The new HBO miniseries of Philip Roth’s 2004 alternate history novel, The Plot Against America, which premieres March 16, is nothing if not timely. After all, it tells the story of the election of a right wing, isolationist president who ran under the slogan “America First”—and how that choice has disastrous, life-changing consequences for many people across the country. 

In the Kirkus-starred novel, that president is the anti-Semitic aviator Charles Lindbergh of Spirit of St. Louis fame, who defeats Franklin D. Roosevelt in the election in 1940 and keeps the United States out of World War II. He also pursues friendly diplomatic relations with Nazi Germany and institutes policies specifically aimed at breaking up Jewish communities across the country, whom he, and his progressively violent supporters, don’t consider to be true Americans. Roth’s story terrifyingly shows how the country is slowly but inexorably turning into a fascist, totalitarian state under Lindbergh’s influence.

The general premise isn’t particularly new—in many ways, it brings to mind Sinclair Lewis’ classic 1935 novel, It Can’t Happen Here, which also depicted an America transformed into a dictatorship by a charismatic leader—but Roth tells his tale from the perspective of a single Jewish family in New Jersey. It’s a clever narrative choice that compellingly shows how state-sponsored bigotry affects people in their everyday lives. In the book, the family is explicitly Roth’s; the author himself narrates the story, recalling his childhood during the dark days of Lindbergh’s presidency. His father, mother, brother, cousin, and aunt are all key players in the narrative, as well, which makes the stakes feel very real, indeed—although one can’t help but wonder if Roth, who died in 2018, truly felt that his sibling, Sandy, would have willingly taken part in a Hitler Youth–like program, or that his aunt, Evelyn, would have actively collaborated with an anti-Semitic government.

The six-part miniseries, created and largely co-written by The Wire’s David Simon and Ed Burns, makes two key changes: The family name is now Levin, not Roth, and the narrative includes many scenes that young Philip didn’t directly witness; occasionally, the additional material enriches the story, as when it follows Philip’s cousin Alvin (played by a fine Anthony Boyle) as he joins the Canadian army to fight against the Nazis. Very late in the series, a few major characters take a truly chilling road trip from New Jersey to Kentucky—an offstage event in the book. At other times, though, the additions feel like padding, as when viewers are made to watch Evelyn (very capably portrayed by Winona Ryder) argue with her married boyfriend. The impulse to widen the scope of the novel for a high-profile miniseries is understandable, but, in practice, it makes the entire story feel much less personal, and less deeply felt.

It doesn’t help matters that the miniseries puts clunky dialogue into its characters’ mouths, such as, “Win or lose, there’s a lot of hate out there, and he [Lindbergh] knows how to tap into it,” and “This is how it happens. Everyone is afraid.” There’s also a very late attempt to add a new subplot about an underground resistance, which ends up feeling deeply unsatisfying—particularly when the Amazon Prime Video TV series The Man in the High Castle, which portrayed an America conquered by the Nazis, handled similar material much better. There are also a few aspects of the novel that don’t translate well to the screen; famed radio commentator Walter Winchell, for instance, is an important background character in the novel, but his brassy, hyperdramatic speaking style is nearly impossible to take seriously when heard out loud.

That said, the HBO miniseries is still a handsome, if overlong, production; its Newark, New Jersey, of the 1940s is entirely convincing, and many of the actors, including Zoe Kazan and Morgan Spector as Philip’s mother and father, do first-rate work. John Turturro delivers a thoughtful performance as avid Lindbergh supporter Rabbi Lionel Bengelsdorf, although his Southern accent has an unfortunate Foghorn Leghorn quality that never stops being distracting.

The miniseries does make one clear improvement on its source, however. The novel ends far too neatly and optimistically, with the American people coming to their senses and fixing their past mistakes. In today’s political climate, the filmmakers seem to say, such a happy ending is no longer a foregone conclusion.

David Rapp is the senior Indie editor.