sehope's Blog

Downton Abbey Season 4, Episode 5: Pushing Progress

Julian Fellowes wields his drama for serious reflection on the present-day issues of racism and sexual assault.

This week, Downton Abbey played out some familiar story lines, but the conflict between pomp and circumstance (tradition and reality) played out in a way that moved the story forward - a movement sometimes lacking in the Abbey.

Just when I thought that Fellowes was going to abandon the interracial dating story that he teased earlier in the season, cousin Rose throws the whole household into the deep end.

It is Robert’s birthday, and  Rose has arranged a surprise for him: she has invited a jazz band to perform after dinner. It’s the same band that she, Tom and Mary saw at the club in London.

When the black bandleader, Jack Ross, arrives downstairs, the servants’ collective reaction is somewhere between awed and appalled. However, they are not overtly prejudiced; their surprise is a discomfort with unchartered territory and concern about the social ramifications that may come from Jack Ross’s presence in the Abbey.

The family reacting to the arrival of jazz band leader Jack Ross

Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes’ conversation with Jack about where he’s from and if he’s ever been to Africa highlights the fact that, of all the changes shaking up the way of life these two are used to, they are not opposed to the acceptance of black people into society - even if they still have a complicated relationship with the history of slavery and the realities of integration.

“Mr. Ross, you’ve uncovered something about the past Mr. Carson doesn’t approve of!” Mrs. Hughes quipped. “Well done.”

Slavery was abolished in Britain in 1833, but just like in the United States, the movement for true racial equality did not take off until many years later. At the time of this episode, the Pan Africanist movement was just becoming vocal in opposition to racism and colonization of Africa by European nations.

The Pan African Congress, which began in 1919 and lasted through 1994, was a series of seven meetings of worldwide leaders in the movement to recognize the injustice of European colonization, foster solidarity among displaced African peoples across the world, and call for the decolonization and independence of African nations and peoples. The summer of 1922, when this episode is set, falls right between the second (1921) and third (1923) congresses, both held in London. The Cardiff race riots are still fresh. These are tumultuous times for race relations in Britain, and I’m glad that the conflict is coming to Downton.

I hope they deal with race in as nuanced a way as they have dealt with the subject of rape this season. The series’ first few episodes drew outrage when they aired in Britain in October and among American feminists last month, who excoriated the series for its supposedly gratuitous use of sexual violence to drum up ratings. However, had Jessica Valenti (for whom I have the utmost respect and admiration) actually watched the season, and seen its arc, she might have appreciated the way the show illustrated the effect of sexual assault on women. 

That is especially true for this episode, which contained Anna’s best line of the entire season so far:

“I’m not a victim. That’s not who I am. The worst part is that you see me as a victim.”

Bates’ answer is chivalrous and just a tad dismissive, but still: the writers’ handling of Anna’s pain (not to mention Joanne Froggatt’s disarming acting), coupled with her refusal to let the assault rule her life, are admirable. Would I like her to go to the authorities? Yes. But as I said in my review of that episode, her options were limited in 1922. The authorities may not have been able (or willing) to do anything for her. At the very least, because of the status of women at the time, she would not have believed she had a choice.

In this episode, Bates and Anna plan a nice date at the posh Neverbee hotel, hoping to spend a night away from the emotional struggle they continue to deal with. After a moment of class consternation at the door, they sit down to a classy meal, but neither is unable to escape the weight of the assault. 

Again, just as he did with the Gianni Schicchi aria during the assult, Fellowes uses classical music to convey symbolic meaning. As the couple sits down, the pianist is playing Chopin’s Etude Op. 10 No. 3, commonly known as “Tristesse,” or “sadness.” The piece, which oscillates between a tragic descending melody and a jaunty, hesitant dance of escape, perfectly captures the state of being in which they are both stuck.

The series continued its tackling of the subject of sexual assault in this week’s episode, when Jimmy takes Ivy to a movie, gropes her and accuses her of leading him on. She stands her ground, and later discusses the issue with Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore. The older women validate that Jimmy was out of line, but warn her against playing with people’s feelings (both friends and suitors) without thinking about the consequences.

It is these kinds of complex (okay, mildly complex, but still bold) conversations and subtle handling of the intricacies of this subject matter that keeps me invested in this show, and its potential to use a historical setting to explore the prejudices and ideals of the present.

One last thought this week: moving forward, I hope to see more of Cora. Elizabeth McGovern has so much more potential, and in the past couple of seasons, we haven’t seen much character development for her. There was that time she was pregnant. She used to be a much more vocal advocate of modern values in a tradition-bound household. But recently, she’s just been a sweet go-with-the-flow kind of gal. 

This season has set up a number of opportunities for Cora to grow as a character. Maybe as the racism issue comes to the fore, or as Mary deals with Charles Blake’s evaluation and opposition to their way of life, Cora’s democratic American spirit will re-emerge. Or maybe, as Edith deals with her unexpected and taboo pregnancy, Cora’s will come to her aid as a mother and fellow woman. C’mon, Julian. Let’s get back to that spirit of woman power that I so loved about the season’s pilot.

Taking America’s Pulse: a roundup of the 2014 Super Bowl commercials

A reflection and analysis of the super (and not so super) advertisements aired during America's biggest football game of the year.

What’s so great about Super Bowl commercials, anyway? Why do we care? As a good friend of mine pointed out on Facebook a few hours before the big game: “you guys know that there are commercials on literally every screen and surface of your life, every single day, right?” Touché.

For the past three years, I’ve written a roundup of the best and the worst in the realm of Super Bowl commercials. For many people - especially those who, like me, don’t care much for football - the commercials are more important than the game itself. They are, supposedly, the cream of the crop of advertising genius. It’s a moment in which the cinematic creatives who chose marketing over movies display their talents for an audience of millions.

I’ve been critical of advertising for as long as I can remember, probably since my first eye-opening media literacy lesson in high school global studies: the lesson on Nazi propaganda. Also, as a feminist writer, I can’t help but recognize the ways in which “traditional” and limiting gender roles are reinforced, co-opted, manipulated and regurgitated back at us to tell us what we should want to buy. Whether it’s a woman serving as little more than arm candy to a man driving a fancy car or drinking some fancy (or not-so-fancy) alcohol, or Axe telling men they need to be a certain kind of masculine to “get the girl,” the landscape of Super Bowl advertising has been gender- and sex-focused for almost as long as Super Bowl commercials have been around.

One organization, The Representation Project, has made it their mission to combat problematic representations of gender in the media. Inspired by the outpouring of support for founder Jennifer Siebel Newsom’s film Miss Representation, which premiered at the Sundance Film Festival in 2011, the non-profit seeks to “highlight and challenge the limiting depictions of women in the media and our larger culture,” and to use “film and media content to expose injustices created by gender stereotypes and to shift people’s consciousness towards change.”

The Representation Project’s efforts began largely on Twitter, with the hashtag #NotBuyingIt, debuted in 2012. Users of the hashtag are encouraged to call out sexist media and pledge to boycott the companies that use it - and no time is this hashtag more ubiquitous then during the Super Bowl. 

