Examining ‘True Detective’ as an anthology series

nETFLIX AND STRESS: Romantic comedy characters fall in love with complex narratives

Many genres carry connotations of varying positivity, but none seem more exclusively stereotyped as romantic comedy. The genre’s appeal is one of pure catharsis. We love to laugh, and we love to love. Mixing both together is a bubbly concoction of our favorite kinds of happy.
But despite this, many romantic comedy narratives fall short of compelling. Sure, it’s unfair to measure work solely on the depth of its narrative, but it does seem that a vast majority of films and television shows in this category use their genre as a crutch that supports their empty characters. However, when a romantic comedy series is executed using real characters and grounded stories, the resulting product is a treat for the heart and mind both.
Let’s take a look at FXX’s fresh series “You’re the Worst.” The premise is far from original. Music publicist and giant mess Gretchen (Aya Cash) careens into the life of novelist and misanthropist Jimmy (Chris Geere). They’re both awful people who “don’t do relationships,” and then, naturally, fall hard for each other after their first night together. While this basis sounds tired, the superficiality of the show ends there. In two seasons, showrunner Stephen Falk has churned out one of the tightest shows on television.
What separates “You’re the Worst” from the pack of its predictably pedantic genre-mates is an ensemble of rich and engaging characters. The romantic leads both find lovable foils in Edgar, Jimmy’s freeloading roommate, and Lindsey, a pampered housewife and Gretchen’s best friend. Unfortunately, these brief descriptions do little justice to the strong character work put forth by the show’s writing. Every member of the ensemble has their own brand of ridiculous humor that is reinforced by its consistency, and that consistency carries over into the quality of the acting. “You’re the Worst” demonstrates that when characters are written well and don’t act against their personalities, a show’s plot clicks into place and fires on all pistons.
While Falk has managed to create a bold take on an old story, Aziz Ansari doubles down on the romantic comedy narrative in his Netflix hit “Master of None.” This show came out swinging; the 10-episode premier season hits on almost every mark of adulthood. Ansari stars as Dev, an aspiring actor and frustrated adult. The entire tone of the show is refreshing; its cast varies from episode to episode. Dev is the only string tying the ten pieces together. This allows for a broad ensemble comprised of funny and consistent characters, similar to “You’re the Worst.”
The central arc of the show follows Dev’s search for a relationship and the trials and tribulations of maintaining one. This plot is, again, incredibly common as a motor for comedic television, but for Ansari, it becomes the deep well of emotional material on which his show is centered. The bottom line for this show is that every character matters, whether it’s Dev’s main romantic interest or the taco guy with three lines. Each interaction is meaningful and clever, and the depth to which Ansari dives into the truths about love and cohabitation makes for the most insightful television of this year.
Both of these series show us that even in the most exhausted of genres, depth of character can push narratives past their potential into powerful pieces. In the case of romantic comedy, strong writing and dismissing clichés allow for a real exploration of some of the things that make us human. It’s TV that we can connect to, and second to all that insanity Walter White pulled, it’s the most engaging. If you want more shows that pull this off, check out “Jane the Virgin,” “Scrubs” and “Parks and Recreation.” (And if you haven’t seen those last two, then that’s probably the only thing you should be doing this weekend.)

nETFLIX AND STRESS: Game show masterpiece: ‘Family Feud’

“This is Joey Fatone, and it’s time to play Family Feud!” Not only does that sentence reveal the depths to which post-N*SYNC life has carried Fatone, but it also indicates the start of possibly the most engaging game show ever made. It combines the simple with the impossible and the outrageous with the mundane. Gilgamesh and the Iliad combined cannot compare to the sheer staying power that Family Feud brings to modern entertainment. Critically acclaimed dramas and side-splitting comedies alike quake in the face of Steve Harvey’s caterpillar mustache. “Family Feud” can entertain even the ficklest of audiences. It unabashedly holds up a mirror to society and reflects the ideology held therein. It’s a goddamn masterpiece.
The most impressive part of Family Feud is its sheer longevity. It has aired (nonconsecutively) for over thirty years and is showing no slowing in popularity. In June 2015, it surpassed “Wheel of Fortune” as the most-watched syndicated game show on television, a fact which incidentally coincides with the crumbling of Pat Sajak’s marriage. As the show’s most recent host, Harvey brings to the table his superhuman ability to be blown away by even the slightest of inappropriate responses. He goes agape for a solid thirty seconds after someone answers the prompt of “Name someone who uses a pole” with “Stripper!” No matter the frequencies of these outrageous answers, Steve is unfailingly floored. Some point out that it feels as if the producers are steering into the skid by asking loaded questions to prompt inappropriate answers, but is it really their fault that someone comes up with a dirty response to “Name something you put in your mouth but don’t swallow?”
So how exactly does the Feud dominate the game show market? For starters, pretty much anyone can play the game. It’s a unique type of trivia based exclusively on answers to surveys, which means that all the answers depend on the public interviewed. This develops accessibility to a large audience. Some may struggle to answer “Sakura cheese from Hokkaido is a soft cheese flavored with leaves from this fruit tree,” in the form of a question, but everyone can come up with at least one answer to the question “What type of animal do you see in the park?” when it’s asked eight consecutive times. It rewards the common man, the player who’s in tune with the populous.
That said, boy howdy are there some dumb answers on the show, but from an entertainment perspective, buffoonery is equally engaging. “Name a way to say hello in a language other than English.” “Howdy!” “Holla!” “Oui oui!” That episode has forever altered my opinion of our nation’s collective cultural intelligence. It was also not an isolated incident. The frustration induced when a pitifully wrong guess is greeted by a familial chorus of “Good answer! Good answer!” is potent enough to cause a hernia. The pressure of fast money especially can pull embarrassingly revealing answers out of unsuspecting contestants. “Name a place your doctor might look in with a little flashlight.” “Your butt!” Even more disconcerting was that the answer was repeated in the second round.
Family Feud is the same story told a thousand different ways. The questions and answers evolve but the format stays the same. Every game the players change, meaning every game the heroes and villains are made anew. Some families are fun, some are lame, some are awkward as hell, but under the guidance of the modern television messiah Broderick Stephen Harvey, every one of them has a shot at greatness.

