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@daviewonder
In the broadest sense, the Trump supporter might be best understood as a guy who wakes up one day in a lively, crowded house full of people, from a dream in which he was the only one living there, and then mistakes the dream for the past: a better time, manageable and orderly, during which privilege and respect came to him naturally, and he had the whole place to himself.
George Saunders, “Trump Days: Up Close with the Candidate and His Crowds,” The New Yorker, July 2016.
[T]here is much more happiness to be found in the world than dim eyes can see, if one calculates correctly and does not forget all those moments of ease which are so plentiful in every day of every human life, even the most oppressed.
Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human
Blog #8 - ANOTHER BINGE GUIDE: PREACHER premieres on AMC! PLUS Archer, The Characters, Horace and Pete, The Returned Season 2, Portlandia, and Better Call Saul
PREACHER, AMC, Season 1 Premiere May 22, 2016
In my previous blog about Season 2 of Netflix’s Daredevil, (http://daviewonder.tumblr.com/post/141746038317/blog-7-netflix-original-daredevil-season-2-aka), I happened to mention the work of a cult comic book, writer Garth Ennis and artist Steve Dillion, creators of my personal favorite version of Marvel’s The Punisher. They also did a great run of Hellblazer, (originally created by Alan Moore), featuring surly occultist John Constantine. But the very first time I ever heard of Ennis and Dillon was in the late 1990s, when a friend loaned me a copy of the debut issue of a twisted, darkly hilarious little DC comic book series called Preacher. I subsequently followed the title and its namesake hero Jesse Custer with cultish devotion until the final issue in 2000.
Thus, when I recently heard rumors of there possibly being a live action, television version of Preacher, I was very hopeful but skeptical. After all, this was a fantastical, violent, and oftentimes crude road story featuring a conflicted preacher with a power equal to both God and the Devil’s, a pistol packing mama, an Irish vampire, and more secret societies, racists, cults, ghouls, freaks, and demons to gag a goat. In other words, too dirty, disturbing, yet fun for its own good. To be sure, the world of television wouldn’t have known what to do with this classic comic fifteen years ago.
But that was then. And lucky for us, there are dudes making moves in Hollywood who loved the comic as much as me – namely, writers/producers Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg (Superbad, Pineapple Express, This is the End, etc) and writer Sam Caitlin (of the almighty Breaking Bad). The three are executive producers of the Preacher TV series, which will premiere on AMC – drum roll – May 22, 2016! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UNgI2sRzr8I)
A glance at the promo pics and trailers reveals one clear distinction between the comic and the show: appearance. Notably, the TV version of Jesse Custer, played by Dominic Cooper – (yet another British guy who can do a crazy, pseudo-Texan accent) - has a goatee and short cropped hair. Another striking (and original) contrast is the casting of Custer’s love interest/road dawg Tulip O’Hare, a blond bombshell in the comic. On the show she is played by Ruth Negga, (Jimi: All is By My Side), and Ethiopian born actress.
Evidently, these visual distinctions are a synecdoche of the show as a whole. In a recent interview for Collider.com, (http://collider.com/preacher-amc-sam-catlin-interview/), Sam Caitlin explains that, though the show will be extremely respectful of the source material, it will not be a slave to it, much less a panel-for-panel recreation. One of the most marked differences is the fact that, on the show, Jesse will struggle to continue as an actual preacher, to advise and lead others. In the comic, Jesse’s quits the church at the outset; his status as a preacher is purely nominal, expressed by wardrobe alone, and he goes on a search for God in order to kick his ass. Nevertheless, Caitlin assures Preacher fans that the show will not be “Preacher-lite.”
Word has it from reviewers who got a sneak peek of the pilot episode that the show is quite good. And though it mostly stars lesser known actors, there are a few familiar faces, such as professional creepazoid Jackie Earle Haley, the Bad News Bears alum who did an excellent job playing Rorschach in The Watchmen. He plays a racist, psycho pervert who runs a secret “meat factory” named Odin Quincannon.
When asked if my favorite character, the Saint of Killers, would appear on the show, Caitlin refused to answer. You know what that means… Yes!
Oh – and speaking of Garth Ennis, Seth Rogen, and Evan Goldberg, they are also producing a live action version of The Boys, a more recent and also fantastic Ennis series, for Cinemax! Be still my heart. “The Boys” – (actually, there’s one girl) – are five members of a Special Forces team that investigate caped super heroes (“supes”), ostensible pillars of the community that are actually incompetent and corrupt nincompoops. My favorite cover for this comic is pictured above, obviously modeled after the cover of recent Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductees N.W.A’s Straight Outta Compton. (Also, notice that one character is based on Simon Pegg).
ARCHER, Season 7 (Episodes 1 and 2 so far)
If Bob’s Burgers isn’t enough H. John Benjamin for you, don’t worry. Archer is back for a seventh season Thursdays at 10 pm on FX. And - despite having the exact same voice as Bob Belcher - alcoholic, sex-addicted, spoiled brat super spy Sterling Archer has little in common with the family man fry cook. I have a special place in my heart for this bawdy, decadent, trigger-happy, one-liner fest, as it was a favorite of a friend of mine who recently passed away. We used to laugh at the sick jokes the show gets away with. If it were a film from the 1980s, it would be rated R. Yet for some reason 21st TV allows this stuff and we couldn’t be happier.
Moreover, as raunchy and twisted as Archer can be, it is oddly educational. This is especially true for Sterling, who not only possesses an esoteric knowledge of Burt Reynolds’ filmography, but also rattles off particularly high brow quips. For example, did you know that a female chauffer is called a chauffeuse? I learned that from Episode 2. Stuff like that might be why the show has never been super popular compared to other late night cartoons: while viewers can often forgive and even enjoy political incorrectness, they seldom appreciate having to consult a dictionary in order to get a joke.
But I wouldn’t recommend skipping this one. It’s funnier than ever, features great female voice actors such as Aisha Tyler, Judy Greer, Jessica Walter, and Amber Nash, and the quality of animation during the action sequences continues to advance.
Hidden Gem Award: THE CHARACTERS, a Netflix Original
Like many of you, I frequently scour my Netflix for stuff to veg out on, and it’s often a mixed bag. Plus, there are a lot of high profile Netflix Originals these days like House of Cards and Daredevil, as well as not so well known gems like Bloodline. So like me you probably scrolled across The Characters but said “nah” because you didn’t know what it was. But when I finally relented and did check it out, I was highly amused and even fascinated by this little eight episode series, going so far as to watch my favorites twice. I hope they make more.
What we have here is essentially a mostly successful experiment that answers the question: what would happen if a relatively unknown director (Andrew Gaynord) asked eight relatively unknown comedians to write and star in their own 30 minute special? Each episode begins with the same piano theme, a POV camera meandering its way through the backstage halls of a performance theatre. The camera finds the interior of a dressing room and then…
From this common starting point the respective writer/performers unfold their unique worlds, each one astonishingly detailed and specific in tone, conceit, and style. For those of you who are curious but still skeptical, I have taken the liberty of grading each episode:
E1: “Lauren Lapkus” B
Bravely going first, Lauren Lapkus, (Orange is the New Black, Jurassic World), has a classic SNL/Mad TV style. Her episode is mostly based on a Bachelorette type reality TV parody, with her playing the obnoxious pop star Whitney Peeps, complete with ass implants. She also does really good drag, pulling off one of the most convincing portrayals of a teenage boy that I have ever seen a woman attempt. The writing is just kind of so-so here and there, but overall this is a good first episode to dip your toe into.