After more than 10,000 tweets were sent with the hashtag during the 2013 game - most of them about GoDaddy’s shocking Kate Upton makeout ad - the founders launched an Indiegogo campaign to fund an app dedicated to the cause. (Full disclosure: I contributed to the campaign.)

The app was funded and launched just weeks before the 2014 Super Bowl and had been downloaded worldwide over 30,000 times by the end of the game. This year, according to The Representation Project’s communications director Imran Siddiquee, the hashtag was included in over 15,000 tweets, resulting in 2.4 million impressions. 

But how did this year compare to past years? As the game started to wind down (not that it was ever that exciting to begin with), deputy editor of Upworthy Rebecca Eisenberg tweeted exactly what I had been thinking the whole game, but was too afraid to say, for fear of jinxing it.

Indeed, this year, there were surprisingly few sexist commercials. Even the medium’s most egregious transgressor GoDaddy went a different route, hyping a spot in which a young mechanical engineer named Gwen quit her job to pursue a career making puppets, with the help of her GoDaddy-hosted website, PuppetsByGwen.com.

That’s some effective advertising! If not for their past sins, I might even consider them as a hosting service. Maybe.

Some animal rights activists and #NotBuyingIt tweeters took issue with the Chevy Silverado commercial featuring “sexy cows.” Many called out the car manufacturer for its promotion of force impregnation of animals, and the implied “breeding” forced on human women.

However, I have to disagree. In fact, I think the ad in a way flipped our expectation of these manly, studly Chevy commercials on its head, imposing the idea of attraction and romance on animals in a way that was, in fact, quite funny. And Chevy’s later ad, co-sponsored by the American Cancer Society, was incredibly moving and tasteful.

Critics were correct, though, in their outcry against the Turbo Tax “Love Hurts,” spot, in which a young man hopes to “take back” his crush by impressing her with his hefty tax return. This implies all manner of nasty things, from women-as-property, to women being bought, to women-as-golddiggers. 

Perhaps (at least, we hope) because of the overwhelming outpouring of support for #NotBuyingIt and The Representation Project, two ads this year directly challenged the critique that advertising sidelines women and girls.

Early in the night Maserati aired a long, 90-second ad featuring the indomitable Quvenzhané Wallis (Beasts of the Southern Wild) on a worldwide adventure, reciting a manifesto about power, cleverness, and overcoming adversity.

“We knew that being clever was more important than being the biggest kid in the neighborhood.”*

Sure, she’s touting the power of a very expensive car company working to compete with other, more influential manufacturers. But to hear a young black woman give such an empowering speech was moving enough to make this one of my favorite spots of the night.

Another favorite of mine was, of course, this girl power fest GoldieBlox commercial (sponsored by Intuit, which redeemed itself in the wave of that terrible Turbo Tax prom ad).

GoldieBlox is “a toy company on a mission to inspire the next generation of female engineers.” They won a contest to have their ad aired, and boy am I glad they did.

In lieu of an overarching sexist theme this year, many advertisers went for nostalgia, spoke to our meme-saturated internet culture, or to the so-called restlessness of the millenial generation. In certain markets, the Church of Scientology tried to appeal to a similar restlessness by wedding science and religion.

Other ads went for patriotism. Bob Dylan made an appearance in a controversial Chrysler ad, where he pushed all of our “made in America,” Detroit-nostalgia buttons, but ended on a curiously uninformed note.

“Let Germany brew your beer. Let Switzerland make your watch. Let Asia assemble your phone. We will build your car.”

Spoiler alert: the majority shareholder in the Chrysler company is Fiat, an Italian company! Oops. Not so American after all, I guess. 

Also, “let Asia assemble your phone”? Factories in Asia that assemble phones are largely controlled - and its workers are often exploited - by American parent companies. Quite a confusing assertion to make, Mr. Dylan. And that doesn’t even take into account the fact that Dylan, the king of the anti-establishment, is promoting the corporate car manufacturer.

No doubt the winner for most controversial ad goes to Coca-Cola. Their “It’s Beautiful” ad featured “America the Beautiful” sung in myriad languages against a background of numerous scenes of diversity and life in the United States.

An aesthetic masterpiece, which made a bold statement about the value of diversity in America, drew outrage across the Twittersphere. Though I won’t dignify any bigots by embedding their tweets here, you can check out the hashtags #fuckcoke or #boycottcoke if you’re looking to be depressed by the horrific, shameless racism that pervades in our country.

These are just a few highlights of what advertisers had to offer on Sunday night. I know, I’ve left out quite a few good ones. But honestly, I found most commercials this year to be pretty generic - even boring. I’m certain none will stick in my mind after a week or two. Maybe my cynical friend was right: Super Bowl commercials are just commercials - just slightly more creative attempts by marketers to get us to buy their stuff. And it will all happen again next year. 

All we can hope for is even less sexism, less racist reactions, and (as always) more adorable Budweiser animals.

Other random favorites:

Dancing Ellen (Beats Music and AT&T)

Axe PEACE Make Love Not War

Seinfeld Reunion

Full House Reunion (Oikos yogurt)

A touching look at assistive technology (Microsoft)

Society for New Music presents “The Now Generation”

Young classical composers bring their new and contemporary works to the Everson Museum of Art.

Sunday at the Everson Museum’s Hosmer Auditorium, the Society for New Music presented an afternoon of evocative contemporary art music from young up-and-coming composers of “The Now Generation.”

The program, attended by a sparse but attentive crowd of about fifty, was the first of the new year for the Society for New Music, an organization founded in 1971 to commission new works, advocate for new music and its creators, feature regional and guest composers, and provide opportunities for musicians in central New York. 

The afternoon began with two pieces by Princeton Ph.D. candidate Andy Akiho, an award-winning steel pannist, percussionist and composer. The pieces, “Daidai Iro (Orange)” (2004) and “Murasaki (Purple)” (2006) were excerpts from Akiho’s Synesthesia Suite, a set of 14 short pieces that represent the composer’s perception of color and sound.

 Akiho, a soft spoken, slight figure with a refined touch on the steel pan, stood up in between the performances to discuss the concept of synesthesia. Synesthesia is defined by the Merriam-Webster online dictionary as “a concomitant sensation; especially : a subjective sensation or image of a sense (as of color) other than the one (as of sound) being stimulated.” The first piece, “Daidai Iro (Orange)” was a lively, bright romp that Akiho described as a “palate cleanser” to begin the program. He said it was, “for Syracuse - go Syracuse!” but lamented that it “should be a livelier piece if it is called that in these parts.”

The second piece, “Murasaki (Purple)” was a soft, glowing work with a slow build to a shimmering color. One might imagine walking through a city park on a grayish purple day, with dandelion seeds floating through the air, or (by virtue of the calypso element of the steel pan) an underwater exploration through a coral reef. Akiho’s steel pan playing is smooth and effortless, adding to the flowing quality of his compositions.

Both pieces were scored for steel pan, cello and marimba, though Akiho said he has worked with a variety of instrumentation for the suite. Though the trio’s communication broke down at a few rhythmically challenging moments, Akiho is a master of the melodic capabilities of percussion and the percussive capabilities of melodic instruments. Between these three (Jennifer Vaughn on cello, Mike Compitello on marimba and Akiho on steel pan), the effect was mesmerizing.

