It is not often, in modern television, that just about everything goes right. A series featuring dynamite performances might have terrible dialogue; a weak score and poor lighting can drag down even the best editing. On rare occasions, however, when the foundation (i.e., the writing) is solid, the cinematographer, director, and editor have the wisdom to step back and let the actors drive the story. To pull this off, you need heavyweights, like Matthew Rhys and Claire Danes, who star in Netflix’s new limited series “The Beast in Me.”

The story and setting evoke “Succession” and “All Good Things.” Nile Jarvis (Rhys, the Peter O’Toole of American TV) is a billionaire real estate scion who moves to a heavily wooded neighborhood of Oyster Bay, New York, with his second wife, Nina (Brittany Snow), under a cloud of suspicion due to the disappearance of his first wife, Madison. His neighbor is author Aggie Wiggs (Danes, excellent), whose slowly collapsing house is a metaphor for the wreckage of her life: after the death of their young son in a car crash, Aggie gets divorced, leaving her alone to brood, rage, and generally disconnect from the world.

Nile and Aggie have what is called a meet-brute, two egos clashing, one’s anger and resentment on the surface (Aggie, rejecting Nile’s proposed plan for a jogging path easement in the neighborhood’s communal woods), the other’s overt conniving rooted in a ruthless charm. It’s this scene that sets the tone for the entire series: Director Antonio Campos (“The Staircase”) blocks the shot in a way that immediately sets up the power dynamics between Nina, Aggie, and Nile.

Aggie’s curiosity in Niles’ notoriety gives way to a helluva proposal: he suggests she abandon her going-nowhere-fast current project and write a book about him instead, to redefine his public image and explore who he really is. Aggie, operating under multiple motives, agrees, and chasing the truth of a possible murder rouses her from a sort of living death.

Danes has one of the most expressive faces in show business; her trembling chin, cheekbones contorted by sorrow, are just as arresting as her brow furrowed in fury, eyes widened in unseemly exhilaration. As for Rhys, he’s spent the last few years playing misanthropic but ultimately well-meaning sad sacks (“Perry Mason,” “Towards Zero”). Watching him play a man who may or may not have killed his first wife, who flirts with sociopathy but somehow also elicits empathy for his own traumatic childhood, is a thrill ride. Rhys flows between insults, physical aggression, and charisma with petrifying ease, oozing a toxic magnetism that lures you, though you know damn well he might sink his teeth in and never let go.

So, who is our Logan Roy? None other than Jonathan Banks, of course, who brings his trademark gruffness to Martin Jarvis, a billionaire unwilling to let anyone, least of all his son, tamper with his legacy. Though a Manhattan-based real estate subplot largely speaks to the series’ political cynicism (especially in light of mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani’s historic win), it does provide room for Banks and Rhys to spar, yet another delight! Whether or not Niles is guilty of murder, he is definitely an intimidating presence, but the only person who scares him is his father. Banks is one of those actors whose air is somehow unchanging yet flexible.

The supporting cast also punches its weight. Snow, who could barely make a dent in the hogwash that was “Hunting Wives,” proves her mettle as Nina, moving carefully in her marriage for reasons she’s not ready to share. Martin Jarvis’ second wife, Lila (Julia Ann Emery) has a limited role but steals every scene she’s in, sometimes without speaking a single syllable. Hettienne Park, who has long deserved larger roles since standout work in “The Outsider” and “The Last of Us,” turns in a moving and anxiety-inducing performance as FBI Agent Erika Breton.

“The Beast in Me,” from its very title, implies that everyone, under the duress of grief and its calcification into a limitless wrath, is capable of heinous acts. Danes and Rhys do a bang-up job, no doubt, of bringing two incredibly damaged people to life in very different ways. But the series could have taken more risks in blurring the lines between good and evil; after all, few of us are all good or all bad all the time.