E2: “John Early” A
This is one that I watched a couple of times. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. The fact that Early, (Wet Hot American Summer: First Day of Camp) wrote this is quite interesting, because it’s really subtle and nuanced in sendup of insecurities, insufferability, and psychological tics. But the really impressive element is his acting. The guy inhabits his characters like DeNiro inhabits Travis Bickle. My favorite one of his is the southern Christian female standup comic, with the catch phrase: “I’m looking for my denim!” Episode 2 is a favorite for sure. Early should be in the movies, and word has it that he will star in the next Michael Showalter project.
E3: “Henry Zebrowski” C-
I mostly didn’t get it. Gross just for the sake of being gross, and possibly racist. It gets an average minus because there were two funny bits. In the first, a couple at a food truck mistake Zebrowski for Jim Gaffigan. In the other, he runs into a café completely naked and delivers a crazy soliloquy to a waiting female about why he is late. (Zebrowski is not only grossly out of shape, but also hairy as an orangutan). Other than that? I’m no prude when it comes to low brow fare, but a ten year old boy would yawn at some of this stuff.
E4: “Kate Berlant” A-
Berlant, (who appears in Early’s episode and vice versa), goes the mockumentary narrative route here, rather than a variety of skits. Mockumentaries are typically employed to lambast a culture, and the bubble under fire here is that of the modern art world. Not exactly an original concept, true, but Berlant spices it up by playing several characters in one story: supposedly renowned artist and possible sellout Denise St. Roy, her husband and self-appointed girls softball coach Brian, fawning disciple gallery owner Rachel, rival artist and (probably faking it) disabled mute Loud Bradley, and a grating Youtube sensation who says stuff like “awesome sauce.” Episode 4 is another one that I watched twice, just to appreciate the satirical detail. Christopher Guest, eat your heart out.
E5: “Natasha Rothwell” A+
Out of all eight episodes, this one reigns supreme. We’re talking about something just as good if not better than Key & Peele, Chappelle Show, or Portlandia. Rothwell is very effective with the acting and character accents, but her real skill is killer writing. This makes sense, as she writes for Saturday Night Live and is part of Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre. In fact, she has one skit that is the most brilliant of all the episodes: a homeless man who spends his days at the public library and has therefore read all of the Game of Thrones books compels subway commuters to give him (Rothwell in drag) donations by threatening to spoil what happens next. (To one very sorry passenger who refuses to pay he booms: “Geoffrey has Ned Stark killed!”)
Though pretty much a string a skits with loose continuity, Rothwell’s episode is obviously the best, as its funky, down and dirty tone belies a super sharp wit and intelligence that is a cut above the other seven featured performers. This lady knows comedy. It ends with a hilarious rap video featuring current SNL cast member Cecily Strong called “Basic Bitch”: (“I never leave home without my selfie stick!”) Netflix should just give Rothwell a series and get it over with. She’s that good.
E6: “Paul W. Downs” D-
Hated it. That’s no hyperbole. Lame characters, lame material. I was surprised because I had been primed to enjoy my viewing, fresh off of watching episodes 3 and 4. To give you an idea: the best bit is an overlong “there’s a severed penis in my soup” skit. Oh, and I also liked the intro, when he snorts a single line of coke that spans the entire length of his dressing room. Nevertheless, unlike the other writer/comedians from the series, Downs chooses to employ a lot of live studio audience stuff, making much of the content look like an old 80s Gallagher Showtime special, which isn’t a compliment. Skip this one.
E7: “Tim Robinson” B
This is good. This guy is also a current writer on SNL. In fact, he goes a step further than Rothwell and abandons any attempt at continuity whatsoever, simply presenting a series of skits. There’s a lot of funny bits here. The best is a Sinatraesque ratpack spoof in which Robinson plays “Sammy Paradise,” a smooth operator who coolly croons his way through a fancy casino until he loses all of his money and is reduced to begging, loudly offering to pimp himself out to any takers. Another good one is Robinson as a father of an infant girl, singing a cheesy lullaby on his acoustic guitar in the style of Bruce Springsteen. The tune starts out as a father/daughter version of “Cat’s in the Cradle” but, as his daughter gets older in the song’s story, the lyrics devolve into a weird bromance between the father and the daughter’s husband, a technically nonexistent, motor cycle riding stud muffin somehow specifically named Jeff.
E8: “Dr. Brown” (Phillip Burgers) A+
This one blew me away. A highly surreal mixture of funny “ha-ha” and funny “strange,” Episode 8 strikes me as an attempt to get nominated for Best Short Film in the Academy Awards rather than a final episode of a streaming series. The focus and completeness of the absurdity enthralled me, enough to allow me to overlook its use of the tired “all in one single shot” gimmick, a cliché already used in a billion music videos and stretched to its limit by Academy award winning Birdman – (or so I had thought).
One shot stuff is also slightly insulting, as it is almost always faked with clever editing. “Dr. Brown” is no exception, but the faking is especially cunning. As with the previous episodes, the star plays more than one character. So he leaves the room and returns to sneak a “change,” often getting “caught” by the camera in the process of putting on or taking off a wig or costume, creating a continuous, neosloppy, live and uncut feel.
I have never heard of this dude before, but evidently he is “award winning.” The truly funny part is Dr. Brown’s real life story: he attended a prestigious clowning school in Paris, just like Zach Galifianakis’ character in Baskets, (a show I reviewed two blogs ago; http://daviewonder.tumblr.com/post/140715666972/blogsix). He even has a giant, thick beard like Galifianakis. In Paris – as did Sacha Baron Cohen – Dr. Brown studied the art of bouffon, a reputed school of charming, physically-based mockery.
Overall, episode 8 is funny but also hypnotic, perhaps even dreamy and beautiful. The ending is fantastic, by the way – so much better than the ending of most movies that I pumped my fist in the air and shouted “yes!”
GOOD JOB, HORACE AND PETE!
I just wanted to award a victory lap for Louis CK and Co. for their awesome, existential masterpiece known as Horace and Pete. The ten episode season came to a close April 2nd, and – though I definitely won’t spoil the conclusion – it looks like there will never be a followup season. I love that. I love series like Fargo or True Detective in which a complete story is told in only one run. But Horace and Pete is even better than those titles because it’s not even an anthology show. In past blogs I’ve railed against series that milk a good thing and return improbably season after season.
I’ve made quite a fuss over this little production in past blogs, and so have critics in general. But the viewing public at large doesn’t seem to have had its collective socks blown off yet. This is probably not due to lack of appeal, as CK is currently at his apex of popularity and success as a standup, talk show guest, and showrunner of Louie on FX. (By the way – CK revealed on a 4/11/16 appearance on the Howard Stern Show that he has changed his mind and will be doing a sixth season for sure).