Next on the program was a piece by Syracuse native Robert Honstein, titled Patter (2010). Honstein is a graduate of Yale School of Music, winner of numerous awards, and co-founder of Fast Forward Austin, an annual contemporary music and arts festival in Texas. 

Patter is described by the composer as such:

“PATTER, 2010, is a quick succession of light soft tapping sounds: the patter of rain on the rooftops. To move with light, softly audible steps: the patter of little feet around the house. A conversation heard faintly, through the door or the floor: the patter of sisters, friends or neighbors speaking quietly.”

Indeed, Patter’s central theme was a conversation that moved seamlessly between the trio of marimba, violin and cello. Sometimes the voice worked together, sometimes in a pulsing counterpoint, but throughout, the musicians (Vaughn on cello, Compitello on marimba, Blagomira Lipari on violin) were tight and focused, moving from the ambient repetitive music of rain through to a buoyant colloquy.

The third movement of the afternoon was Juan Pablo Contreras’ four-movement programmatic piece Silencio en Juarez for violin, clarinet, cello and piano, performed by Blagomira Lipari, John Friedrichs, Jennifer Vaughn and Sar Shalom Strong. 

Contreras, who was unable to attend the performance due to a family illness, is a 26-year-old Mexican avant-garde composer. In 2013 he received both the William Schuman Award in the BMI Awards and the Society for New Music’s Israel Prize for the Silencio en Juarez. In 2014, he was awarded the a FONCA (NEA) Young Artist Fellowship by the Mexican government.

Contreras’ composition was by far the most unsettling of the program. Depicting the aftermath and context of a November 2010 murder of 15 teenagers in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, Silencio en Juarez juxtaposes moments of intense grief with explosive depictions of people and a city in peril.

The first movement, “Madre Dolorosa,” is written from the perspective of a mother of one of the teenagers. Bach’s “Holy Cross motif” (A, G, Bb, F#) is transposed and woven throughout a tapestry of sound. 

The uncomfortable second movement, “Corrido,” is an ironic setting of a popular Mexican folk genre similar to the Polka. The movement depicts the memories of a witness of the incident, alternating in a fine satire between a jolly folk dance and moments of anguish, evidenced by a intruding dissonance and a rhythmic gunfire motif. 

A true “Liturgia,” the third movement of Silencio en Juarez brings us to the funeral service, where we hear a procession of hollow yet deeply sorrowful eulogies from the clarinet, the violin and the cello. As the church bells toll on the piano to close the movement, the eulogies hang in the air, echoing Contreras’ program notes: 

“We are so used to hearing these stories that we often overlook the fact that people being murdered leave a devastated family behind, one that has to cope with their unjust death for the rest of their lives.”

The final movement represents the harsh chaos and injustice of the drug wars - aptly titled, “La Injusticia.” With its quick transitions and the return of the “Holy Cross motif,” Contreras concludes this work with a desperate bitterness. 

“[T]hese assassins justify their atrocities with religious devotion in hopes of receiving divine forgiveness. However, if murders continue, there will be nothing left but Silence in Juarez.”

Penultimate in Sunday’s program was another piece by Andy Akiho, LigNEouS: a technically exciting and intensely virtuosic piece that Akiho says was inspired by Greek-French avant-garde composer Iannis Xenakis. Prior to hearing Xenakis’ string quartets, Akiho says he was unaware of just what kinds of percussive sounds were possible on non-percussion instruments. With the help of his string quartet (Vaughn on cello, Lipari and Ann McIntyre on violin and Cassandra Sulbarán on viola) he demonstrated the scratch tone - “like a door trying to open” - and the Bartók pizzicato, a severe pluck of the strings that was mimicked on the marimba (played again by Compitello) by strapping a rubber band around the low D bar.

LigNEouS was a complex and electrifying piece, full of rhythmic and harmonic textures rather than discernable melodies. Similar to Honstein’s Patter, the strings and the marimba passed lines back and forth, weaving and stretching a mesmerizing edifice of sound and rhythm. 

The musicians seemed to be having a great time with this piece; Jennifer Vaughn in particular was spirited and smiling as she moved her cello’s alto voice in and out of the conversation. Mike Compitello shined, showcasing the virtuosity of Akiho’s composition and swinging his whole body across the marimba as he played.

The 90 minute program concluded with a quarter-century-old piece by Stephen Ferre, who was in attendance to conduct his work. Ferre is an internationally renowned composer, arranger, music engraver, educator and brass performer on trombone and euphonium, and is a member of the faculty at Syracuse University.

Originally composed for chamber orchestra, Paradiso is the third part in Ferre’s 3 Pieces for Chamber Orchestra (1989) based on Dante’s Divine Comedy. At the request of Society for New Music founder Neva Pilgrim, Ferre rearranged it for clarinet, percussion, steel pan, piano and string quartet in 2013.

A man of few words, Ferre advised the audience to listen for the clarinet as guide, representing Dante’s Beatrice. “Everything else,” he concluded, “is in the notes.”

Indeed, there was a great deal in those notes. Ferre’s paradise, like Dante’s, is a complex realm, not the beaming land of light sometimes imagined in other constructions. Elements of that lightness appear occasionally in the song of the clarinet and the cello, as well as in the shimmering of the steel pan and the marimba. Like most piece of art based on Dante’s poem, Ferre’s work requires a second look to explore all of its intricacies.

Sunday’s concert left me with high hopes for the future of classical music. I am no Pollyanna on this issue - the financial problems and decline in audience appeal facing the classical world are real. The landscape has changed, and we must adapt. But if the Society for New Music’s selections are an accurate depiction of the future of contemporary classical music, then I advise all pragmatists to take a break from pessimism. “The Now Generation” may just remind you why it’s worth the trouble.

Downton Abbey Season 4, Episode 4: Honest Evolution

Anna confesses her dark secret to Mr. Bates amidst an increasingly changing Downton estate.

 

This week’s episode of Downton Abbey was filled with a series of unexpected (and somewhat expected) reactions and subtle twists. And, of course, we continue to plod along with the series’ running theme, as Mary so aptly articulates: “The world moves on and we must move with it.”

When a long-time Downton tenant, Mr. Drew, dies, leaving behind a sizable delinquency in payments, Mary and Tom want to foreclose the property and farm the land themselves. With an eye ever-trained on the sustainability of the estate, the two young family members work to convince Robert that this is the best plan from a business perspective. 

However, Mr. Drew’s son approaches Robert personally and invokes the idea that the relationship between the Crawleys and their tenants is a partnership. He wants to continue to farm, and to sustain the partnership, but cannot pay off the debt in full. Robert, in what Mary later terms an act of great decency, agrees to keep the family on and lend Mr. Drew’s son the money to cover the debt.

This act and the compromise it represents are demonstrative of just how far Robert has come in recent seasons. Formerly a stickler for the old rules of society and the no-holds-barred preserving of aristocratic tradition, Robert has softened a bit in his personal relation to members of other classes. Most of all, we have Tom Branson’s presence to thank for this growth. Before Tom, Robert would never have considered the possibility that someone from a lower class could understand the complexities of estate management - let alone an Irishman. He may still disapprove of Tom’s socialist roots, but his eyes have been opened.

