tv shows

Lunchtable TV Talk: The Code – You are only coming through in waves

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Watching TV and films is often like riding a wave. One show or film appears, and you are carried along to the next, even if by seemingly random choice, and somehow there are always connections. Many connections between the shows, many connections to other things I have watched, whether its the appearance of various actors popping up or thematic links.

The other night in sleeplessness, I stumbled on the six-part Australian TV show The Code… I’m hit immediately by recognizable visual cues. First, the appearance of Aden Young. This is the only other place I have seen Aden Young, apart from his leading role in the underwatched Rectify. I have often wondered how he acts in other things. As the startlingly weird Daniel Holden, it is hard to imagine him in any other way. I keep expecting his actual Australian accent to come out slower and more southern, like Holden’s unmistakably deliberate drawl.

Next, I stared and stared at the actor who plays the mentally unstable hacker brother, certain that I know him from somewhere. He very vaguely reminded me of the dude who was George in Grey’s Anatomy but I KNEW it was not him. But then it hit me – Manhattan! Yes, Manhattan, which will be back soon for its second season (which ties in like a gentle wave with my recent viewing of the Norwegian production, Kampen om tungtvannet, or The Saboteurs – both deal with the race toward building a nuclear bomb).

Figures that I would accidentally select something Australian immediately after seeing the Australian film Tracks, starring Mia Wasikowska. It made me think of things I had not considered in years, such as reading one of Bruce Chatwin’s final books, The Songlines, during university. Without knowing of his appearance beforehand, there in the Australian Outback as an American National Geographic photographer is Adam Driver, from Girls.

And just the night before, I had seen Driver in While We’re Young, which is the latest output from Noah Baumbach. Fine-tuned Baumbach is great. Some of his stuff can be pretentious – not bad, per se, but makes you wonder what for. Nothing quite so true in that department than his widely praised The Squid and The Whale, which I had not thought of in years. I liked it but it’s definitely a “type” of movie. But I mention it now more because of this continuing wave of connection. The film was mentioned in Thursday’s episode of Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll, when Denis Leary’s character confuses the story of Jonah and the whale with The Squid and The Whale, which is exactly the kind of thing he’d take the piss out of (and does).

In many ways, The Code was a microcosm of the point I am trying to make – lots of disconnected threads eventually cross. The story in The Code is actually three separate threads of the same story. They cross but do not quite interweave until all the threads come together. This is a lot like what television (and film) are like – a small world full of people who inhabit many imaginary worlds. We the viewers piece them all together each time.

Lunchtable TV Talk: Israeli TV – Beyond Homeland

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Homeland is probably the only well-known reimagining of an original Israeli TV program. Americans (or anyone, really) grabbing onto an existing show – and either bastardizing it (which in television is more like stealing a scene-for-scene replay without adaptation or creativity or even cultural consideration) or redirecting it not for the better but maybe for greater perspective on a similar theme – is nothing new. The UK and US bat their respective shows across the Atlantic to make and remake like so many shuttlecocks, but adaptations from further afield are beginning to inspire. That said, just because you can watch a remake does not mean you should avoid the original. In fact, the original is usually better. The original UK version of The Office lasted only two glorious seasons. When the US made its own version, it started off slowly and tried to make a scene-by-scene copy of the original. Only when the US started to use the concept but not the play-by-play sameness did the US version of The Office find its voice – and become its own show. Both are good shows.

Don’t get me wrong. I am a fan of (most of) Homeland. It is loosely based on Israeli program Hatufim (Prisoners of War), which is considerably more complex than Homeland. I am a bigger fan of Hatufim, even if it suffers from very different production values. It feels like a human story, much more than the edgy thriller Homeland aspires to be.