On top of that, Horace and Pete is star studded. Paul Simon even wanders onset in the final episode. (He wrote the theme song). So the reason for the current lack of popularity must be the delivery system: the show can only be purchased at www.louisck.net. It’s not even on Hulu or some streaming service like that.
However, to be fair, the show is a tough sell as well as a bitter pill to swallow. First of all, it’s a teleplay really, not a TV show per se. Indeed, the pacing makes Jim Jarmusch look like he suffers from A.D.D. And the camera coverage can often be sloppy or misdirected, the sound mixing inconsistent. As well, in spite of the presence of some of the most hilarious lines that CK has ever written, the majority of the content is pure drama. But I think CK should get serious accolades for this. Think about it: we can name dozens of comedians who have moved from comedy to drama successfully – from Robin Williams to Whoopi Goldberg to Jamie Foxx and on down the line. But how many have moved into the realm of pure tragedy successfully as a writer?
Still, those of you who avoid things that are “too depressing” – (a critique that I personally find incoherent in light of what stories are truly meant to do for us) – will probably want to kill yourselves after watching a couple episodes. But the rest of us will find this show cathartic. And if you need another reason to watch, here it is: it represents some of the best and most interesting work that Steve Buscemi, Edie Falco, and especially Alan Alda have ever done. It also humanizes mental and physical illness without a hint of pandering or sentimentality. All told, I can’t say enough about this show. I will most likely watch the whole thing again. (Here is a link to clips from CK’s recent interview, in which he discusses Horace and Pete in great detail: https://www.howardstern.com/news/2016/4/11/joe-pesci-called-louis-ck-stand-not-so-funny-turning-down-role-horace-and-pete/).
The Returned (Les Revenants), Season 2
In 2013, I posted a comprehensive review of the original French version of The Returned – (there is also one season of an American version). In that post I called it “the perfect show.” (http://daviewonder.tumblr.com/post/68715026103/blog-4-the-returned-season-1-episodes-1-8). While I still stick by that assessment, I would like to clarify that I do not feel that way about Season 2, which like the first season is available on Netflix. Although entertaining and still somewhat compelling, Season 2 explains too much and takes on too many new characters. It’s also very repetitive, with the living and walking dead characters doing little else but strolling from house to house when not holed up in one. This is another great example of a show that should have just stuck to one season. The kid actors who play the undead are going to be too old soon anyway.
PORTLANDIA, Season 6
I think time will tell that Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein are one of the best comedy duos ever, right up there with Laurel and Hardy or Cheech and Chong. But boy, did they phone in this latest, recently completed season. Indeed, Portlandia has been spinning its wheels for a little while now. (Maybe Armisen wore himself out doing the far better first season of Documentary Now with Bill Hader, also on IFC). Like so many shows that last more than a few seasons, Portlandia’s creators more often than not lose sight of the show’s original conceit: to skewer hipsters while portraying virtually every type of Portlandian there is.
True, a so-so episode of Portlandia is like a so-so piece of pizza: it’s still pretty good. Just not great. In fact, the first half of the season is quite lame, with too many quixotic pursuits – (Carrie’s biological clock is ticking; will the mayor or Fred help?) – and stale cameos – (Today in Who Gives a Shit news, Zoe Kravitz!)
Season 6 does, however, have four episodes that are every bit as funny as anything that has come from the show so far. They appear in succession, and a couple are even directed by Steve Buscemi:
E6: “TADA”
Self-righteous, uber-uptight Kath and Dave become “disabled;” (not really).
E7: “Family Emergency”
Louis CK gets caught lying about a family emergency in order to avoid Carrie and Fred, who manage to find him anyhow, pitching him god awful, pseudo-comedy material.
E8: “First Feminist City”
Steve Corrigan turns Portland into a city that supposedly caters only to females, only to be infiltrated and destroyed by Candace and Toni, (my very favorite Portlandia characters of all time), proprietors of the Women and Women First bookstore.
E9: “Lance is Smart”
Gender swapping characters Lance and Nina struggle with their relationship because Lance is smart now – er, since he has to start wearing glasses, which make him look like he’s supposed to be smart. Nina is proud of his newfound brilliance, but struggles to keep up, hiring a middle school kid to tutor her so she can talk to Lance’s new circle of intellectual friends.
And finally… Better Call Saul
Have you been watching this show? Why not? Please catch up. It’s so great. Episode 9 of this week was stellar, and the season finale is upon us. I’ve already written up this show before – (http://daviewonder.tumblr.com/post/140715666972/blogsix) – but I grossly and unjustly forgot to praise Rhea Seahorn, who plays struggling underdog lawyer and love interest Kim Wexler. Her character is an actual person, rather than a stock or stereotypical female character like we usually see. Even Bob Odenkirk has been recently quoted as saying “This is the Rhea Seehorn year.”
Whew. That’s enough for now. Next time? Game of Thrones of course! And I don’t mean the 2016 presidential race. (Rimshot). Don’t forget to watch Preacher!
- Second week of April, 2016
Human reality is free because it is not enough. It is free because it is perpetually wrenched away from itself and because it has been separated by nothingness from what it is and what it will be.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingness
Jon Bernthal as Frank “The Punisher” Castle with Vincent D’Onofrio as Wilson “Kingpin” Fisk in Season 2 of Netflix Original Daredevil.
BLOG 7: Netflix Original DAREDEVIL Season 2, aka The Punisher Season 1, earns itself a solid B but could B better
Hip hip hooray! It’s time for a second season of Daredevil on Netflix, here to remind us that House of Cards has too much talking and not enough ass whooping. Before going into the minutiae, The Binger is here to award this season with a solid B, with words to the wise about what pitfalls to avoid next time. (We comic book lovers are oh so precious about our source material). For those of you who are not so sure what to make of this show in the midst of so very many super hero shows out there right now – not to mention super hero franchise films –Marvel’s Daredevil is much higher in quality than DC-based, not-as-popular-as-Superman shows like Gotham, Arrow, the Flash, and Supergirl, but not quite up to the supremacy of, say, Nolan’s Batman films.
Daredevil’s namesake protagonist is Mathew Murdock, played by Charlie Cox (Boardwalk Empire, The Theory of Everything). He is a struggling (and often not very good) Hell’s Kitchen lawyer with no surviving family of his own who also happens to be blind. Murdock’s affliction was caused by an accident suffered as a child and of course – this being the comic book universe and all - the accident was scientifically magical, giving him tremendously acute senses of sound, touch, heat, vibration, and echolocation. Thus, he can “see” far better than any sighted individual, going so far as having to pretend to be disabled by walking around with a cane and letting people guide him by the arm. He is also a superb acrobat and extreme fighter. As Daredevil he patrols the city – by night of course – in a bulletproof, red one-piece. He is so formidable and razor sharp that the vast majority of his opponents and supporters alike fail to realize that his eyeballs are of no use to him.
Nevertheless, though Cox is a great Daredevil – (remember Affleck’s rendition?) – he has never carried the show. In fact, the main lesson we learned from watching Season 2 - (somewhere around the end of episode 8, hint hint hint) – is that Daredevil needs Vincent D’Onofrio in sizable chunks (pun definitely intended) in order for it to be a topnotch, compelling program.
