THE MORTICIAN Review: Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust. But Whose Ashes?

Death is a serious business, but it is a business.

The Mortician
The first episode debuts Sunday, June 1, exclusively on HBO and Max. Subsequent episodes will debut every Sunday evening. I've seen all three episodes.

Full disclosure: I've driven around for years with my dead parents in the trunk of my car.

In accordance with their wishes, both were cremated, their ashes deposited into small cardboard boxes that were entrusted to my possession. To my mind, and to many, many other people, and to the law in most municipalities and states and territories and countries, that's how it should be: people decide if they want to be buried or cremated and then trust that their loved ones or relatives or legal representatives carry out their wishes.

Certainly, this is what happens in countless movies and television shows, including many, many that we've covered on this site, where death is a common occurrence. (See, for example, Rian Johnson's Poker Face Season 2, Episode 2, in which Charlie (Natasha Lyonne) investigates the disappearance of a friend at a funeral home run by Giancarlo Esposito. It's very good.) I've seen most of what we cover here, which means I've seen thousands of dead bodies on screen.

Yet I've never seen anything quite like the true story that unfolds in The Mortician.

Directed by Joshua Rofé, an experienced documentary filmmaker, The Mortician begins with David Sconce's release from prison and then it shows how he got there, and why. Sconce encourages his unseen interviewer to ask him anything he wants and promises to answer every question.

The story begins in 1929, when the Lamb Funeral Home was founded in Pasadena, California, some 15 miles north of downtown Los Angeles. Owned and run by Laurence Lamb, the Lamb Funeral Home soon became a highly-respected and very successful family business, which the senior Mr. Lamb handed down to his descendants. By the time that his granddaughter ran things, it's safe to say that the family business was beloved. The granddaughter was known as a kindly person who warmly comforted new and past clients.

The granddaughter's son, David Sconce, had aspirations to become a professional athlete before an injury cut those dreams short. Casting about for a direction in life, he followed his mother's advice to get educated and become an official mortician. Soon, David found himself with the Pasadena Crematorium, a separate building on the family's property.

As a pragmatic sort who had grown up with death as his family's business, David Sconce attached little to no sentiment to the dead bodies that arrived in the crematorium. They were just bodies, devoid of any life. So his mind turned to maximizing profits in the crematorium.

Up to this point, I found the first episode to be fascinating, especially for those who tend to be obsessed with death. It's well-made, and features artfully constructed recreations, which fit seamlessly along with the talking-head interviews and archival photographs and footage.

As inherently interesting and compelling as those opening segments are, I must confess: I couldn't see how filmmaker Joshua Rofé could possibly justify three entire, hour-long episodes. Until, that is, I kept watching. And then it all falls into place, and I couldn't wait to see more.

Note: I'm not sure that any documentary series, especially one that revolves around incidents from the 1980s that could be researched quite easily via the internet, justifies a spoiler warning. But I will pause here, simply to say: don't look it up until after you've seen it.

Instead, allow Joshua Rofé, and former mortician David Sconce, and his ex-wife, and morticians and mortuary owners and journalists and law enforcement personnel and judges and a number of victims of a terrible scandal that scarred thousands of people over a period of years, to tell their story. No matter your personal feelings and beliefs about what happens after we die, The Mortician will touch you and provoke a visceral reaction.

Because death awaits us all. And, please, respect my body after I'm gone.