nETFLIX AND STRESS

Examining ‘True Detective’ as an anthology series

This piece represents the opinion of the author:

Trevor Murray

Columnist

February 12, 2016

I’m tired of making excuses for my “True Detective” poster. You won’t find the nihilistic Rust Cohle or the womanizing Marty Hart on the wall of my common room, but rather Antigone “Ani” Bezzerides, Rachel McAdams’ season two detective. The comment I always receive is “I love ‘True Detective!’ Why season two?” First, it was a gift from a friend who worked at HBO (which is dope). Second, while definitely not superior to its predecessor, I like the second season of “True Detective” a lot.

But I always feel like I have to excuse the fact that it’s from season two, even though all things considered it’s a good season of television. Sure, it has a trio of complexly intertwining narratives, and the intensity sometimes seemed forced upon the show rather than inherently part of its writing, but it was good. The writing was tight, the characters were well-acted and the dramatic twists kept my jaw dropping. Really, its biggest flaw is that it just isn’t season one.
“True Detective” is an anthology show, meaning that every season is a different mini-series connected by themes and sometimes even characters.

Mini-series are a short and exciting way to exhibit a screened narrative, as they have a predetermined number of episodes. The story starts and ends in the same season. By giving the story a set expiration date (as opposed to the Frankenstein tactic of syndicating series long past their peak), each episode can work towards one spectacular finale. This lends them a filmic quality that allows dramas to empty their fuel tanks in one season.

When “True Detective” premiered in 2014, it rocked the television scene. It was a dark, unabashed look at human monstrosity and the darkness that lurks within us, as well as a wildly compelling story. You can’t tell from his Lincoln ads, but Matthew McConaughey monologuing in a steadily paced car is nothing short of gripping. The sheer quality the show possessed rocketed it to the height of popularity. Unfortunately for season two of “True Detective,” the explosive first season set monumentally high expectations.

In a seeming effort of distinguishing the two, the second season is nothing like its first. Barren backwoods Louisiana landscapes are replaced with the dark and winding maze of Los Angeles. Cults and churches are traded for sex and politics. Instead of a flashback, the season doubles the number of protagonists for more threads.

Rehashing is not something that season two can be accused of, yet that is where most of the fan base becomes alienated. Concurrent themes of human darkness were not enough for the second “True Detective” to surmount the expectations set by the premiere. The anthology format tarnishes the reputation of an otherwise powerful story.

This doesn’t mean that anthologies always end up as a mix-match of miniseries. FX’s “Fargo” just premiered with a second season that blows the expectations set by the first out of the water. The first season follows a series of crimes in modern day Minnesota and North Dakota, and it balances on the tightrope of black comedy with a deftness familiar to the Coen Brothers.

The second season is just nothing short of spectacular. The action is insane, and every single character is unique and hilarious (Nick Offerman especially makes for a stellar alcoholic lawyer). But the star of the season is the setting: 1979 gangland North Dakota. Vietnam lingers like a specter over the shoulder of half the show’s roster, and much of the chaos is just fallout from the war. Basically, “Fargo” used a familiar setting and a prequel to expand on its first season and create even more compelling television.

Which is to say, maybe being too different in hopes of distinction is a bad thing, and if “True Detective” season two had been more connected to its parentage, it might not have been criticized for being an unfit sequel.

Comments are permanently closed.