If D’Onofrio isn’t there, if Wilson Fisk aka Kingpin isn’t in the mix, the fascination factor of the other characters and the show as a whole decreases markedly. It’s the Heath Ledger Joker Effect all over again. This is because D’Onofrio seems to understand his character very well – much better than most of his castmates and their respective characters - serving up a three-dimensional synthesis of vulnerable insecurity and vicious strength, doubt and resolve, cultivation and degeneration. Hopefully the actor is signed on for Season 3. (His inclusion in Season 2 was not promoted, intended as a surprise for fans that I will spoil here in order to help you stick with the show. Remember, we are not giving it an A grade and there are reasons for that, explained below). Ultimately, a comparison between Season 1 and 2 teaches us that Daredevil’s status as a high quality series is compromised whenever D’Onofrio is absent from an episode.
So how do we get through all the episodes of the second season before Fisk finally rears his giant head? Not too shabbily, it turns out, because The Punisher has been brought on board. Indeed, we’ve already seen online references to Daredevil Season 2 as “The Punisher, Season 1.” And we’re in luck, because this classically darker Marvel character, like Kingpin, has been very well casted. Walking Deadheads will instantly recognize the actor who plays The Punisher’s face if not his name: Jon Bernthal. He also played an accomplice to DiCaprio and Jonah Hill’s characters in Wolf of Wall Street.
Who is The Punisher? He’s Frank Castle, a fearless and tactically brilliant secret soldier of some apocryphal branch of the U.S. military. His wife and children were murdered right in front of him, so his every waking moment is thrust toward vigilante vengeance. Certainly, Castle’s resolve, incorruptibility, clarity, total lack of awe when facing superhumans, and general misanthropy would make Bruce Wayne of the DC universe proud. But his categorical use of firearms and swiftly dealt murder would make the Dark Knight’s blood curl.
On the Marvel side of things, The Punisher is indeed the blackest of sheep, challenged by relatively more wholesome heroes on a constant basis. Often, when The Punisher appears in comic books – (I highly recommend those created by The Preacher’s Garth Ennis and artist Kevin Dillon, my favorite iteration of the title) – he handily neutralizes rivals such as Daredevil and even Spiderman.
But he won’t kill those guys. And there’s the rub: like the protagonist of Showtime’s Dexter, Castle only wipes out the real bad guys, the ones directly involved in the murder of innocents, illegal business enterprises, and other violations of citizen livelihood. Yet, unlike Dexter and even Batman himself, The Punisher does not hide his face from the public or avoid leaving fingerprints. This aspect of Castle’s M.O. seems to disturb other Marvel heroes even more than his bloodlust, as they can easily argue against the latter, but do not have much of anything to say about the former. All told, The Punisher offers no one, criminals and fellow crimefighters alike, an ounce of leverage. To Daredevil, (whom he calls “Red,” on the show), Castle explains flatly: “When you hit ‘em, they get back up. When I hit ‘em, they stay down.” The Punisher underlines and challenges the philosophical utility of Daredevil's refusal to take a single life, adding crucial poignancy to Murdock’s practices and belief system: all life, no matter how sinful, holds potential for redemption.
And just like the character Daredevil himself, The Punisher is given a much better live action portrayal in the series than in films so far – (see or don’t see: The Punisher with Dolph Lungren, 1989; The Punisher with Thomas Jane, 2004; and the slightly improved Punisher: War Zone, 2008). Again, this is largely due to the casting of Bernthal, though can also be attributed to scripting. In the Netflix series, the true grit of Castle comes out; he walks and talks in a manner that inhabits the character with trauma, swagger, and unbridled indignance. He also tends to use his gun like a gong on The Gong Show – often cutting obligatory speeches from villains short out of disgust or boredom. All told, this best version of Frank Castle is scarier than a pack of ninjas, that’s for sure. Thankfully, his inclusion in Season 3 is inevitable.
So with all this praise, why does The Binger give Daredevil Season 2 a B rating? It can be summed up with one word: Elektra. Good lord, is she ponderous. Sure, Elodie Yung, (whose most notable credit before this was a G.I. JOE movie), is a big step up from Jennifer Garner’s Hollywood portrayal. Truly, Yung’s Elektra is dark, cruel, arrogant, and vicious. But our complaint is bigger than casting. And don’t accuse us of being biased against female heroes or villains because Marvel in particular has some of the very best supershes ever – from Storm to Mystique, She-Hulk to Typhoid Mary. Rather, the problem with Elektra are the thematic implications that her character’s motives, desires, and origins bring to the series, and how these implications negate as well as conflate the original conceit of the show.
You see, Daredevil, Season 1 was perfect because it was not unlike a magical realism version of The Wire. It was about the street, neighborhoods, organized crime, marginalized communities. It was about journalism and the law, how both could be corrupted, how both could be the only hope we have at fighting injustice. It was about the darkness of cities and the random acts of bravery and altruism such environments breed. It was a show that valorized the little guy in the face of limousine riding, self-aggrandizing politicians and bureaucrats, the disease purporting to be the cure. In short, Daredevil, Season 1 was relatable, relevant, and grounded – superhero comic show status notwithstanding. In turn, its use of the fantastic Scott Glenn as also blind warrior/master Stick - (who separately trained both Elektra and Murdock as children) - was organic and useful in its explanation of bookworm Matt’s awesome fighting abilities.
By stark contrast, characters like Elektra (and, by extension, Stick ) bring elements to Daredevil Season 2 that, to paraphrase Joseph Conrad, kick themselves free of the earth. Specifically, we’re talking about nebulous, boring, ancient secret society crap that is urgent, oh so urgent. You know, your classic “there’s a war coming” type stuff, with lots of prattling on about “Black Sky,” “The Hand,” and “The Chaste,” and “training for this your whole life.” This entails scene after scene, episode after episode of one-dimensional Yakuza ninjas (?), abandoned warehouse and rooftop sword fights with cryptic, convoluted motivations, and poorly constructed, hodgepodge origin flashbacks.
Who is Elektra? Well, according to Daredevil Season 2, she is a trained assassin but also a silver spoon socialite who was raised by an ambassador and talks like Lisa Vanderpump from The Real Housewives reality shows. (Yawn). She is also the Snuffleupagus of the show, a Fight Clubish imaginary friend who NEVER interacts with or discusses any of the shows characters aside from Murdock, Stick, and the aforementioned ninja boogeymen – a fact that exacerbates the impression of her structural and tonal inconsequentiality.
Of course, the battle sequences of the show are supreme – better than most – and Elektra/Yung is a giant part of that. But what are we fighting for? Love? Because, try as Cox might to make us believe that Murdock has a deep seated connection with her, there is no authentic chemistry between the two actors whatsoever. All in all, the inclusion of Elektra in Season 2 threatens to make this show about nothing rather than about something.