But Israeli TV has also offered up some adapted gems, such as the little-watched and often frustrating (in a good way) In Treatment. In it, Gabriel Byrne played a therapist and patient. Each night of the week, he would see a patient and on the last night of the week, he would see his own therapist (Dianne Wiest). The Israeli original was called B’tipul and introduced the concept of showing one episode nightly – each one representing one patient’s appointment, i.e. each Monday was the same patient, etc. It only lasted for two seasons, but it was engaging in a way that most shows are not. You would not imagine that a show in which two people sit, talk and engage in what are fairly realistic therapy sessions would draw you in. But somehow they did. Maybe not enough, though, because the show did not last.

Taking inspiration from an Israeli source does not always work – most likely when major American networks get their claws into the idea. The recent attempt to adapt Israeli program, The Gordin Cell, into a spy thriller, Allegiance, did not work at all. In this case, it seems it was less about trying to create a quality show and more about trying to capitalize on the critical praise heaped on The Americans. I assume NBC thought they could jump on the “Russian spy story” bandwagon, but it’s not as simple as that. Just as Mad Men’s popularity and critical acclaim did not transfer automatically to other 1960s period dramas with thin plots, like Pan Am and The Playboy Club, among others. Further evidence that major networks are usually followers, not leaders. Sometimes that works; usually it doesn’t.

Lunchtable TV Talk: AMC outliers – Low Winter Sun and Rubicon

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What do you do when you’re a network like AMC, which has commanded cultural giants of creative, prestige programming like Mad Men, Breaking Bad, The Walking Dead, and smaller-scale but still edgy or unusual stuff like Halt and Catch Fire, Hell on Wheels and Humans, when you have clear outliers on your hands? You are not going to have a hit that viewers lap up, à la The Walking Dead, or a critical darling, à la Mad Men, every time. You can hope for quiet wins now and again, or the slow build of an audience that lets you tell a complete story. But sometimes, you strike out. AMC, despite its clout – or perhaps because of the weight of expectation – cannot hit it out of the park every time. Or even get a base hit.

This was true of both the mediocre Low Winter Sun and the challenging but worthwhile Rubicon.

Netflix can enable addicts like me. I am addicted to watching series, and even though I had read all the bad reviews of Low Winter Sun and its plodding pace, I watched it anyway. I needed to work on something through the night, and I thought, “Why not?” After all, I wanted to see if it was as bad as I’d read/heard and also wanted something that could serve as English-language background noise without forcing any concentration from me.

Like another one-season-and-gone AMC program, Rubicon, it never found its place or time. The only difference is that Low Winter Sun was a remake of a UK miniseries; Rubicon was an original in every sense of the word “original”. Come on, recounting the premise even now (a story about government data system analysts) won’t start any fires, right?

I don’t sit around and actively miss or think about Rubicon but believe it was a show with a story to tell. Low Winter Sun, though, was just awkward. Nice to see some actors who turn up in other AMC stuff, like Breaking Bad’s David Costabile (he was the ill-fated Gale Boetticher) and The Walking Dead’s Lennie James (he’s Morgan, who has just reappeared in the last season of Dead…). I almost wanted to like Low Winter Sun just because I want to attribute some kind of trust to the AMC pedigree or wanted to be some sort of rebel and like something no one else liked, but the dialogue really hurt. It was not bad acting, not a terrible story … but somehow the pieces did not all come together and nothing people said felt very natural. And that’s where it suffered. Mad Men did not always have the more natural dialogue either, but it had other legs to stand on, bigger themes to dig into, deeper stylistics to display. Low Winter Sun had nothing else going for it, and delivered exactly what you’d expect accordingly.

Lunchtable TV Talk: The Walking Dead

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I never wanted to watch The Walking Dead – a “zombie show” hardly sounded on the surface like my thing. The Walking Dead has been talked and written about to such an extent that there is no reason on earth that I need to write more. I never imagined I would be someone who became addicted to the show, but I succumbed.

