Ultra City Smiths

Smiths is much more than an eccentric goof. ... What I'm describing sounds high-concept past the stratosphere: Sin City plus Labyrinth starring Serpico directed by Jacques Demy — but with toys. Yet as with all Conrad's work, the spacey oddities are grounded by low-key humane sweetness and genially tossed-off humor.

I don’t even know if it’s meant as commentary on genre and filmmaking as a whole, or the bizarre, incongruous nature of our modern reality. It might be both; it’s almost certainly more. One thing it’s not is anything less than ultra.

“Ultra City Smiths” is all about atmosphere and tone, and about fond associations with a long lineage of down-and-out, end-of-the-line New York stories like “Midnight Cowboy,” “Dog Day Afternoon” and “The Warriors.” And it’s also about imaginative voice casting. ... In “Ultra City Smiths” he is demonstrating his own sleight of hand, keeping our eyes on the screen with shadows, memories and tough-talking dolls.

It’s hard to call a series that resembles Robot Chicken by way of Team America: World Police by way of Charlie Kaufman’s Anomalisa wholly original, nor after three episodes do I know if the insidious hard-boiled narrative is going to come together as anything other than a whimsically warped amusement, but the blending of elements has already resulted in a series that doesn’t feel like anything else on TV.

The technique behind “Ultra City Smiths” is to manipulate the figures, which aren’t actually plastic anyway, to accommodate whatever posture the narrative requires. There’s simply too much motion among the allegedly inanimate objects. It’s ironic, perhaps, but if one ignores the principal gimmick of “Ultra City Smiths,” it might make for a more convincing and even noirish experience.

Ultra City Smiths is different, at least, but it doesn’t yet come together in a way that makes for essential viewing. It asks a lot of its audience, acting more as a challenge than an invitation.