Series review: The Waterfront

Netflix’s The Waterfront arrives with a salty breeze of ambition, aiming to blend crime thriller tropes with emotionally charged family dynamics — all set against the sun-drenched, morally murky waters of a fictional North Carolina fishing town. 

While the show doesn’t reinvent the genre, it delivers exactly what it promises — pulpy, binge-worthy drama that hooks viewers early and refuses to let go.

Created by Kevin Williamson (who also created Scream, The Vampire Diaries), The Waterfront follows the Buckley family, longtime proprietors of Havenport’s seafood empire, who moonlight as the town’s most powerful drug smugglers. The balance begins to tip when patriarch Harlan Buckley (Holt McCallany) thrusts his volatile son Cane (Jake Weary) into a leadership role he neither wants nor is prepared for. What follows is a descent into betrayal, turf wars, and old secrets clawing their way to the surface.

One of the show’s most compelling assets is its tone. Visually, it’s a slick affair — Atlantic blues, weathered boats, and neon-lit interiors establish a vibe somewhere between Ozark and Bloodline, but with a glossier, more stylized presentation. Yet narratively, it leans hard into its soapier instincts. Affairs, secret pregnancies, DEA surveillance, and even a boat explosion —The Waterfront knows exactly what it is and revels in its excess.

Amid the chaos, the performances carry surprising emotional weight. Melissa Benoist (from Supergirl) plays Bree Buckley, the prodigal daughter and a recovering addict who returns home to care for her father and young son. Benoist’s portrayal grounds the series with a subtlety that’s rare in ensemble dramas of this tone. Her arc oscillating between guilt, resilience, and a long-simmering rage adds real texture to the show’s emotional undercurrent. In lesser hands, Bree could’ve been a stock character. But Benoist injects her with a mix of weariness and fire, turning what might’ve been a one-note role into the show’s emotional centrepiece.

Then there’s Topher Grace, who delivers a revelatory performance as Grady Knox, a smooth-talking, morally ambiguous logistics consultant who may be more involved in the Buckley family’s operation than he lets on. Grace is sly and magnetic, his usual boyish charm weaponized into something far more slippery. Critics might call his presence a bit of a stunt cast, but Grace exceeds expectations with a performance that is both unpredictable and quietly menacing.

If the show falters, it’s in its pacing and script. The first three episodes front load so many twists and dramatic turns that the latter half occasionally struggles to keep momentum without resorting to increasingly implausible developments. Dialogue can be clunky, particularly in exposition-heavy scenes, and some of the supporting characters — like DEA agent Marcus Sanchez or Bree’s ex-husband — feel underwritten, more like chess pieces than fully realized people.

Still, The Waterfront succeeds in its primary aim — it entertains. It may not be prestige television, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s sharp, watchable, and elevated by a cast that takes its material seriously. For viewers tired of slow-burn dramas or procedural fatigue, this offers a juicy alternative: fast-paced, emotionally messy, and confidently pulpy.

Ultimately, The Waterfront lands somewhere between guilty pleasure and character-driven thriller. It’s the kind of show you start on a Friday night and finish by Saturday afternoon — not because it’s short, but because it refuses to let you go.

Anchored by Benoist’s grounded performance and Grace’s surprise turn as an anti-hero, it’s a ride worth taking — even if the waters get a little choppy.