Alas, Elektra is always included at some point in Daredevil storytelling because she is a creation of Frank Miller, the Billy Shakespeare of 80s comics. In fact, before Miller blessed us all with his canonical, ubiquitously influential takes on Batman such as The Dark Knight Returns and Year One (both from 1986 for D.C. Comics), he had made a name for himself at Marvel by taking over the writing of Daredevil (1979-1983), greatly increasing the popularity of what had been a B-list character, originally created in 1964 by Jack Kirby, Stan Lee , and artist Bill Everett, (whose surviving daughter Wendy is legally blind). Even Stan Lee would have to admit that, without the (albeit second generational contribution) of Frank Miller to the Daredevil cannon, the Netflix series very well wouldn’t even exist. The show definitely uses Miler’s look and tone as a template. Indeed, Miller did with Daredevil what Hendrix did with Dylan’s “All Along the Watchtower:” popularized the lesser known original while bringing it far more subtlety and resonance.
Still, Daredevil is not Miller’s creation. But Elektra is. And the man has already spoken out about her inclusion in the Netflix series. A few months ago, he was quoted as saying: “You can call it whatever you want, but it will not be the real Elektra.” [cinemablend.com]. Evidently, he made a deal with Marvel that she not be used in future releases, having killed her off for good. But Marvel’s status as a company has changed over the years, and Miller’s agreement has not held.
The true heroine of Daredevil is Karen Page (Deborah Ann Woll, apprentice vampire in the once kinda cool turned plain awful True Blood). Quite unlike Elektra, Karen’s equality/superiority to her male counterparts is not argued via a talent for maim and murder. Also antithetical to Elektra, (and quite telling from the standpoint of the show’s writers), is Karen’s explicit, demonstrable relevance to what could be considered the “real” show –basically all major and minor characters who are not involved in the politics of secret ninja societies.
And most importantly, though she cleverly manages to present herself as a supportive cheerleader to her masculine colleagues, Karen is a constant, organic plot driver. She fearlessly pursues new angles, uncovers fresh leads and assertively pitches them to lawyers, journalists, and law enforcement, who are always willing to follow her lead with grateful enthusiasm and zero criticism. None of the guys around her come close to that level of inspiration and influence.
Ever loyal but unflinchingly capable of giving her bosses and even The Punisher an ultimatum, Karen Page is on her way to becoming a partner in a small law firm without any law school experience AND a major contributor to a reputed newspaper with no journalistic training – all just by sheer talent, people skills, and will. In fact, compared to Elektra’s omnipresence in Daredevil ‘s Season 2 ad campaign, Karen Page’s near exclusion from these same promotions is an insult to female viewers everywhere.
And speaking of strong schlubs who don’t beat people up, Foggy Nelson (Elden Henson) continues to be a welcome, standout character. In Season 2, Foggy’s professional patience and personal conscience are put through the ringer. Though he still remains the knowingly cheesy, self-deprecating, altruistic underdog, he really asserts himself this time round, making some tough choices without falling apart, all while maintaining perfect integrity. Actually, it is he and Karen who suffer the most from Murdock’s dalliances with Elektra’s nonsense – (though Foggy is the only who has heard of her before, from their college days).
Another noticeable and perhaps unnerving element of Season 2 is the fact that, very much unlike Season 1, the cast is more white and white-centric, an aspect that is perhaps incidental, though nonetheless troubling. Season 1 was far more colorful and equal opportunity with friends and foes alike, featuring fleshed out minor characters that varied in ethnicity, class, generation, and native tongue. (Again, comparisons to The Wire are not farfetched). For example, Season 1 was loaded with Spanish dialog - white characters employing the language as well - and there were rich African American characters such as diehard reporter Ben Urich (Vondie Curtis-Hall).
Especially conspicuous along these lines this season is the Asian minstrel show, specifically the peculiar manner in which the Japanese are portrayed. Authentic roots to the Marvel source material notwithstanding – (Nobu, et al) – the problem here is twofold: 1) Literally every single Japanese character is a robotic, psychotic, sadistic, credulous fanatic, categorically indebted to efficient pursuit of collective delusion, to the point of performing evil blood transfusions on child abductees. 2) Despite the formidable resolve and expertise of this seemingly endless legion of shadow lurking ninjas, the white warriors – Murdock, Stick, and Elektra – always prove to be far better skilled, committing a sort of mass genocide of lesser Asians. (Yung is a French woman but technically half-Cambodian). Again, we don’t really know if this practice of blanket caricaturizion is intentional, but it would still be advisable for the showrunners to be mindful of this odd, conceptually hollow trend in the future.
So, all in all, what’s the moral of our story? More Daredevil please. More barely lit, Hell’s Kitchen set pieces. More Nelson and Murdock – (soon to be Page, Nelson, and Murdock). More political and journalistic arcs. More realistic enemies. And most importantly, MORE KINGPIN and THE PUNISHER!
But gives us a break with all this Black Sky/The Hand flimflam. To the show’s credit, Murdock frequently vocalizes his disdain for what he calls Stick’s and Elektra’s “mysticism.” But he’s still too wound up in it, and therefore so is a considerable percentage of each episode. True, it’s compelling to see Murdock struggle to keep his life and sanity in order, but Netflix is not doing the show or Frank Miller any favors with its heavy use of Elektra and all the narrative effluvia she brings.
Coming Next: Portlandia, American Crime, and The Returned – unless I change my mind:
- late March, 2016
Edie Falco w/ Rick Shapiro, Horace and Pete, Episode 7
Look at me. I struggle. So I appear weak. People don’t want to look at the weak because it reminds them of their own weakness. But what they don’t get is, when someone’s struggling, it means he’s strong. He’s strong because the weak don’t struggle. They just die. So whatever you think of me, I’m alive. So go ahead. Ignore me. Go about your day – even though I’m the one who made you feel special. Just like my brother, who I gave the strength to neglect me, I put you on a pedestal. And now you can’t see me.
Louis C.K. (Performed by comedian/actor Rick Shapiro), Horace and Pete, Episode 7
“Thing you folks need to know about me: I got nothing to lose.” — James McGill
BLOG #6, Official Binge Guide: Better Call Saul, Horace and Pete, Baskets, Venture Bros, Bob’s Burgers, Fortitude, Love
Have no fear. Your unfriendly neighborhood Binger has been punching the clock for you. In this 21st Century Golden Age of Television, there are too many shows to tempt your vegetative consciousness. Therefore, you need a sofa scallion like me to unmuck the muck. Take my advice and watch what I have watched, and you’ll be just fine. Here’s the rundown, so make a list:
BETTER CALL SAUL
The thing I love about Vince Gilligan shows is the fact that, unlike SO many others, there are no pointless subplots, no unmanageable excess numbers of characters. Yet, despite the stark storytelling, the producers pay us the audience the compliment of assuming we have reasonable attention spans, allowing things to build, actors to breathe. And like Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul can be tense and even scary while also being very funny.
But this origins-prequel-spinoff is a different animal. Whereas Bryan Cranston’s Walter White’s story is Mr. Rogers becomes Scarface, Bob Odenkirk’s “Slippin’” Jimmy McGill – (no, he still hasn’t changed his name to Saul yet) – follows a different trajectory: con man makes good, only to become discouraged from being good, to becoming a sort of con man while sort of remaining good, to – well, becoming the morally bankrupt “Saul” that Breaking Bad fans know and love.
