Every corpse has a tale to tell. This one has a touch of evil.
Foreboding Coroner on the CW's Riverdale
Well, it's that time of year... midterms! The time of year when my best blogging intensions give way to evaluating exams and essays. But, I couldn't let the month go by without telling you about the Riverdale that I imagined and the Riverdale that I actually saw.
The Riverdale I imagined (based on the trailer): a moody, mystical take on the classic (wholesome/boring? traditional/sexist?) Archie comics. In this series, we get a grittier take on the ostensibly idilic small town. We also get a Twin Peaks-esque murder mystery complete with weird, supernatural plot twists. We get three main characters (Archie, Betty, Veronica) who subvert the typical love-triangle plot lines and negotiate their relationships with one another in surprising and insightful ways. It was a great show (in my mind!).
The Riverdale I saw (based on the pilot): a mild, fairly silly soap opera that includes a murder mystery and mean-girl negotiations (a la Pretty Little Liars) between Betty, Veronica and a really awful Queen Bee named Cheryl. Much less Twin Peaks. Much more 90210 (complete with Luke Perry!). Not bad. But not great either. Very vanilla. Very Betty.
"You're slowly and systematically being driven out of your mind."
Joseph Cotton as Brian Cameron in Gaslight
The term "gaslighting" has been making the rounds in American political discourse. My advice? See this classic film.
Gaslighting, which is synonymous with manipulating a person or group into thinking that they are going out of their minds, comes from a classic play Gas Light that has been adapted to film twice. The 1944 version of Gaslight, staring the incandescent Ingrid Bergman, is my favorite.
Bergman stars as Paula, a troubled young woman who witnessed her aunt being murdered as a child. As an adult, Paula is caught up in a whirlwind romance, gets married, and is now living with her new husband in relative isolation. Unfortunately for Paula, her happiness in love is short-lived. Soon, she begins seeing and hearing things... a creaky floor, a flickering gaslight. Her husband assures her that she's mistaken. Eventually Paula begins to think that she is going mad. But is she?
Gaslight explores psychological abuse in a creepy, personal way. Watch it and you can decide for yourself whether or not it is a good metaphor for the state of our body politic.
"At the least I feel that those specific coping skills were best suited to the life there, behind me. I doubt there will serve me so well for the life in front of me, so I will seriously need to reconsider my world view."
Daniel Holden in Rectify
Last week, I mentioned the glacial pace of one of my favorite shows, Rectify. Rectify, a moody, dreamy Southern Gothic drama about a man who is released from prison after serving 19 years for a rape and murder he may or may not have committed, moves at the pace of a humid Southern town in August. There is plenty of time to watch Daniel Holden struggle with life outside his cell walls and to watch his family struggle to reintegrate him into their web of relationships. And, there's ample space to enjoy sunset and fireflies and classic drawls (Clayne Crawford's Alabama roots shine in his spot-on performance as a Southern frat-guy character Ted Talbot Jr.).
There are also many opportunities to consider the nature of justice, redemption, conversion, and repentance. How does a man who will always be connected to a terrible crime find forgiveness or freedom? Daniel struggles to attain both. How does 'hope deferred' change a person? Daniel's fiercely loyal sister Amantha, who worked for her entire adult life to secure his release, struggles to find meaning in her life. For those interested in conversations about whether or not the criminal justice system should be retributive or restorative, Rectify gives viewers a meditation on what imprisonment does to a human soul. And, there is one scene - a classic tent meeting complete with gospel choir and baptisms - that captures the enthusiasm and earthiness of revivalism in the American South.
If you want a visual treat, a thoughtful discussion of justice and love, and an immersion into Southern religion, try Rectify.
There are certain things that I know I should like, but I just can't. Like sushi (not cosmopolitan enough). Or hiking (not outdoorsy enough). Or craft beer (not hipster enough). The OA falls under that category. The premise is this: a young woman, Prairie Johnson, makes a dramatic reappearance in middle America after disappearing for seven years. Her parents are anxious to welcome her back to her old life, but there's something very different about her this time around. For one thing, she used to be blind but now can see. For another, Prairie insists that she be called The OA. Mystery surrounds this woman and soon she attracts a ragtag group of followers who are fascinated by her storytelling abilities.
I could go on, but I'll just stop there. You know, dear readers, that I am a fan of this genre. But in order for a high concept show like this one to work, a viewer needs to be able to buy into that concept (or even just understand what it is) by the time the first episode concludes. The OA doesn't provide any such narrative structure. Without a story core to hold it together, we at least need some snappy dialogue or chemistry between characters to stay with it. But, the pacing of The OA is slow. Glacial. And, I can handle slowly paced television (Rectify is one of my favorites!).
It's really a shame because The OA plays with a lot of themes that historians of religion appreciate. The idea that a story can change the world, change history, and change the hearer in a fundamental way has rich potential. And, The OA herself - a fragile woman with mystical powers and reluctant but mesmerized followers - almost makes me want to watch a season 2. Am I missing some way to frame The OA that will help me recognize its greatness? You tell me.
"We, the last and broken remnants, vow to undo the errors of our ascendants, to make the earth whole, the lost - unlost, at peril of our own birth"
Time Traveler's version of a Hippocratic Oath in Travelers
It's a classic dystopian sci-fi premise: humans in the future ruined the earth and it's up to an intrepid time traveler(s) to set the world right years before it goes wrong. In Travelers, they do it by using tech from the future to digitally override the brains of people in the 21st century who are about to die. But is it moral to override someone who is about to die, but is not quite dead yet? And when do you know that you've saved the world? What if saving the world means losing your very existence? The characters in Travelers wrestle with these questions as they work to redeem the world, one mission from the future at a time.
Travelers is theoretically right up my alley, but I'll admit that I was slow to appreciate the show's charms. Its stars are a bit too inexplicably attractive (which for some reason works for me on CW shows but doesn't work elsewhere); it stars Eric McCormack, who is a good actor, but I will always see him as Will from Will and Grace; it's also pretty humorless... I can handle bleak (in fact, some of my favorite shows are uber-depressing... ahem, Battlestar Galactica), but bleak is only bearable with a few laughs every now and then.
The final episodes pick up the pace, however, and they start asking some better-than-run-of-the-mill sci-fi questions. Such as, where and what is God in this future world? Does fixing the future eliminate free will? How do we know we can trust the powers that be in the future? And what would it take for the future people to become so attached to the present that they forget their vow to undo the errors of their ascendants? In the end, I found that the quality of Travelers increased along the way. And the questions they asked made the binge-investment worthwhile.