Why The Underground Railroad TV Series Is Hard to Watch but Impossible to Ignore

Why The Underground Railroad TV Series Is Hard to Watch but Impossible to Ignore

Honestly, Barry Jenkins didn't just make a TV show. He made a portal. When The Underground Railroad TV series landed on Amazon Prime Video in 2021, it didn't feel like the typical historical drama we’ve seen a thousand times before. It wasn't Roots. It wasn't 12 Years a Slave. It was something stranger, more lyrical, and frankly, a lot more terrifying.

You’ve probably heard people talk about "trauma porn." It’s a term that gets thrown around a lot whenever a director decides to tackle the antebellum South. But Jenkins, fresh off his Oscar win for Moonlight, did something different here. He took Colson Whitehead’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel—which imagines the Underground Railroad as a literal, physical train system—and turned it into a 10-episode odyssey that feels like a fever dream. It’s a story about Cora, a young woman fleeing a Georgia plantation, but it's really about the psychological architecture of America itself.

It’s heavy. It’s long. It’s gorgeous. And if you haven't seen it yet, you're missing out on what might be the most ambitious piece of television produced in the last decade.

The Literal Engine of The Underground Railroad TV Series

The big "hook" of the show is the train. In real life, the Underground Railroad was a loose network of safe houses and brave individuals. In The Underground Railroad TV series, it's an actual subterranean railway with steam engines, conductors, and stations hidden beneath the soil.

Some historians initially worried this would "Disney-fy" the struggle or make it feel like a fantasy novel. They were wrong. By making the railroad a physical thing, Jenkins highlights the sheer industrial scale of the effort required to escape. It makes the journey feel more tangible. When Cora, played by the incredible Thuso Mbedu, steps onto those tracks, you feel the cold air of the tunnels. You hear the screech of metal on metal.

Mbedu is a revelation. Before this, she was mostly known for her work in South African television, but here, she carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her face is a landscape. She can communicate more with a single blink than most actors can with a five-minute monologue. She’s pursued by Ridgeway, played by Joel Edgerton, a slave catcher who views his job not just as a profession, but as a philosophical necessity. He’s obsessed with the "American imperative," and his hunt for Cora is personal.

👉 See also: Is Heroes and Villains Legit? What You Need to Know Before Buying

This Isn't Just "Another History Lesson"

One of the biggest misconceptions about this show is that it’s just a chronological retelling of slavery. It’s not. Each episode feels like a different genre. One chapter might feel like a paranoid thriller in a South Carolina skyscraper where things are just a little too perfect. The next might feel like a folk horror story in the scorched woods of North Carolina.

The South Carolina episode is particularly haunting. It presents a version of "progress" where Black people are given jobs, clothes, and healthcare, only to realize there is a sinister, eugenicist undercurrent to it all. It’s a sharp critique of paternalism that feels incredibly modern. You start to realize that Cora isn't just running away from a plantation; she’s running through different versions of American systemic control.

Nicholas Britell’s score is doing a lot of the heavy lifting here too. If you’ve seen Succession, you know his work. But for The Underground Railroad TV series, he swaps the sharp, cynical strings for something more ethereal and grounding. The music sounds like earth and wind. It’s beautiful, but it never lets you feel fully safe.

Why the Cinematography Matters

James Laxton, the cinematographer, uses a lot of natural light. There are these long, lingering shots where the characters look directly into the camera. They call them "the portraits." It’s a technique Jenkins uses to reclaim the gaze of the people who were historically treated as property. When Cora looks at you, she isn't a victim. She’s a witness.

The colors are vibrant. The greens of the Georgia woods are lush, almost suffocating. The oranges of the fires are blinding. It’s a visually stunning show, which almost makes the violence harder to stomach because the backdrop is so breathtakingly beautiful. It creates a cognitive dissonance that keeps you on edge.

✨ Don't miss: Jack Blocker American Idol Journey: What Most People Get Wrong

Addressing the "Trauma" Conversation

Let’s be real: people are tired of seeing Black suffering on screen. There was a lot of debate when the show premiered about whether we needed more of this. It’s a valid question. Why spend ten hours watching someone be hunted?

But The Underground Railroad TV series isn't interested in just showing pain for the sake of it. It’s interested in the aftermath of pain. It’s about how Cora tries to build a soul for herself after being told she doesn't have one. There’s a community called Valentine Farm that appears later in the series—a Black utopia where people farm, read, and debate. It represents the hope that sits on the other side of the tunnel.

The show argues that the "railroad" isn't just about moving from Point A to Point B. It’s about the mental transition from being "owned" to being "self-owned." That is a much more complex story than a simple escape narrative.

Behind the Scenes: The Scale of the Production

Barry Jenkins didn't take any shortcuts. They filmed on actual plantations. They built actual train stations. The production design by Mark Friedberg is staggering in its detail. You can see the grime under the fingernails; you can see the wear and tear on the locomotive.

Interestingly, Jenkins hired a therapist to be on set for the cast and crew. He recognized that recreating these scenes day after day takes a psychological toll. That’s the kind of care that shows up on screen. You can tell this wasn't just a "job" for the people involved. It was a mission.

🔗 Read more: Why American Beauty by the Grateful Dead is Still the Gold Standard of Americana

Key Facts About the Production

  • Directed by: Barry Jenkins (all 10 episodes).
  • Based on: The 2016 novel by Colson Whitehead.
  • Filming Locations: Mostly in Georgia, including Savannah and surrounding counties.
  • Key Cast: Thuso Mbedu, Joel Edgerton, Chase W. Dillon (who plays the terrifyingly loyal young assistant, Homer), and William Jackson Harper.
  • Release Date: May 14, 2021, on Amazon Prime.

The show didn't get the massive viewership numbers that something like The Boys or Rings of Power got. It’s a slow burn. It requires your full attention. You can't really "second screen" this show. If you look down at your phone, you'll miss a subtle shift in Cora's expression or a piece of visual symbolism that ties the whole episode together.

How to Approach Watching It

If you’re planning to dive into The Underground Railroad TV series, don't binge it. Seriously. It’s too much.

Watch one episode. Let it sit. Read about the historical context of that specific "stop" on the railroad. The show is dense with references to real events, like the Tuskegee Syphilis Study (alluded to in the South Carolina chapter) or the various "Black Laws" that existed in the North.

Actionable Steps for the Viewer:

  1. Read the Book First (or After): Colson Whitehead’s prose is very different from Jenkins’ visual style. The book is more detached and clinical, while the show is deeply emotional. Comparing the two is a masterclass in adaptation.
  2. Focus on the Sound: Use a good pair of headphones or a decent soundbar. The sound design—the insects buzzing, the wind in the grass, the distant train whistle—is half the experience.
  3. Check Out the Companion Pieces: Barry Jenkins released a non-narrative short film called The Gaze alongside the series. It’s just a series of portraits of the background actors in costume, looking at the camera. It’s a powerful way to humanize the history.
  4. Look for the Symbolism: Pay attention to the recurring motifs of okra, fire, and the "American Imperative." The show rewards repeat viewings.

The series ends not with a neat resolution, but with a sense of ongoing movement. Cora is still traveling. The "railroad" is never really finished. It’s a haunting reminder that history isn't something that stayed in the past—it’s something we’re still riding through.

If you’re looking for a show that will challenge you, break your heart, and then somehow piece it back together with a glimmer of hope, this is it. It’s a towering achievement in television. Go watch it, but take your time. You'll need it.