I got hooked like everyone else, but I suppose the real draw, apart from the idea of how people move forward after something catastrophic (whatever it is), is how individuals change and break out of the roles they play in life, continuing to evolve and toughen. Extraordinary circumstances bring out the extraordinary in people. This is the clearest “lesson” of The Walking Dead… all of the characters change to adapt to the new hardships, but some people become all new people in what is essentially an all new world. This is truest of Carol. It is probably also true of Michonne, the woman with the sword. We meet her when she is a fierce warrior, silent, all walls up and defensive. She becomes a caretaker for Andrea but our view into her past and the more sensitive woman she had been only comes into view later. In the latest season, we see her soften and move further in that direction. Everyone in The Walking Dead goes on a journey that changes them. It is inevitable.

But Carol… she has evolved completely throughout the course of the show. In the beginning, her meek and weak demeanor, and beaten-down, helpless woman persona drove me nuts. Every week I wished the zombies would get their hands on her. In a field full of other characters it seemed like Carol was just dead weight… an abused woman who embodies the worst traits of the abused woman. Not that you blame an abused person for “following the script” – and in that, Melissa McBride was outstanding. You pity her but hate her at the same time because, in light of the changed world, she seemed weaker, more helpless and more pathetic than ever. How can you whine and seem THAT petty when nothing around you is about you or your individual life any longer? Carol was still under her husband’s thumb when things started, and even once he was gone, she was still bound by the fear instilled in her through all the years of abuse. She also loses her daughter, and this is probably the last straw that turns Carol into the force she comes to be reckoned with. She ends up being one of the toughest, most ruthless, most calculating, most logical parts of the group – her earlier weakness filtered into a resilience that surpasses everyone else’s in the entire group. You end up respecting Carol more deeply than almost anyone else – in large part because of the journey she has taken, the growth she’s displayed (while letting go of some of the humanity that made her as sensitive as she once was).

Carol really came into her own in the most recent season of The Walking Dead, hiding in plain sight by “impersonating” her former self. Carol, as independent and tough as she has become, is fiercely protective and even maternal in her drive to take care of her own. Seeing her personal journey, along with the journeys of other cast favorites (such as Daryl), has been one of the most rewarding parts of sticking with the show.

Lunchtable TV Talk: King & Maxwell – Chasing the beaver

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The first episode of the defunct show, King & Maxwell, started with a car chase. If I recall, Rebecca Romijn‘s character was chasing someone dressed in a beaver costume. The silly opener was followed by what was singularly one of the most boring hours of television I’ve ever seen. Note to all: just starting something off with a car chase is still not enough to make people want to continue watching.

Perhaps its boredom-inducing spell became a kind of aphrodisiac, sending viewers subliminal messages screaming silently, “There is nothing else to do but turn to sex! Save yourself the misery of continuing to watch!” Yes, randy gents the world over, if you want to get your girl in bed – indulge in this inaugural boring episode of King & Maxwell, one of TV’s least interesting offerings. She will not be able to resist.

Me being the glutton for visual and virtual punishment that I am, though, I gave the show another go. Yes, I put myself through that. Oddly enough, though the first episode started up slowly, the next episodes were a lot more entertaining. The playful repartee between the two titular leads, King and Maxwell, played respectively by Jon Tenney and Rebecca Romijn, leads the show, and perhaps if it had been given a bit more opportunity to get off the ground, it might have gained an audience. I don’t know. It was a fairly standard PI procedural, so nothing groundbreaking. Plenty of deserving shows never make it past a first season. I question all the time, for example, how something vanilla-average, like the Debra Messing vehicle, The Mysteries of Laura, gets renewed for a second season, while something with a lot more personality and promise, like Battle Creek, gets the shaft. You tell me.

It was a bit harder to discern, but I think King & Maxwell may have had some promise. The aforementioned sarcastic spark between Tenney and Romijn and the unusual character played by Ryan Hurst (also seen in unique roles in Sons of Anarchy and Bates Motel) sometimes transcended the limitations of the show’s decidedly limited walls.