We can also thank Matthew and Isobel for their role in Robert’s progress. They, too, came from a lower, working class background into his stuffy aristocratic world - though, by virtue of their relation to the Crawleys, they’re not as working-class as Tom. Being around Isobel with her noble commitment to the common man is no doubt thought-provoking for Robert - even if it was the object of the Dowager’s signature ridicule in this episode.

I’m glad to see him softening his resistance, especially if Tom leaves for the United States. Tom, who has always felt out-of-place in the Downton household, is considering starting over in America with baby Sybil. In that case, Robert and Mary will face the challenge of both saying goodbye to Sybil’s namesake, and being co-managers of the estate. Tom and Mary have alternately been a buffer between one another and Robert, so without Tom, the dynamic could change considerably. We will see just how far to the left Robert will go when he has to argue with his daughter over matters that he thinks she isn’t smart enough to discuss.

Then again, now that Evelyn Napier is back in the picture, Mary’s position is foggy. With Napier’s shady “government project” underway, and given all that Mr. Pamuk business, I can’t imagine that this is a romantic visit on his part. There seems to be something sinister about the way Napier is so cool-headed in the face of Mary’s enthusiasm for his advice. Let’s not conflate love and business here, Lady Mary. The results could be dangerous.

Robert’s patience and understanding will also be needed if Edith turns out to be pregnant. Edith spent a night with Michael Gregson before he left for Germany, and in this week’s episode she covertly visited a doctor in London. If I’m not mistaken, it’s the same doctor Matthew and Mary visited when they were having fertility problems. So what happens if Edith is pregnant, out-of-wedlock, by a married man she hasn’t heard from since he left for Germany to go become a citizen and divorce his wife for her? Why, what Downton does best, of course: drama.

Downstairs, Anna’s story developed further this week. She knows there is no baby; we are left to wonder how she found out, but probably the same way every woman finds out she’s not pregnant every month.

Then Mr. Bates overhears Mrs. Hughes imploring Anna to tell him the truth. In the privacy of her office, he demands that Mrs. Hughes tell him what’s going on, or he will resign. 

Mrs. Hughes says that she thinks the pain of losing him would finish Anna, and tells him the truth of what happened. However, she leaves out the identity of the perpetrator, and for good reason.

When Bates tells Anna he knows, he hints at vengeance.

“If it was the valet, he’s a dead man.”

Otherwise, the exchange between the loving couple is sweet, but overly chivalrous. When Anna sobs again that she is shamed and spoiled, Bates’ response is puzzling.

“You are not spoiled. You are made higher to me, and holier because of the suffering you’ve been put through. You’re my wife and I have never been prouder nor loved you more than I love you now at this moment.”

The idea that being raped (notice, we still haven’t actually heard the word rape) makes one holier is a challenging pill to swallow. I understand that he means to put her at ease, to counter her conviction that she is somehow unclean. But framing the act as anything other than a painful, experience for the victim does not solve any problems.

However, I can forgive the confusing suggestion because Bates - quiet, hardened, country boy Bates - is so darn poetic in that moment. Their love is palpable, and it is a relief that he finally knows. I only hope he won’t handle it in the way Anna fears.

.

Also downstairs, the ladies of the kitchen train Albert for his exam in at the Ritz Carlton in London. He has a natural talent as a cook, but barely misses the cut for the culinary program he aspires to. I imagine he will continue to practice and hone his skill, and maybe try again, especially since he has Mr. Carson’s support. Outside the kitchen, Carson comforts a dejected Alfred with a rare moment of straightforward praise.

“I reckon you work hard and you deserve to succeed.”

Mr. Carson is evolving and adjusting to the new century, too - I dare say even faster than the rest of them.

Other signs of the time in this episode include an electric sewing machine (brought by Baxter, Cora’s new lady’s maid) and a refrigerator, which Cora works hard to convince Mrs. Patmore to adopt, leading to one of the episode’s most chuckle-worthy quotes: when Cora asks “is there any aspect of the present day that you can accept without resistance?”, Mrs. Patmore responds in a whisper.

“Oh, my lady. I wouldn’t mind getting rid of me corset.”

If that’s not a mantra for Downton these days, I don’t know what is.

True Detective Season 1, Episode 3: Losing My Religion

Detectives Cohle and Hart's investigation leads them into darker territory while the show's writing dives into the existential complexities of religion and identity.

Continuing its virtuosic blend of character study and plot development, the third episode of True Detective, titled “The Locked Room,” is the series’ most riveting yet.

Episode two left us wondering what happened at the revival church in the middle of nowhere, where Cohle and Hart found a torched shell of a building with grotesque graffiti, mirroring the gruesome scene that opened the season. Further investigation led them to the tent revival of Minister Joel Thierot (Shea Whigham). The detectives gather some more information from two young women who saw her around the revival, who say she was seen speaking with a “tall man” who had a strange face, with “skin shiny around his jaw.” Hart deduces that they are seeking a man with burn scars. After Rust spends many insomnia-fueled nights digging through old murder files, they begin to interrogate suspects.

After a few dead ends, another “you gents better figure this out soon” talk with the boss, and some more time spent pounding the pavement, the detectives come across their most promising lead yet: Reggie Ledoux. Reggie’s girlfriend was supposedly killed in the flooding that followed Hurricane Andrew, but photos of her body tell Cohle otherwise - especially that mysterious spiral symbol on her back. 

Sure enough, Ledoux has skipped parole after serving time for his involvement with a drug lab that produced meth and LSD - drugs that both victims had in their systems at the time of death. Ledoux is also a sex criminal and was cellmates with Dora Lange’s husband. When the episode concludes, we are left with an eerie image of the “monster at the end of it”: a man leaving a rural shack in nothing but tighty-whities (or, is that a mankini of some kind?) and a gas mask, carrying a meat cleaver. Monster indeed.

We have seen more of Cohle’s dark side in the series so far, but in this episode both men’s manipulative characteristics are evenly matched. 

Hart’s slow burning violence, which we saw erupt briefly in his conversation with Cohle in the locker room, ignites like a roman candle in this episode. While out on a double date at a bar, Hart spots his mistress Lisa with another man. He confronts her in a stupidly open way at the bar, and Lisa makes it clear (twice now that we’ve seen, and no doubt in other situations as well) that she is looking to settle down and Hart is not the man she wants to do it with. 

After a roaring bender, Hart ends up at Lisa’s apartment late at night and proceeds to violently assault her date. Then, as quickly as his fuse was ignited, it is extinguished. Claiming “I’m not a psycho,” Hart simply walks away. 

At home, while trying to justify his distance from his wife and his children, one of whom is has been making disturbingly sexual drawings at school, he breaks down and claims “I’m all fucked up.”

I’m having a hard time discerning Hart’s motivations. Is he honestly concerned with his own alcoholism, violence and double life? Or is he simply manipulating Maggie (consciously or unconsciously) into staying with him while he continues to violate her trust? I speculate that there is a piece of Hart’s past or psyche we still have yet to see - the reason for his “fucked up” behavior.

I can’t help but wonder about the violently sexual imagery we’ve seen from his daughter in her drawings, her conversations with her sister, and that gang rape scene that she staged with her dolls. Could Hart have something to do with that? Is it just her accidental proximity to the nature of his work? Or something worse?