Moreover, though the threat is always there, it is possible to get through an episode of Better Call Saul without seeing a lick of violence – (or at the most, a little punching here and there). And the characters are great. This is Spinal Tap’s Michael McKean’s Chuck McGill, Jimmy’s far more prestigious yet mentally disturbed older brother, was a focal point of Season 1, (now streaming on Netflix), but my new favorite guy is “Pryce,” a carryover from the end of last season that thus far has figured more heavily in Season 2. This nasally monotone amateur criminal – the antithesis of Walter White as far as acumen for learning on the job goes – is hilariously but sympathetically played by Mark Proksch. And of course Jonathan Banks’ “Mike,” another character Breaking Bad fans adore, continues to help carry the show.
It won’t be too hard to catch up with this excellent series. Season 2 has just had a few episodes so far, airing on AMC, 10pm Mondays. (By the way, check out Odenkirk’s performance in the first season of Fargo, as well as his reunion sketch series with David Cross, w/ Bob & David, streaming on Netflix).
FORTITUDE
Ever heard of this one before? Neither had I. But I stumbled upon Fortitude, available to stream on Amazon Prime, and binged all dozen episodes straight through. (Evidently the show originally came out in 2013 on a UK channel called Sky Atlantic). Stanley Tucci is the only actor I know – (he doesn’t show until episode 2) – but the remaining actors are very compelling, and the plot builds nicely scene per scene. This murder mystery has many inventive twists and turns, ones that keep us guessing as to how natural or supernatural things really are, with a biological, prehistoric twist in the form of a newly discovered mammoth graveyard.
The show takes place in a fictional Norwegian settlement town of the same name, an island outside “the mainland” (Iceland) with a population of 800 and four cops. It’s the kind of place where the sheriff will not allow you to go for a nature walk without a rifle because a polar bear might eat you.
Fortitude is sexy and mysterious but also often gory. The squeamish will have a hard time watching certain scenes for sure. And for those of you who like sunshine blown up your you-know-whats, I would definitely file this one under “T” for tragedy. Still, the show is a beautifully shot, gripping synthesis of wonder, terror, and yearning. As well, it seems to be a single season series, which I love. I hate when shows go on season after season.
HORACE AND PETE
Like Bernie Sanders, comedian Louis CK is somehow able to express himself sans the inevitable support of corporate financial backers, all while maintaining a considerable amount of accolades and fame. I specifically speak of CKs latest project, the exceptional series Horace and Pete. As mentioned in my previous blog, which discusses the show in detail, this surprise series – (its existence was a secret until the day of its debut a month and a half prior) – is featured on no network or streaming service, major or minor. Rather, it can only be purchased then downloaded or streamed directly from louisck.net (https://louisck.net/show/horace-and-pete).
About a month ago, in an email announcing the release of episode 2, CK directly told us fans:
“Warning: this show is not a ‘comedy.’ I dunno what it is. It can be funny. And also not. Both. I believe that ‘funny’ works best in its natural habitat. Right in the jungle along with ‘awful,’ ‘sad,’ ‘confusing,’ and ‘nothing.’ I just think it's fair this one time to warn you since you have every right to expect a comedy from a comedian. I will not warn you again.”
The warning was fair. The show has had six heart wrenching, occasionally hilarious episodes so far, not only written, produced, and directed but also distributed and financed by Louie himself. Since the production is totally in house, each episode costs $3, a price that may seem steep but is well worth it. New episodes are released on Saturday mornings and they are so fresh that characters actually discuss current events of the week. (For example, in Episode 6 they talk about the Republicans trying to stop Trump being their nominee and Clinton possibly being the first female president).
This refreshingly simple, stage play-like show features a topnotch cast including Steve Buscemi, Alan Alda, Edie Falco, Jessica Lange, Steven Wright, SNL’s Aidy Bryant, and Kurt Metzger. Buscemi is my favorite on the show, his characterization of Pete being one of the most multi-dimensional I’ve seen of his great career. Speaking of career triumphs, Laurie Metcalf, of Roseanne and Getting On fame, gives an astonishing guest performance in episode 3, delivering elaborate, engaging monologues that prove her advanced technical prowess as an actress. I didn’t know she had it in her.
Overall, the show’s episodes have loose continuity between themselves, so it’s not necessarily required to watch them in chronological order, (though of course it helps). The drama is intense, but it’s not a soap opera. It’s about moments. I’ve seen B- reviews for this show in A.V. Club, but episodes 1-6 are A+’s in my finicky book. So there.
BOB’S BURGERS
If you don’t watch prime time or late night cartoons, you should. They feature some of the funniest comedy writing TV has to offer. But I’m not talking about completely dull, nonsensical, and played out staples like The Simpsons and Family Guy, shows that died a long time ago but still return year after year, season after empty season, like so many zombies. I’m talking about Bob’s Burgers, featuring the always a scream H. John Benjamin (Archer) and irreverent comics such as regulars Eugene Mirman and Kristen Schaal, (Flight of the Conchords), as well as recurring guests like Kevin Kline, Jim Gaffigan, and Zach Galifianakas.
This show about a mom and pop burger shop is in Season 6, new episodes sporadically airing on Sunday nights on Fox. (Past shows appear on Cartoon Network every night and can also be streamed on Netflix). One of the main reasons why I love this show is, like its Adult Swim costar King of the Hill, Bob’s Burgers tells straightforward, rational stories that could conceivably be reenacted onstage with live actors. (Indeed, there have been live performances of Bob’s Burgers). This is a far cry from the fantastically spazzed out, intentionally shocking, random cutaway, idea diarrhea style of The Simpsons and anything that Seth McFarlane puts out like third-rate fast food.
Lovably lowbrow then wickedly clever with gourmet quality goofiness, Bob’s Burgers is possibly one of the only shows on TV right now where the parents are actually decent people. It’s also fun to check the hilarious original music. SPECIAL TIP: Watch the storefront to the left of Bob’s Burgers – (the eatery, not the show) - in the opening credits. It’s always something different, with a terrible pun for a name. Reminds me of my neighborhood.
LOVE
The first thing I thought when I saw the ultra-generic, artless title of this Judd Apatow created Netflix Original was “really?” The second thing I did was groan, because I am totally sick of Apatow, whose chief contribution to comedy films seems to be making them an hour longer than they need to be, overloaded with masturbatory comedic actor improvs that he can never seem to bring himself to edit out. Nonetheless, I binged Love straight through.
I think it was mainly the chemistry between stars Paul Rust, a very likable, sort of 21st century Los Angeles version of Woody Allen, and Gillian Jacobs, whose “Mickey” will scare the beejeezus out of any guy who has ever fallen for a girlfriend-from-hell. One of my favorite things about the show is what Rust’s “Gus” does for a living: he’s an on-set tutor for a spoiled child actress who stars in a B grade show about witches. And, although Love isn’t exactly reinventing the wheel with its awkward, embarrassing humor, it really made me laugh and I cared about the characters. I won’t spoil anything, but it seems like the show will return for a second season judging from the finale. In fact, Apatow should stick to doing series, where he can get away with taking a long time to tell a story.