Lunchtable TV Talk: Outlander – Tha mo chas air ceann mo naimhdean

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A time-travel-based romance novel on TV is not really my thing. The time period in which Outlander takes place (1743) is equally uninteresting. I have an interest in the American Revolutionary War period, which is just a few years later and on another continent, and the slightly later French Revolution, which rounded out the 1700s. But the 1700s are otherwise not my time.

Outlander is no exception. Regardless of my love for Scotland and listening to the crazy accents there, Outlander gives me no pleasure. Each episode seems to drag on for an eternity, and its heroine is either a bad actress or has mediocre material to work with – or both. In fact the duo leading the cast, Irish actress Caitriona Balfe and Scottish actor Sam Heughan, is dismal. The acting here is a lot of overwrought facial expressions – really laying it on thick – and a lot of silences or very slow responses to build drama. I am sure some of this is the bread and butter of the genre, but some of it is just that neither of these two can act (although I am sure casting required a lot of finding two people who could perform nearly softcore porn on a weekly basis and look appealing doing it, in which case these two fit the bill). (Tobias Menzies is probably the best actor of the bunch in his dual role, but one of his characters is such a subhuman monster that his performance is painful to watch.) The mix of language/accent, the scenery and people’s willingness to get lost in the Scottish history, the romance, the time travel or some combination of all of it means that the acting doesn’t have to pass muster.

I slept through a few episodes but was awakened by some loud, gratuitous sex scenes – and I suppose that is one of the things that draws a fairly… ardent audience. Also, everyone loves the underdog – and is there a greater underdog (albeit a long, hard loss) story than that of Scotland versus England? (It plays out on the political stage to this day!)

What improbably caused me to continue watching is my fascination not just with unsubtitled TV (there’s plenty of unsubtitled Scottish Gaelic here, which may be the show’s best part) but also small and/or endangered languages. The show has apparently ignited an interest in the Scottish Gaelic language. Not by any means an easy or particularly accessible language to learn, I am heartened by movements and tools that encourage the learning and use of the world’s most unusual languages. If Outlander manages to create Gaelic-language awareness, well, then, more power to it.

Lunchtable TV Talk: The Brink

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Eager to find out how The Brink, a satirical comedy focused on a geopolitical crisis that ignites in Pakistan, ends, I keep watching. It’s a relatively funny journey – not too taxing or challenging given the political story (which can bog down shows attempting to be “light”, as this one aims to be). What sets this show apart is its stellar ensemble cast. Just when I get pulled into the scenes with the incorrigible, frenetic Jack Black and his driver, played by the multitalented Aasif Mandvi, the shift focuses to the sex-obsessed, liberal but never-taking-his-eye-off-the-ball US Secretary of State, played to perfection by Tim Robbins. But the show also has somewhat smaller but still standout roles for Pablo Schreiber, Carla Gugino (who also turned in a good performance recently in Wayward Pines) and John Larroquette.

On an entirely unrelated note, Larroquette’s presence sent me off on a nostalgic mental parade of past television, including Larroquette on the 80s sitcom classic, Night Court, of which he was the best part. But Night Court also included Harry Anderson, a most non-descript guy who nevertheless carved out a niche for himself as a magic aficionado and as a night-court judge, as a frequent guest star in Cheers and in the 80s/90s sitcom Dave’s World, based on the life of comedy writer, Dave Barry. And my twisted obituary-laced brain immediately recalls that Dave’s World’s Meshach Taylor (also famous for his turn as Anthony the ex-con in Designing Women) is dead – too young. Going back to Night Court, once again, whatever happened to Markie Post, the female lead in the show? Back in the 1990s she was in a little-watched but nevertheless entertaining Hearts Afire with the late John Ritter. (Of course my brain would lead me here – always the grim reaper.) Hearts Afire ended up being about a married couple working on a hometown newspaper in the south, but it started off being thematically not too different from Alpha House and The Brink – without the farce, of course. Incidentally, Hearts Afire also starred Billy Bob Thornton. But people were not quite ready for Billy Bob yet.