The mystery of Rust Cohle deepened in this episode, when we were given a window into his dark existential convictions. Through another series of long, infinitely intelligent, captivating monologues during his 2012 on-camera interviews with detectives Gilbough and Papania, we see Cohle’s strong, uncompromising opposition to religious belief. No review summary of mine could do justice to Pizzolatto’s ingenious writing or McConaughey’s delivery, so I invite you to go seek them out yourself for the full mind-bending experience.

Caught up in a whirlwind of philosophical thoughts on humanity, death, parenting and good vs. evil, I’m left wondering if any other television show in recent memory has spoken so soberly and articulately about the foundations of atheism or existentialism. 

There have been plenty of shows with religious themes (7th Heaven, Joan of Arcadia, Big Love) and even more that have explored themes of religion and spirituality (Lost, House, Supernatural, South Park). And sure, there have been plenty of atheist characters on great television shows; some of my favorites include Captain Malcolm Reynolds from Firefly, Lindsay Weir from Freaks & Geeks and, currently, Alicia Florrick from The Good Wife


There is plenty to be said both for and against such a vehement atheism, and for and against organized religion’s effect on the human experience. It’s a complex issue, but one that I’m fairly certain has not been explored with such implications in a story about death and human nature - at least not on television. Writers have floored us with their controversial speeches before - of course Aaron Sorkin comes to mind - but Pizzolatto’s has an exceptional knack for cerebral storytelling. Each new episode of this show has felt like a great shot of bourbon whiskey: it takes concentration to swallow and burns a little going down, but has a sharply sweet aftertaste, leaving me feeling a little bit tipsy and longing for more.

 

True Detective Season 1, Episode 2: Good Cop, Bad Cop.

As the investigation into Dora Lange's ritualistic murder continues, detectives Cohle and Hart's true colors begin to reveal themselves.

In its second episode, True Detective continued to show its philosophical roots and showcase its writer’s talent for characterization.

Effective and engaging character study is not an easy feat to pull off. Constant exposition and personal narrative can make a show feel stagnant. We want action! Adventure! Escape!

But in the realm of truly stimulating character exploration, Nic Pizzolatto succeeds. Large chunks of True Detective’s’ second hour were composed of single take monologues that pulled us deep down under the skin and into the minds of the show’s two main characters. If the pilot was somewhat bewilderingly dark, then the second episode pulled us even further down the rabbit hole, fleshing out many of the quirks and neuroses that define its protagonists.

We learned that Hart, who we heretofore believed to be a pretty straight-ahead family man (especially compared to Cohle’s atheist loner persona), cheats on his wife “for the good of the family.” Infidelity, for Hart, is “for your wife and kids, too.”

“You’ve got to take your release where you find it - or where it finds you.”

Yuck. I walked away from this episode finding Hart quite a selfish schmuck. His contemptible nature comes across most in his fight with his wife, Maggie, toward the end of the episode. She expresses unhappiness, something not all too surprising coming from a mother of two and wife to a homicide detective. Hart responds by accusing her of having “a penchant for self-pity” and says he needs her “to be strong, so that I can do my job.” Of course, it’s fine to have needs. But who’s the one cheating here? Of course, we don’t know much about Maggie yet.

Far more unusual is Cohle’s history, which we discover through a series of bucolic yet soul-crushing monologues, brilliantly enacted by the remarkable powerhouse that is Matthew McConaughey. Set against the imagery of Hart’s quintessential but flawed family life, Cohle’s singularity of focus - as twisted as his history is - seems almost preferable.

In the pilot, we learned that Cohle’s daughter died. This week we delved deeper into that story, through a drifting three minute monologue in which Cohle recounts the details of his life leading up to his work on the Dora Lange case.

His daughter was hit by a car while riding her tricycle. The heartbreak destroyed his marriage and gave him an inclination toward danger. He came to his first wall when he “emptied a nine into a crankhead for injecting his infant daughter with crystal.”

“He was trying to purify her.”

He kept his job by becoming an undercover drug informant - a position he kept for four years. During that time, he became addicted to drugs. He continued to deal with what he called “chemical flashbacks” well into his work with Hart, but said that sometimes he felt he was “mainlining the secret truth of the universe.” His instincts certainly have helped the pair several times already in working the Dora Lange case.

In February 1993, Cohle killed three cartel members and was committed at North Shore Psychiatric Hospital for four months, after which he asked to be placed on a homicide case. He was partnered with Hart in Louisiana.

Of course, in any crime drama, our view of the characters colors our understanding of their handling of the case. But if Pizzolatto decided to make this short series 90% about the protagonists’ psyches and 10% about the case itself, I’d be one happy viewer. So far, watching True Detective has been more like reading a novel than watching a crime drama.

Novelistic television programming has existed for over a decade. Along with True Detective, I’m concurrently watching The Sopranos for the first time. David Chase’s landmark series is arguably one of the greatest novelistic shows in television history. While I’m thoroughly enjoying the character development of Tony and Carmella especially, as far as I can tell, Chase did not drill as deep or as forcefully into the true nature of his characters as Pizzolatto has already.

Maybe it’s because Chase knew he had more than eight episodes to play with, and Pizzolatto just has to move faster in the character development process to give us a real understanding before we say goodbye to these characters in just six more weeks.

Or maybe it’s because, as I said in the pilot review, Pizzolatto is a literary guy first and foremost. Nothing tells more about a character than anonymously observing their honest words and especially their internal monologue. True Detective relies almost exclusively on inner monologue and recollection narrative, which allows for a depth of character that I personally have not seen in another show.

True Detective’s greatest strength so far is the compelling way in which it weaves psychology with philosophy, tying in religion and all manner of sin, yet doesn’t definitively answer any of its own questions. Remember - we don’t even really know what these on-camera interviews are for. Hart alluded this week to a “throwdown in the woods” and speculated that the interviewers were “on to something new.”

As the series continues to evolve, I’m looking forward to finding answers to those questions, to descending deeper into the dark underbellies of these characters and their motives, and to discovering the reason behind the show’s cryptic tagline: exactly how is man the cruelest animal?

Downton Abbey Season 4 Episode 3: Two kinds of rape, and the morality of moving on

As Anna and Tom Branson try to recover from their respective ordeals, a suitor arrives at Downton for Lady Mary's hand.

This week at Downton, upstairs we found the Crawley family recovering from their busy weekend of entertaining and moving back into the mundane reality of dealing with the estate’s affairs. And downstairs, harsh realities abound for some, and new opportunities for others.

Perhaps the most consequential new development was Lord Gillingham’s proposal to Lady Mary. Caught up in the fervent throes of residual childhood ardor, Gillingham breathlessly professes his love for the beautiful Crawley homewrecker - er, heiress.

I mean, really - first Lavinia Swire, now poor Miss Mabel Lane Fox. We don’t even need to meet Gillingham’s almost-bride-to-be to know the pain Mary’s inexorable charms will cause her. No pretty strawberry blonde hair, this time. No doe eyes. Miss Fox exists in the abstract only to remind us how irresistible our dear Lady Mary can be.

And as strange as this might sound, I was happy to see Mary reject him.