VENTURE BROS.
Though co-starring Seinfeld and Family Guy’s Patrick Warburton and a slew of celebrity guest voices, Venture Bros. still remains a cult thing. This is probably because of its channel and time slot: Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim, midnight Sunday nights, (which is technically Monday morning). I’m not being daft and suggesting that this is 1995 and viewers are relegated to watching shows at appointed times, mind you. It’s just that I don’t see the show advertised much anywhere else.
This is too bad, because this Johnny Quest-inspired satire of super scientists, superheroes, and super villains is as great right now as it has ever been since its debut over 12 years ago. In Season 6, Dr. Venture’s wannabe nemesis The Monarch has deteriorated into a bit of a has-been, a stay-at-home boyfriend who serves as a constant disappointment to Dr. Girlfriend, whose arch villain career is still relevant and on the rise. However, The Monarch slowly manages to regain his former level of ruthlessness via his fanboy-henchman-enabler-sidekick 21, who talks him into donning the suit of superhero (! What will the Guild of Calamitous Intent say?!) Blue Morpho, an intentionally obvious knockoff of the Green Hornet. 21 convinces The Monarch to wear the suit by explaining that a morpho is also a type of butterfly, something you would think a guy named after a butterfly would know already.
Also notable debuts this season:
- thespian Jeffrey Wright as Think Tank, a little philosophy professor with a giant head who rides around in a tank body and has just received permission from the Guild to “arch” Dr. Venture
- the Crusaders Action League, a three member sendup of the Avengers and Justice League that shakes people down for protection money, featuring Wonder Woman-like, single-breasted Warriana, who serves as a take-charge love interest for Warbuton’s “Brock.”
- the Doom Factory, led by Wes Warhammer, who talks like Andy Warhol and leads a group of misfits that dig psychedelic partying.
BASKETS
Taking a page from the Louis CK Tragic and Lonely is Funny handbook, Zach Galifianakis vehicle Baskets, Thursday nights at 10pm on FX, is beyond odd. Evidently, after the success and acclaim of the artsy Louie, FX asked CK if he wanted to make anything else. CK in turn passed the baton to Galifianakis, who came up with this: a show about a clown who studied (cluelessly) at a supposedly renowned clowning college in Paris, only to have to return to his mother’s home in Bakersfield, CA and work as a local rodeo clown, considered the absolute bottom scum of the rodeo world.
Even odder is Galifianakis’ duel role as protagonist Chip Baskets and his antagonistic, much more successful twin brother Dale. (Get it? Chip and Dale?) Oddest is the casting of comedian Louie Anderson (remember him?) as Chip and Dale’s mother, Mrs. Baskets. Yet, as strange as these casting choices initially seem, they prove to make the show something special. In fact, it is not only pleasantly surprising how quickly one gets used to Louie walking around in a wig and dress, but also amazing how endearing and believable his portrayal of the character is. Indeed, Mom is the moral compass of the show and, if it were up to me, I’d give the man an Emmy right now. I jest you not. (Well – maybe a little bit).
This ability to use actors in drag in a way that is both likeable and plausible is probably due to the influence of showrunner Jonathan Krisel, co-creator and writer of Portlandia, a show in which stars Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein appear in drag on a constant basis. And, coupled with Anderson’s performance, Galifianakis’ portrayals of “her” sons causes this creepy but sometimes heartwarming show to rise to Dostoevskyian proportions, poignantly embodying self-as-object-for-the-other existential crises with its use of a single actor playing rival siblings.
Still, Baskets is wickedly funny, with its killer one-liners and innovative brand of pathetic, intensely physical comedy that only Galifianakis could pull off. Also worth shouting out is Martha Kelly , a standup comic whose very first acting gig is Baskets. She plays Martha, a socially-tenacious insurance claims adjuster evidently allergic to using vocal inflections.
All told, if you hate clowns, this won’t change your opinion. We can feel bad for Chip, but his abrasive attitude sure makes it hard to sympathize. But the show is easy to enjoy if you like stuff that is off the beaten path.
Okay, that’s it for now. Is that enough? NOT. Do you think that’s all the shows I’ve been watching or have watched lately? NOT! Coming up next: House of Cards, Portlandia, Red Oaks, and whatever else I haven’t gotten to yet.
- mid-March 2016
“[N]obody is capable of really thinking about anyone, even in the worst calamity. For really to think about someone means thinking about that person every minute of the day, without letting one’s thoughts be diverted by anything—by meals, by a fly that settle’s on one’s cheek, by household duties, or by a sudden itch somewhere. But there are always flies and itches. That’s why life is difficult to live.”
Albert Camus
BLOG #5: SURPRISE! Horace and Pete, Season 1, Episode 1, costarring Steve Buscemi , Edie Falco, Aidy Bryant, Alan Alda, and Jessica Lange. The best, most heart wrenching thing writer/director Louis C.K. has done yet. SHOW GRADE: A
Available to purchase and download only from Louie’s website:
https://louisck.net/show/horace-and-pete
This blog contains no spoilers.
Louis CK has surprised his fans with a wonderful new release that is definitely one of my favorite things he has created thus far. So hot-off-the-presses that characters not only discuss Donald Trump and the upcoming Iowa caucuses but also his decision to withdraw from the most recent Republican debates, Horace and Pete is a captivating yet emotionally draining synthesis of the best aspects of CK’s ill-fated but quite good HBO series Lucky Louie and his much more successful and critically acclaimed FX series Louie.
Specifically, Horace and Pete is physically executed as if it were filmed in front of a live studio audience in the manner of Lucky Louie. However, there clearly is no studio audience, no one to laugh, giggle, or go “aaawww.” Thus, anything a character says, good or bad, is greeted with the same indifferent silence of an on location, single camera Louie episode. In fact, Horace and Pete is one of the most strikingly minimalist productions featuring major stars that I have ever seen on television since the early 1980s, when infant channels like HBO and the then more popular Showtime used to air Broadway plays. No wonder Mr. CK didn’t even bother trying to sell this project to a network, which would have been no doubt horrified by such a proposition.
BRAVE PRODUCTION STYLE
Perhaps liberated by having already succeeded in proving himself to be a creative, surrealistically thoughtful director with Louie, CK’s camera direction for Horace and Pete is conversely standoffish and simple, intentionally lacking closeups or artsy angles of any kind. The cameras never move in a noticeable way, much less zoom in, even at moments in the drama that seem to scream out for such conventions.
Indeed, all shots are like long masters. The majority of them include almost everybody in the room, featured actor or extra. There are exactly two sets: the bar and a small upstairs apartment, both looking as if they might as well have been built in a high school gymnasium with a budget of fifty cents. Aside from just a few medium shots here and there, the cameras, which don’t seem to be all that HD in quality, chiefly just cover the stage, often evidently regardless of where the actors sit or stand. In turn, the actors, though mainly seasoned veterans many times over, don’t appear to be particularly aware of any blocking outside of what would be required for a stage performance.
