U.S. Marshal Bass Reeves was a real person; Reeves’ remarkable biopic, in which an escaped slave becomes a groundbreaking lawman, inspired a Taylor Sheridan show and HBO’s “Watchmen” series, among other pieces of popular culture. Created by LeSean Thomas (“Yasuke”) and produced by Korean company Studio Mir (“The Legend of Korra”), the Netflix animated series “Bass x Machina” centers on the Reeves version, voiced with great solemnity by executive producer Brian Tyree Henry. But Reeves’ presence and the recent Civil War are all about “Bass x Machina” borrowing from real history. Everything else, starting with Bass’ robotic arm, is an amazing invention.
This steampunkized version of the Old West is filled with bull-shaped mechanical suits, ridiculous weapons, lightning-controlling women, and other creations brought to life in anime-inspired style. But even a world where Bass can fire lasers from his left appendage is not immune from the harsh constraints of prejudice. A bounty hunter in his pre-Marshal days, Bass is still haunted by memories of the battle in which he obtained his arm in a grisly experiment from a fugitive Confederate commander, the Mengele-like General Rivenbark (Currie Graham). Bass may be free and happily married, with a third child on the way, but even at the frontier Blacks’ rewards are half that of whites.
“Bass x Machina” is reminiscent of “Blue Eye Samurai,” another Netflix animated series that transplants modern views on race and representation into a highly mythological bygone era. “Bass x Machina” liberally trades on established tropes of Western storytelling as Bass signs on for one last bounty job and reluctantly sets off for the Wasteland with a precocious child (Dana Starr (Tati Gabrielle), an aspiring engineer searching for her missing uncle). What’s different are the elements the show chooses to emphasize: Members of the Choctaw nation, like Bass himself and his friend Lighthorse (Chaske Spencer), and a group of mystics who control the elements known as the Holy People, have always been part of the fabric of America. “Bass x Machina” amps those up and ups the badass quotient with figures like Native inventor Etta (Starletta DuPois), who outfits her hideout with electric fruit trees. “This is not magic; this is ours science,” Etta explains, explaining her methods by pushing back against the reductive dichotomy between noble savage and civilized society.
As Bass ponders his Marshal job, the series ponders real ideas about what it means to represent a social order that would otherwise be indifferent to his humanity. A routine train robbery of a high-tech monorail with still racially segregated cars turns into an argument about breaking or obeying laws that were never designed to protect you. Ahni (Cree Summer), a lightning wielder with a mysterious connection to Bass and his past, brands him an enemy for not joining his fierce fight; Meanwhile, his wife Glory (Janelle Monáe, who also sings the theme song) tells Bass not to let her anger consume her, lest her husband become a worse man than the one she married.
But “Bass x Machina” clearly balances such ethical dilemmas with a good time. Dana’s keen interest in the wonders of the industrial age is also partly related to the series. When an entire building grows legs and starts walking, or a woman takes out a gang of ex-Confederate murderers in flames, it’s great to watch, no matter what the (alternative) historical context. “Bass x Machina” is fun to think about, but also easy to watch.
All six episodes of “Bass x Machina” are now streaming on Netflix.