As I’ve said already, I want Mary to thrive on her own. I want her to take the reins of the estate, seated next to fellow widower Tom Branson, and never look back. This choice was for her, and her alone. Gillingham references the system in which they are both caught up, and true, all aristocratic sense should have driven Mary to accept. But she is not ready to let go of Matthew’s memory. As “refreshed” as she says she feels by Gillingham’s interest, it’s not the right time.

Another character refreshed by love is Mr. Carson. At the conclusion of episode 2, he learned that the woman he had once loved, Alice, loved him too. Though Alice is dead now, Mrs. Hughes notices that the simple knowledge that his affections were shared has changed Mr. Carson. He is happier and a bit more open. I’m still hesitant to hope that someday Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson might find love within each other, because their platonic family love is beautiful enough as it is. The warm fuzzies were pretty overwhelming when she gave him a framed photo of Alice to keep on his desk.

Many of the show’s other characters, however, are not so fortunate. Daisy’s attempt to steal Alfred’s affection from Ivy backfires when Alfred begins preparation for an exam that would take him away to London. Lady Edith spends a night with Michael Gregson, only to be caught sneaking into Aunt Rosamund’s house and warned against giving herself up in a gamble for love. And of course, there’s Anna.

At the end of last week’s episode, I wondered how Downton Abbey was going to deal with the concept of rape, or if it would be dealt with at all. I was hopeful that Anna’s rape would not be brushed under the rug as just another melodramatic Downton tragedy, but that Fellowes would explore some contemporary debates about sexual assault in the context of the period.

The verdict is still out on exactly what the show and its characters have to say about the injustice of rape, but this week’s episode alluded to an interesting parallelism - even if it failed to name it outright.

The same night that Anna was raped, Edna slipped Tom Branson a tall glass of whiskey and then slipped into his bed. This, too, is rape. By the standard definition of consent, Tom would have been unable to consent in his inebriated state. It is telling of gender roles of the time - and, to some extent, of today - how the involved characters deal with these different cases of sexual assault.

Anna was violently raped, but the word “rape” was never mentioned. Everyone saw the cuts on her face. Everyone noticed that she was acting strangely. But even Mrs. Hughes, the only person who knows precisely what happened, only referred loosely to the attack and the “evil, violent man” who did it.

How could no one else even suspect that she had been assaulted? If not sexually, then clearly physically? With the collective silence around her, Anna is forced to deal with the trauma alone. In what was certainly the most heartbreaking line of the entire episode, she expressed - of all things - guilt.

“I’m not good enough for him [Mr. Bates], not now. I think that somehow I must have made it happen.”

She spoke of being “soiled,” unworthy. Yet, she still refuses to go to the police. If she is pregnant, she said she will kill herself. The dialogue and cinematography did not pause to dwell on this poignant statement, as shows like this often do to highlight important narrative moments. But what could be more agonizing or telling of Anna’s feelings of loss and the options she feels she has than her statement: “I’ll kill myself”?

Contrary to Anna’s situation, in which she is separated from and lives in fear of her rapist, Tom had the opportunity to confront Edna.

When Tom expressed regret at his flawed decision making, Edna pounced, threatening to sully his reputation if she ends up pregnant and he does not support her and the child. As later became clear in her conversation with sly Mr. Barrow, Edna hopes to blackmail Tom into lifting her up into high society, just as Sybil did for him.

Tom was full of regret. Though lacking Anna’s physical scars, he walked around in a daze just as she did and several people noticed his odd behavior, just as they noticed Anna’s. Just as Mrs. Hughes encouraged Anna to speak to the police, Mary encouraged Tom to find someone he could open up to. He told Mrs. Hughes, who uncovered Edna’s secret and fired her.

Unlike Anna, Tom had the power to do something about his rape. Unlike Anna’s, Tom’s rape story is most likely over. Tom, as a man, was not raised to feel powerless over his sexuality. He was not raised to even consider the option of being raped: to this day, rape in the U.K. is a crime that only men can legally commit. In the 1920s, the concept of male rape would have almost certainly never even been considered by these characters. Instead, Tom dealt with his “regret” by exerting his power. Anna’s story will continue until someone reaches out to help her. Even then, it will affect her forever.

I am not asserting that Tom’s exercise of power over Edna was uncalled-for or in poor taste. Surely, Edna deserved to be fired (again). But it is interesting to consider the different ways these two characters are forced - by convention and gender roles that are, to a large extent, still prevalent today - to deal with rape.

Moving forward I hope that someone (anyone) presses Anna to report Mr. Green. Mrs. Hughes’ respect for Anna’s wishes by deflecting Mr. Bates’ questions cannot last forever. Also, Mr. Bates will not quietly let his marriage fail, nor will he let Anna continue to suffer in silence. As painful as it will be to watch, I believe he will grow desperate and pressure her until she cracks.

Then comes the problem of retribution. When Mrs. Hughes says it is breaking Mr. Bates’ heart not knowing what’s wrong, Anna responds, “better a broken heart than a broken neck.”

But is it?

Downton Abbey Season 4, Episode 2: Downton Grows Dark

As the current season begins to unfold, grave subject matter strikes at the heart of Downton.

What could be more surprising than Matthew Crawley’s death? How about the rape of one of the show’s most beloved and dynamic characters?

In a move no one expected - at least not so soon - Fellowes has again thrown a flaming wrench through the middle of one of the Abbey’s most enchanting love stories.

Sunday night around 10:00 pm, while watching and live-tweeting the Golden Globes, I saw this tweet from tv.com:

Anna cannot be dead, I thought. That would be the worst.

I was wrong.

It’s springtime at Downton and the family is revisiting the estate’s glory days by hosting a party. There are 16 guests staying at the house for several days of socializing and a much-anticipated performance by Australian singer Dame Nellie Melba (played by kiwi soprano Kiri Te Kanawa).

Upstairs, Robert and the other men of the party retreated often into a smoke-filled room to congratulate each other on being masters of the universe (ten points for that reference, go!) and play poker. One guest, Samson, won repeatedly, presumably by cheating.

Edith tried earnestly to facilitate a bond between her father and her soon-to-be fiance, Michael Gregson. Though Robert rebuffed these attempted conversations at first, he eventually came to accept Gregson when he recouped and redistributed the earnings lost by each the night before. I’m not sure if this shows that Gregson is an egalitarian, respectful arbiter of the people, but if it does, I hope he retains that characteristic when he moves to Germany. Alternately, maybe his generosity was merely self-serving, a strategic move to win Robert’s favor. How will that quality translate into German society during the rise of the Nazi party?

Anthony Foyle, Lord Gillingham, a childhood friend of Mary’s, was also in town. Though engaged to a prominent member of British aristocratic society, he was flirtatious but respectful of Mary’s recent loss, acknowledging that it takes time to rebound from such a tragedy.

“How lucky you are. You’ve known a great love. Doesn’t that enrich any life?”

Though Mary has had six months of mourning since Matthew’s death, we the viewers have only had a few episodes to get used to life at Downton without him. Are we ready for Mary to find a new love?

“Sometimes I don’t know who I’m most in mourning for: Matthew or the person I used to be when I was with him.”