In some ways, ensemble shows like The Brink, as topical and sharp as they are, end up making me more interested in making connections – playing some kind of six-degrees-of-Kevin Bacon connect-the-dots. Obviously. Nothing about the unfolding crisis and underhanded political rivalries playing out in high-stakes, behind-the-scenes conflicts should lead someone to forgotten two-season sitcoms like Hearts Afire. But for a TV-crazed lunatic like me, they do.

Lunchtable TV Talk: Key & Peele

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I read that Key & Peele ends at the end of the current season. It’s sad but it goes out on a high. Will miss it and the instantly recognizable Reggie Watts sound of the theme music.

Where else will we see an over-the-top skit where two dudes go nuts praising “Liam Neesons” and follow-up in their onstage repartee with, “Why do we love Liam Neeson so much?” “I’ll tell you what… Ethan Frome – that’s my jam right there!” HAHA. Does anyone even remember that film version of the book?

Until overdosing on the most recent season I had completely forgotten that Key and Peele were in the first season of TV’s Fargo.

At least there’s a new season of Fargo coming up.

Lunchtable TV Talk: Alpha House – “One nightmare at a time, girl”

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I have not seen Haley Joel Osment since The Sixth Sense or possibly some tabloid “reporting” on his drunk driving or something similar. Oh the nightmares of being a child star (see “cast of Diff’rent Strokes” for the ultimate case study in child-stars gone awry). Suddenly, though, I started watching Alpha House during a brief Amazon Prime freebie month, and there he was. And noticed that he’s also in the IFC productions, The Spoils of Babylon and The Spoils Before Dying. Tons of great, funny and interesting people in The Spoils, so Osment is not exactly key. But I noticed him most because of his long absence from the public eye – and then his sudden reappearance in a bunch of stuff – referred to as an unusual “second act”. Osment has made no difference to Alpha House, but I had to note the presence.

I plowed through the first season of Alpha House – it did not start out particularly well. I may have had higher expectations because the show was created by Garry Trudeau. Alpha House focuses on a handful of Republican politicians sharing a house in DC together – it’s meant to be a comedy but until the middle of the season, it does not pick up speed. But eventually there are laughs and insights here and there – most of the characters, even though they align closely with stereotypical caricatures of politicians (egomaniacal sex addicts; uber-conservative closet cases; lazy lifelong politicians who have lost their way, etc.), come out as relatively likeable, human people.

John Goodman is more compelling in every single other role he’s played but then he only seems to come to life near the end of the first season – and this may be by design. His character is a complacent senator who rediscovers his values only once his seat is truly challenged. Mark Consuelos… well, does anyone think of him as anything more than Kelly Ripa’s husband and secondarily – maybe – as an actor on whatever soap opera he met Kelly on when they were both in the show? Actually he is better than that, but because he is possibly the biggest stereotype in the bunch it is easy to pigeonhole him as the Hispanic politician relying on his “roots” even though he does not understand a word of Spanish and as the player/sex addict who may destroy his career with these common pitfalls. Clark Johnson plays another of the politicians sharing the house, and he is pleasant and funny – but there is not much to say about him. (I have not seen much of Johnson since his days in Homicide: Life on the Street. Happy to see him, though – love him!)

Only Matt Malloy is immediately and consistently watchable as a very homophobic Republican senator who wins an “anti-sodomy” award for opposing gay marriage when it is suggested at every turn that he is deeply closeted himself. While the “closeted political operative story” was somewhat more highly charged with Cyrus Beene in Scandal during the flashback scenes depicting his coming out, Malloy’s character trajectory is much slower, certainly less exigent. Maybe that storyline is not gripping – almost nothing about the show is – but it grew on me. Malloy has always been one of those everywhere-everyman actors who plays small roles all over the place although I mostly think of him as the milquetoast “Howard” from the brutal film In the Company of Men. Seeing Malloy in a leading but ensemble role is refreshing – and even greater – Amy Sedaris as his rigidly Mormon, wholesome wife. Too much!