Moreover, as viewers, we can’t be sure if the cast performed the whole 67 minutes in one take – (there is an intermission, and actors do flub lines here and there) – or performed multiple long, continuous takes that were edited together. In fact, Horace and Pete seems like a procedural filming of a dress rehearsal, something the actors could use as a private reference in preparation for the actual performance in front of an audience at a later date.
But I mean all of this in a good way!
These jarringly bare production values were clearly set up as necessary preconditions for honest, thoughtful, schtickless acting. Truly, the cast members have nothing but the text and their chops standing between us, the viewers, and their respective performances. And, while there are probably many viewers out there who don’t care for CK or his work at all, they will have to admit after seeing this that the man is perpetually obsessed with trying to do something fresh, interesting, meaningful, relatable, and worth an audience’s time. Horace and Pete is the culmination of this career long artistic anxiety, a quiet, heart wrenching triumph for CK.
CAST AND PLOT
This is a show that, by design, requires actors who are comfortable on stage and can create chemistry there without a lot of bells, whistles, or scenery chewing. Along with CK as Horace, (one of many Horaces, as it turns out), the cast is blessed with the participation of heavyweight thespians, with Steve Buscemi as Pete, (one of many namesakes as well), Edie Falco (!) as sister Sylvia, Alan Alda as Uncle Pete, (the penultimate Pete), and Jessica Lange, (almost unrecognizable in this stellar but far more muted performance compared to her recent Emmy-winning work in American Horror Story).
Buscemi is probably responsible for bringing the finicky Falco into the fold, having worked with her in The Sopranos as well as directed her in Nurse Jackie, (a show I don’t care for at all, by the way). I am so glad, as they are two of my very favorite actors. Particularly, Buscemi is adept at skirting the line between comedy and tragedy, and I prefer when he plays troubled, insecure bundles of nerves like Pete rather than stoic alpha males like Nucky Thompson of Boardwalk Empire, (although an excellent show).
As well, it is great to see Aidy Bryant, current cast member of Saturday Night Live, as Horace’s daughter Alice. That SNL roster always seems overstuffed with players. A lot of the time certain cast members get lost in the shuffle. Bryant is very talented, so it’s nice that she was able to nab this prestige project that will definitely get her noticed. She, Buscemi, and CK really seem to have known each other for years, the bittersweet combination of bottom-up intimacy and awkward resentment palpable amongst them. It is also really cool to see the great standup legend Steven Wright sitting at the end of the bar. He isn’t given much to say or do, but his presence is always welcome. (In real life, Wright knows filmmaking and actually mentors CK on and off the set of Louie).
Plotwise, the show peels the proverbial onion, employing dialog carefully to reveal, one layer at a time, yet another element of the story and what’s at stake. Therefore, while Horace and Pete is definitely not a thriller, there are certain basic facts about the show and its characters that I think would spoil your viewing experience were I to reveal them here. Having said that, I can explain a few things:
The bar is called Horace and Pete’s, a typical Brooklyn “dive bar” - (in the words of a group of snarky, young liberal hipsters who try to order mixed drinks, only to be rebuffed) - and it has been in existence for 100 years. CK’s Horace and Buscemi’s Pete are the current proprietors, but have only been so for exactly one year. They are ambivalent about this, taking the responsibility seriously and working hard, but uncertain about their place in it all or why this family business should even continue.
Alda’s Uncle Pete is a sort of anti-mascot with nowhere else to be, a racist, misogynistic, homophobic narcissist who says things that would make Hawkeye throw up, uttering the word “nigger” three times while explaining to a shocked female patron that he is not a hateful bigot. Lange’s character is an ex-lover of Horace and Pete’s dead father, also Horace, Uncle Pete’s former partner. Falco and Bryant, as aforementioned, are sister and daughter respectively. Horace is afraid of the former and estranged from the latter. Horace also has a live-in girlfriend, a new-age-smile-and-be-happy type played by Rebecca Hall.
Over the course of the episode, several elements of backstory are revealed, a number of which that surprise, vex, and even shock the characters themselves. And when Falco’s assertive, supremely level-headed character arrives at the climax of the second half, she devastatingly lays bare the full magnitude of self-absorbed, patriarchal abuse that has been Horace and Pete’s (the bar, not the current proprietor’s) true legacy for the audience to consider soberly. Usually, whether its Cheers or Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia, we root for the gang to keep the bar open no matter what. But Horace and Pete’s? Well, maybe it should close after all.
MORE ACCESSIBILITY THAN PREVIOUS WORK
Those who say CK’s humor can be vulgar, perverse, rude, and even scatological won’t get any arguments here. He can be an acquired taste. In fact, another one of his new shows, Baskets on FX with Zach Galifinakis, is much in the same vein if not worse – (“worse” only if you are turned off to that sort of stuff). But Horace and Pete is an exception that many Louie detractors will be surprised to find quite accessible.
Sure, Alda, Lange, and regular CK player Nick DiPaulo – (once again relegated to playing a token conservative, a cocky devil’s advocate of liberal discussions) – all play characters who are far from politically correct. (For her part, Lange calls Hilary Clinton a rhymes-with-hunt). But so was Archie Bunker. Overall, Horace and Pete is about family - in terms of communication, in terms of secrecy, in terms of domestic abuse, in terms of mental health, in terms of male versus female angst, in terms of social issues and politics. Family. No gross out stunts or quixotic Comedy Cellar rants. Just people trying to face facts, taking things one day at a time, trying to maintain if not be better, to move forward and not backslide, to accept people for who they are with honesty rather than ignorance or silence.
And even though the show is mostly about talking, subtle actions say so much. Alda’s character introduces himself to us by walking into the bar and marching over to a juke box, unplugging it midsong without a word. No one protests. The bar is silent. Everyone knows there’s no point in arguing with the man. Later, when Horace and his daughter sit at a table to talk, Buscemi’s Pete hovers, pretending to sweep for a while, then abandons his lame ruse and just sits down with them. He says nothing yet seems so engrossed, on egg shells about the whole thing. His silent, twitching presence at the table is accepted, or at least not protested, by the other two. In fact, by the episode’s conclusion, it might be Pete who is fleshed out the most, three-dimensionally speaking. No less noteworthy is what Falco brings to the proceedings. Her stubborn voice of reason, her impatience with Uncle Pete’s tirades indeed make it near impossible for any male family member to defend himself, though Uncle Pete will not give up without a fight.
I am not sure how many episodes there will be of Horace and Pete, nor do I know when they would be available. Like everyone else, this release came as a complete surprise. And the pricetag might be high for a pay-per-episode kind of thing: $5. Still, I can’t wait to see what happens next, and thank Mr CK and company for not insulting my intelligence. This latest release reminds me very much of the work Richard Pryor did with Lily Tomlin for her two television specials back in the 1970s: concerned more with stories and character than turning every single moment into a punchline.
Still, Horace and Pete is pretty funny, too. Do yourself a favor and check out this pilot.
1/31/2016
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LOUIS CK: Horace and Pete Episode 1 available NOW.
COMING SOON...
The Binger is coming out of mothballs...
Version 2.0, 2016!