Who is the person Mary feels that she has lost? Can Mary be the lively, bright gem that she was when Matthew was around - without him? It will be interesting to see if Fellowes asserts that Mary can only be vibrant - be herself - when she is romantically involved. I would much rather see Mary and Tom’s bond grow (platonically, of course) through their love of the estate.

As the Downton guests mingled above, the mood downstairs was frantic. Amid the chaos, Lord Gillingham’s valet, Mr. Green, introduced the house staff to a spirited card game and struck up a flirtatious friendship with Anna. Mr. Bates voiced concern, which Anna took as harmless jealousy. Minutes later they were back to their sweet, effortless romance, with no lasting resentment. Their relationship is impenetrable. Nothing can tear these soulmates apart, right?

During Dame Nellie’s performance, when Anna slipped downstairs to treat a headache, Mr. Green followed her. As the rest of the house sat captivated as Dame Nellie sang Puccini’s “O mio babbino caro” - an aria about being torn from one’s true love - Green cornered Anna and brutally assaulted and raped her. When Mrs. Hughes found her, bruised and distraught, she frantically made Mrs. Hughes promise not to tell anyone - especially Mr. Bates. Bates, she feared, would kill the man and be hanged for it.

The aria that underscored this scene may be telling of where this storyline is going. In Puccini’s Gianni Schicchi, the aria is sung by Schicchi’s daughter Lauretta, as she begs her father to find a way to provide a dowry, so that she may marry the wealthy Rinuccio. She laments that if she cannot be with her love, she would rather die. Are the writers of Downton Abbey foreshadowing Anna’s death? The death of Anna’s and Bates’ love? I hope not. The opera has a happy ending: Schicchi outwits Rinuccio’s patronizing family and secures the fortune of its dead patriarch for himself. Lauretta and Rinuccio live happily ever after. We can only hope that Mr. Green’s invidious treatment of Anna will be rightly punished, and Anna will recover with Bates at her side.

I’m interested to see how Fellowes deals with the issue of rape in the early 20th century. All of his female characters have a feminist streak in them, and should any one of the women (or men) of the house find out about Anna’s rape, they will surely pursue justice. But what obstacles will they face?

English common law has long provided harsh punishment for rapists. Initially, rape was an offense punishable by death. By the post-Edwardian era of Downton Abbey, that law had been replaced by section 48 of the Offences Against the Person Act of 1861, which punished rapists with no less than three years of penal servitude (manual labor) or no more than two years’ imprisonment. This hardly seems a suitable punishment for such a violent crime, but the maximum sentence was not extended to life in prison until 1948.

At this point, Anna clearly does not plan to report her rape. Indeed, to this day most rapes go unreported. The 2006-2007 British Crime Survey found that, while 1 in 200 women said that they were raped in the last year, less than 1 in 100 reported rapes led to conviction. It is only reasonable that, in an earlier era, when women were considered even more inferior than they are in most western societies today, even fewer rapes were reported, and almost none led to conviction. The prospect of justice for Anna’s rape looks sadly remote.

Whether or not legal justice is served, the question remains as to if, when and how Mr. Bates will find out, and what he will do. Anna seems certain he will kill her rapist, and I wouldn’t put it past him. But what does that mean for their happy ending? Is there ever such thing as a happy ending when rape is involved?

True Detective - a talented team composes a distinctive drama

HBO provides a new, star-studded and literary twist to the crime procedural genre.

True Detective, a new addition to HBO’s Sunday night lineup, is unexpectedly ponderous yet sharply assembled, showcasing the formidable acting chops of its stars, Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaughey.

            When the pilot, titled “The Long Bright Dark,” begins, the year is 2012. We are introduced to (former?) Louisiana detectives Martin Hart (Harrelson) and Rust Cohle (McConaughey), who are each being interviewed on camera about a ritual murder they investigated together in 1995. We learn that they had a falling out ten years ago, and have not spoken since.

            Flashbacks return us to the murder scene, where a young blonde woman has been murdered and bound naked to a tree in a prayer position, with antlers tied to her head. Cohle, studying the body and drawing on knowledge presumably gleaned from the volumes of literature about psychology and murder we later see in his sparse apartment, concludes that this is not a one-off case. Rather, this is a ritual murder, and Cohle suspects that this is not the murderer’s first victim.

            Hart’s 2012 interview serves as a voiceover for this scene and others, as he reflects of Cohle’s unusual methods and personality. The pair is mismatched: Hart, the family man with a classic, grounded southern temperament; and Cohle, the philosophical, focused and affected alcoholic. The dissonance is darkly comic, led by Nic Pizzolatto’s literate and calculated dialogue and executed by two of the greatest American character actors of our time. But the spectre of their future quarrel throws a sinister pall over the narrative. The question is less “who killed the girl?” and more “what happened over the course of these 17 years?”

           

The pilot episode felt a bit like wading into cold water. Knowing nothing about this show before watching except that it was about Louisiana detectives played by Harrelson and McConaughey, I stepped in expecting something more welcoming. These actors are known to be close friends in real life, and for some reason that led me to believe that their pairing would be good-natured and comical - a whimsical, haphazard matching of cops with different styles investigating a murder. A dark comedy, sure, but with more comedy than darkness.

When the episode began, and Pizzolatto’s heavy dialogue filled the room with tension, I felt a little lost. Pizzolatto was a literary guy first, and is fairly new to television. Dennis Lehane at the New York Times praised Pizzolatto’s empathy for his characters in a 2010 review of his novel, “Galveston,” and we can see the trappings of a great character builder in this, his first foray into physically realizing his creations.

Though the script felt a bit overwrought and pulpy at first (unaided, of course, by the Louisiana setting, the long intro sequence, and the first half of its name, which practically demands comparison to True Blood), it seemed to tighten up toward the end. Maybe it was the script, or maybe it was me just getting my bearings, but by the episode’s conclusion the intrigue was impossible to ignore.

Also impossible to ignore are the parallels between True Detective and David Lynch’s early ‘90s cult favorite, Twin Peaks. Lynch’s series is often looked to as the first ambitious attempt by a television showrunner to capture the cinematic aesthetic of film and translate it for television viewers. Though Pizzolatto claims to reject typical tropes, he follows the example of a fellow self-styled innovator almost to the letter.

First of all, we have a mysterious murder of a young woman in a small town, and a team of mismatched detectives tasked with solving it. One is a straightforward everyman. Harry S. Truman, anyone? The other is quirky and investigates by intuition. Rust Cohle, meet Special Agent Dale Cooper. And when the sketch of the “green eared spaghetti monster” was shown, I couldn’t help but exclaim, “BOB!”

Also, Pizzolatto’s privileging of characterization over the main storyline is similar to Lynch’s sometimes sprawling exploration of his characters’ dark and quirky sides. I can only hope that Pizzolatto’s commitment to a complete story arc will lead to a satisfying ending, and not a solved murder followed by a lot of bizarre treading of water.

The involvement of producer Steve Golin bodes well for this show and its green-but-gifted writer/creator. Throughout his diverse career, Golin has produced a number of great music videos, advertising spots (BMW’s famed “The Hire”), and several award-winning films, including Michel Gondry’s Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Spike Jonze’s Being John Malkovich and Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Babel.The show’s director Cary Joji Fukunaga (Sin Nombre, Jane Eyre) is also a great addition to the team.