By episode five, the only thing that really piqued my interest was the appearance of musician Charles Bradley (as himself). But by episode seven – the prayer brunch episode, which includes the very funny Wanda Sykes (she’s in several episodes) – the show hits its stride, and I finished season two the very next day. (Who turns up, in fact, in the final episode but Josh Pais, the everywhere-everyman actor I wrote about just the other day?)

With no word yet on season three, I am surprised to find myself – after a very slow beginning – hoping it will return.

Lunchtable TV Talk: Sense8 – “This is the real fucking world – nothing’s fair”

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After the first episode of Netflix’s Sense8, I was disappointed and did not even want to continue watching. I am not alone in this sentiment. The show is uneven in its pace and not every thread makes sense (maybe it does not have to – that might not be the point). The cited Hitfix article praises the show as being ambitious and sometimes great despite its weaknesses, and as I made my way through the show, I felt the same way. There were many touching moments, many hilarious moments, and many concepts that struggled against the ordinary to find greatness.

I won’t get into the premise of the show – it’s scifi, it’s about strangers in different parts of the world suddenly experiencing a mind-body connection that enables them to see, hear, feel each other. If that vague idea sounds interesting, watch it to find out for yourself if it means anything to you.

Hitfix also pointed out that many of the supporting characters contributed more entertainment value and depth than supporting characters generally do. This is particularly true, just as the article says, of Freema Agyeman’s tough, clever Amanita. (She’s better known for her role as Martha Jones in Doctor Who – and for me, who has oddly never seen any of the storied Doctor Who franchise, Law & Order UK, as prosecutor Alesha Phillips.)

The same cannot be said always for the stories of some of the main characters. I found myself most irritated by the story of “Riley” – the supposedly Icelandic character. Her character cites some vaguely “Icelandic” things – half the stuff she says comes back to sentences that begin with, “In Iceland…” – but most of it is the kind of drivel spouted in tourist handbooks. At least the people Riley encounters when she returns to Iceland from her home in London are actual Icelandic people – including her father, portrayed by an Icelandic folk and blues singer, KK.

It might be that much of this show feels inauthentic in that all the characters around the world speak English. There are moments when the characters’ lives collide, and only in those moments, the characters speak in their own native languages (the Korean girl speaks Korean, the German guy speaks German, etc.), but almost immediately “adapt” to understand each other but the entire show is in this lingua franca of English. Given how much of television is now being presented in languages other than English, it feels lazy and assumes laziness to make Sense8 this way when it is otherwise, progressive and full of diverse identities. Does using English help more people in a broad audience connect to a broader spectrum of diverse characters? Does it break down barriers rather than create one in the form of language? Possibly. This show does not always hit the mark, but its sights were set high enough that adding the layer of language might have just been too complex for an already complicated story. That said, though, I feel that “original” language has added so much to other shows that I wonder what might have been added (or taken away) here. (I have already written about original language use on TV, the new subtitling revolution – and I don’t love fake accents in place of the actual language – again, the “Icelandic” girl who is actually a Brit using a put-on Icelandic accent instead of just using Icelandic with subtitles….) Lovely scenery of Iceland, though.

The show is best when it reveals its many small moments of insight – even if they are not “deep” or hidden insight – moments of clarity that reflect on the duality and universality of the main characters’ lives overlapping. One small example – in episode 9 when Lito, the Mexican soap star, states while drowning his sorrows in a bar, “I was living in two separate worlds”. He could just as well be referring to his status as a Sensate, colliding into multiple worlds although he might be talking about his public life as a famous actor and his private life as a closeted gay man and the struggles and losses that has caused for him. “A secret self”, as Lito discusses with the bartender before it degenerates into self-hating homophobia.

Ultimately the unanswered questions, the potential and the little insights may provide a path for a second season. Fingers crossed.