Ah Sam, as a pastiche of the late Bruce Lee, is portrayed admirably by relative newcomer Andrew Koji. Koji obviously lacks the larger-than-life charisma of Lee, but his physical swagger and cocksure attitude cover considerable ground in conveying an action-packed narrative. For some reason or other, Cinemax has never excelled at cultivating magnetic leads - whether we’re talking about Banshee’s stoic-but-ruthless Lucas Hood, or Strike Back’s sanded-down action heroes of Stonebridge and Scott, the premium cable network has always fared better at filling out its ranks with more memorable supporting players, and Warrior is no different. Wisely, the show surrounds Koji with a colorful cast of characters that play off his quiet intensity nicely. In the show’s opening hours, Ah Sam tangles with his new boss Father Jun (Perry Yung), his eager-to-please heir Young Jun (Jason Tobin, Better Luck Tomorrow), and the mercenary fixer Wang Chao (Hoon Lee).

And while the show makes huge strides in Asian representation, especially for television and long-form storytelling, its portrayal of women is also a boon for the series, even if the titillating proclivities of Cinemax sometimes strike a jarring cognitive dissonance. On the surface, they may be stock characters of the local madame or the beleaguered wife, but the women of Warrior perhaps have the deepest arcs in the world of the show. Ah Toy (Olivia Cheng, Marco Polo), the hard-nosed madame of an escort house, moonlights as a brutal Chinatown vigilante; Mai Ling (Dianne Doan, Vikings), the seemingly demure wife of Tong boss Long Zii, displays remarkable business acumen and ruthlessness in her husband’s criminal affairs; and Penny Blake (Joanna Vanderham), the corrupt mayor’s wife, navigates the city’s racial tensions in her own narrative that puts her face-to-face with Ah Sam and the Tongs. As a byproduct of its late 19th century setting, the women of Warrior may be marginalized, but their stories and characterization are anything but.

Quite fittingly, the violent Tong conflict at the center of Warrior is the best part of the show, handedly living up to the action-heavy pedigrees of producers Jonathan Tropper and Justin Lin. Crackling with energy, its underhanded politicking and gangland sparring is sprinkled with frenzied martial arts action, and Ah Sam and Young Jun - as the Hop Wei’s most formidable hatchetmen - carry the show’s pugilist spectacle with great confidence. However, on the flip side of things, Warrior’s other focus on city politics and San Francisco’s Irish community leaves much to be desired. Whether it’s the corrupt mayor Samuel Blake’s (Christian McKay) efforts to wrangle the violent Tongs, or racist police officer Bill O’Hara’s (Kieran Bew) entanglement with both the Chinese and the Irish, it’s all very dry material that pales in comparison to its more vibrant counterpart. The white criminal element is especially undercooked, as the Irish, led by Dan Leary (Dean Jagger), are portrayed as little more than racist thugs and opportunists. There’s an interesting story to be told here with 1870s San Francisco’s rampant xenophobia and racism against the Chinese, but it’s all just a little too reductive to resonate.

Warrior is a worthy addition to the Cinemax library, especially after wrapping up its previous lineup of action-dramas. In the void left behind by the conclusions of Banshee and Strike Back, and the unceremonious cancellation of Quarry, it’s about time that a new generation took its place at the HBO-owned network. It’s especially heartening to know that Warrior is the late Bruce Lee’s vision come to life, and with its predominantly Asian cast and its strong female characters, it’s also coming at the exact right time in the cultural zeitgeist.

GRADE: B+