The best thing about this show is that it is an anthology series. That is, after eight episodes, we will move on to a new story, complete with new characters and maybe even a new setting. Pizzolatto has said that it will always be a detective story, but that the crime to be solved won’t necessarily follow any theme or pattern. Whereas most police procedurals follow a formulaic arc in each singular episode - perhaps threading some loose, overarching but ultimately inconsequential storylines throughout a season or two - this detective drama takes a new, conclusive approach.

 

I enjoy a third act and I like stories with ending. A lot of my frustration with serialized storytelling is a lot of shows don't have a third act. They have an endless second act, and then they find out it's their last year and often have to hustle to invest a third act, but they were never necessarily organically meaning to to begin with. So I wanted to tell something with a complete story, with a beginning, a middle, and an end.

 

As a fan of things that end, for exactly the reasons outlined above, I’m looking forward to seeing this team tackle a number of different storylines with (hopefully) equally talented teams of A-list actors. It’s great to see two of my favorite actors from The Wire back on the screen: Michael Potts (Brother Mouzone) as Det. Maynard Gilbough and Clarke Peters (Lester Freeman) as the minister. Hopefully, commitment of only eight episodes will allow more Hollywood favorites like Harrelson and McConaughey to take a jaunt on the small screen.

At this point, I think we’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg. Who killed the prostitute? Where is Marie Fontenot? What’s with that Blair Witch-y twig thing that they keep finding? Why does Cohle look like such a disheveled mess in 2012? What happened in 2002?

Episode 2 airs Sunday at 9:00 pm. 

 

 

Downton Abbey Season 4 premiere: Who Run The World?

As the new season begins, the women of Downton start to experience new found levels of power, influence and camaraderie.

Join me as I raise a glass to the ladies of Downton Abbey. The new season is all about female empowerment and friendship.

The central conflict following the death of Downton heir Matthew Crawley is the same that has hung like a cloud of sleep-inducing gas over the plot since the beginning: the fate of Downton. Will Matthew’s stake in the estate pass to his wife, Lady Mary Crawley, or to their infant son, George? George was only a few hours old at the time of Matthew’s death in a car crash in last season’s finale, and in the six months that have passed, Mary has neither left the house nor bonded with her son.

Always the respectful patriarch, Robert wants to relieve his grieving daughter of any responsibility. Women can’t handle these things! She must be left alone, because “she has enough on her plate." Besides, men need to handle these things. Ladies should not be bothered.

Mary, glacial and austere throughout the show’s first three seasons, grew warmer as her love for Matthew blossomed last season. But following Matthew’s death, like a night-blooming flower at dawn, Mary closed again, caustic at best through the first half of the season four premiere.

By the end of the second hour, however, a door was opened. Matthew left an informal will, (conveniently written with tragic passion the day of his death) bequeathing his half of the estate to Mary - not to their son, as the patriarchal inheritance system dictates. After a brief consultation, the will was deemed legal, and now Mary, Tom and Robert share decision making power over the future of Downton. It is a feminist turn that we probably saw coming, but it feels no less rewarding upon arrival.

Mary’s fear that Matthew was the only one able to see warmth in her will no doubt be countered left and right this season, as the role of the show’s women expands. Mary’s spirit comes across strongest in her love for her family, for their way of life, and for Downton. It is through the prism of her cordiality that her passion is felt, a characteristic she shares with her grandmother. (It goes without saying, but Dame Maggie Smith is already nothing short of fabulous, as usual.)

In the wake of the news of the will, Tom Branson - ever the champion of a lady’s right to have an opinion - encouraged Mary to wake up and find a purpose. No stranger to the death of a spouse or single parenthood, Tom was Mary’s guide as she emerged from her black hole, donned a pretty lilac frock, and returned to the land of the living.

Even more compelling than Mary’s bond with Tom this season are the friendships between the women of Downton - upstairs, downstairs and in-between.

Isobel Crawley, Matthew’s mother, was as racked with grief as her daughter-in-law. She felt no purpose, a rudderless vessel tied haplessly to the freighter of Downton. Mrs. Hughes, the true captain of the Downton Abbey ship, saw Isobel’s distress and sought to draw her back up to the surface. An old friend of Carson’s was in town, and Mrs. Hughes enlisted Isobel to help him leave the workhouse and find a job.

“Set aside your grief and use that strength for another's good,” she said.

With her doting faculties back in use, Isobel brightened.

“I'd almost forgotten I had either energy or kindness in me.”

 

Downton Abbey women

 

What the men of Downton can’t yet see (and indeed, few men of the time could see) is that the strength these women possess is in their very femininity. It is their love and their grace that equip them to handle the most daunting, complex problems that all members of the house face.

In another interesting development, Cousin Rose has come to stay at Downton. A child of the new century, Rose is utterly unbound by the conventions upheld by her historic family, and does as she pleases. We can be sure that her antics will be one force challenging the status quo in the household, as we’ve already seen in her trip to the dance hall and her class-defying friendship with Mary’s lady’s maid, Anna. Anna has always been both a mother and a sister figure to the Ladies Crawley, and is one the most beloved, smartest and most powerful figures downstairs.

Lady Edith, independent and single-minded, is finally growing up a character. Taking her life by the horns and pursuing a career in journalism, she is finally casting off the shadow of romantic woes that have plagued her in the past. And lo and behold, she has met a married man willing to become a German citizen so he can legally divorce his infirm wife and be with her forever. Cue eye roll. Where is my chaise? But drama aside, I see where this might be going, Mr. Fellowes.

I can only hope this show lasts long enough to delve into the second World War, and flesh out all the potential conflicts that arise. The first war was the catalyst for the show’s inception: with so much changing, what is the future of the estate, and the way of life it represents? The second war can only bring further change and insight - not to mention deaths and new roles for the men and women of the house alike. But that is nearly a decade away.

Perhaps the most surprising aspect of the wave of changes happening at Downton is the lack of resistance by the usual suspects. Robert, though at first indignant and insistent that Mary does not know enough to run the estate, rolls over easily when he learns that Matthew’s will is legal. Perhaps he is learning the strength of his daughters’ character and will, and coming to terms with the shrinking privilege his gender provides him. Though clearly displeased by Edith’s career, he no longer threatens to stop her.

Carson, too, is softening his iron-fisted hold on the conventions of the Edwardian era. His fatherly love for Mary compels him to tell her she is “strong enough for the task” of helping to run Downton, a statement less out-of-character than indicative of character development (even if it does feel a bit fast). His friendship with Mrs. Hughes, with some gentle nudging, is also deepening and shedding its punctilious exterior. I would root for a romance between them, but I’m not sure Carson’s loosening of the rules would go so far. Plus, their platonic, unspoken love is so lovely as is.

The second episode preview set up Robert’s financial risk-taking (predictable?), the arrival of a charismatic stranger who makes Mary laugh (so soon?), and a twinge of jealousy between Anna and Bates (NOOO!). Although uncertainty is the norm at Downton, and we have come to expect cyclic drama and resolution followed by the somewhat exhausting return of same old problem, one thing is becoming clear. The women of Downton, high and low, are coming alive.