are upended by a personal tragedy that l
eads him on a mission for vengeance.

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It's a premise that could have been established within 10 minutes, but then how
would we have been reminded of what a trigger it is for Bryan when bad things ar
e done to female members of his family? And how would they have fit in a scene i
n which Bryan mansplains the proper handling of a tense and dangerous circumstan
ce? It's something he does, I guess, but it plays as much more condescending in
the TV context and without Neeson's authority.
Later, in case you've forgotten what you're watching, a suspicious character jus
tifies an act of betrayal by telling Bryan, "My advice don't ever have kids, esp
ecially not a daughter." See? Eventually someday Bryan will have a daughter and
she'll be annoyingly kidnappable. Daughters, man.
For the majority of the pilot, Bryan indiscriminately dispatches hitmen and gove
rnment agents alike. This is where Taken is most similar to the movie, turning w
anton death into repetitive drudgery.
Then Bryan meets "a deputy director with special portfolio at the office of the
director of national intelligence" who recruits him to work with a team on cases
that involve more indiscriminate slaughter, but possess no visible oversight or
jurisdiction.
Somebody figured Bryan's monomaniacal drive for revenge wouldn't be enough for a
sustaining series, even though "monomaniacal" is to the Bryan Mills brand as "m
eats" is to Arby's. Making him a single cog within a unit that goes around defus
ing tense situations two episodes involve abductions, as if Taken figures that a
nybody getting taken by anybody at least makes it relevant in abandoned warehous
es, abandoned factories and other abandoned, generic sets is an odd choice.
It's not like the TV version of Bryan comes equipped with some preexisting parti
cular skills but he's being taught others. No, he's already a man capable of tak
ing out a full elite squad of thugs, with or without weaponry, so all he's learn
ing is patience and teamwork, things that we know will have absolutely nothing t
o do with the man he becomes.