‘East Of Eden’ review: brutal American epic powered by Florence Pugh

It hardly needs to be said at this point but the easiest way to make anything better is to add Florence Pugh. East Of Eden proves this once more. The Netflix miniseries starts with her character Cathy, beaten and bloody, dragging herself over the threshold of the Trask brothers’ house. Appalled, they take her in but soon they’re arguing over this mystery woman’s motives, while Cathy sits upstairs and eavesdrops on them both. What’s going on behind her eyes? Pugh makes sure we’re kept guessing.

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So begins the latest adaptation of John Steinbeck’s Cain and Abel-inspired fable: an epic tale of suffering and self-determination in which almost all the characters end up roundly miserable. Written and executive-produced by Hollywood star Zoe Kazan (whose grandfather, Elia, directed the celebrated 1955 film adaptation), this is a version that goes heavy with its mournful string soundtrack and all-star cast.

But they’re worth the investment, because there’s plenty of meat in this multigenerational saga. Cathy’s arrival merely accelerates the slow-burning rift between Adam and Charles Trask, here played with a touching reserve by Christopher Abbott and a furious defiance by Mike Faist.

Slow and sedate, the show’s pacing gives every facet of the story time to breathe. Abused by their Civil War veteran father Cyrus growing up, Adam and Charles’ childhood closeness is shattered when he sends the shy Adam off to war and tells the boisterous Charles to work the family farm. Fifteen years later, the estranged pair discover that Cyrus left them a small fortune – and their disagreement over how to spend it is inflamed by Cathy’s arrival.

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There’s more to Cathy than meets the eye – and most of it quite dark. In search of an easy score, she seduces and marries Adam. But, unhappy with his plans for them both, she sets about carving her own path in the most destructive way possible. “Marriage isn’t so easy to undo,” Charles tells Cathy at one point. “No,” she replies. “But perhaps it can be slipped out of, like a poorly made knot.”

Make no mistake: alongside moments of lyricism, East Of Eden can be harrowing. In one scene, Cathy is beaten almost to death by her abusive lover. Later on, she performs an attempted abortion with a knitting needle while an oblivious Adam shops for their dream home.

Pugh is consistently stupendous. While the book paints Cathy as a fallen woman, Kazan handles her far more deftly. This Cathy has an almost slippery quality to her: unknowable to the viewer and the two hapless men in thrall to her. But she’s also constrained by the attitudes of the time, some of which reverberate ominously into the present day. After her attempted abortion, the doctor first threatens to charge her then advises not to try any “nasty tricks” again. Even Adam, supposedly a good man, wastes no time laying down the law. “With time, you will be happy,” he tells her, explaining his decision to move them both to California. Never mind what she wants in this situation.

As the show moves from Connecticut to the Salinas Valley, the colour palette changes from soft greens to gorgeous sun-dappled browns; we meet Lee (Hoon Lee) and Samuel Hamilton (Ciarán Hinds), as well as Cathy and Adam’s children (Cal and Aron) who seem doomed to inherit the sins of their parents.

It’s all very literary, with a capital L: a sprawling tale of the sort that suits the wide-open landscapes and infinite possibility of the American dream. Kazan has made a worthy successor to her grandfather’s seminal masterpiece; this is East Of Eden for a 21st-century audience.