- Complex almost for the sake of being complex: There are plenty of complex TV shows, films and general stories to be found in storytelling across plenty of mediums. I cannot really exclaim a time where I have found myself confused week after week at times. I don’t typically find myself having to go online to have something explained to me, hell in Season 1 of TD I only needed it for a couple details here and there which is more in general for in-depth analysis. Now there is a legitimate possibility that it is my fault for not keeping track of it all, and in that case I am more than willing to say “My bad”. I watch the show after work every Monday and do my best to focus on it. But alas, I am confused quite frequently. This very much so could be my own problem, but my issues with this season extend far beyond the convoluted nature of the plot.
- Uninteresting: Now I can find plenty of interesting elements in such shows with heaps of material like this. Hell there are a lot of interesting elements to this season, and for me they spawn mainly from the characters themselves. But I’m mainly talking about Ray Velcoro (bless you Colin Farrell) and Frank Seymon (good work Vince Vaughn). I have found the general story this season rather uninteresting. I have no interest in who killed Caspere, a seemingly *******, perverted mobster. I’ve seen this dime a dozen land rights intertwined with dark deeds that sprawl into layers of groups and organisations before, the first thought coming to mind being Roman Polanski’s Chinatown and on later inspection, James Ellroy’s The Big Nowhere. Sometimes this story plays out extremely well, but it’s all in the execution, and I don’t feel it has hit the mark this season.
- Who the hell is Stan? A question we all asked for very good reason. Stan is a great example of one of the biggest problems of the season; the multitudes of side characters that appear for a scene or two, disappear, and re-appear perhaps in name or random appearance later on. This can be executed perfectly well if each of these characters had some sort of uniqueness to them, and made their impact in some sort of way. So when we are TOLD that Stan, a character we see standing around in the background of a couple shots here and there in the beginning of the season, is a great man of worthy merit, we are left empty. Why? Because he had no impact on us in his scenes. He says nothing to remember, he does nothing. So why should we care about someone who left no mark on us in any way whatsoever? Because the show tells you so. Now that’s not to say I don’t remember certain characters; I remember the photographer on the movie set because he had something to identify him with the audience; a camera, an interesting setting, not to mention his peculiar behaviour. How about Tony Chessani? The mansion, his partyboy appearance and demeanour, and his relation to his father Anthony; the mayor. They are opposites in their frequency of appearances through the series, but they do something to make an impression on you. You remember them. However, what about Chief Holloway? Or the guy running the Catalyst group? I certainly didn’t find them entirely memorable, and whenever they showed up I could only let out a resounding “Meh”. It’s easy to keep track of major and minor characters in hundreds of stories, Game of Thrones is a great example of this; a series, both in books and on television filled with dozens upon dozens of characters you are able to keep track of with their own connected and self-contained stories, but you will likely never feel confused. So why are many people struggling to keep track here? It’s that letter E word again; execution.
- The Repetitive Quartet: Now despite my enjoyment of the performances from the main 4 lead actors of the film, I cannot entirely praise the characters themselves. What’s the main theme that links them all? Sex. Now again, execution is key. Any theme can be interesting if done well, but I find myself wiped out by how repetitious their theme, and really one of the main themes of the season is. Especially after Vera, the missing girl Ani ‘rescued’ from the sex party says “Everything is sex”. Boy, definitely summed up the theme right there. Ray is dealing with a potentially bastard son born out of rape, Ani was raped as a little girl, Paul is dealing with his own struggle with his sexuality, and Frank is struggling to deal with his infertility problems, as well as erectile dysfunction. There’s themes that carry the story well, without smacking you over the head, and then there’s this. It becomes tiring and uninteresting. This also raises the problem of how it leads to repetitive characters. The lines blur between the leads from time to time. For Ray and Ani I understand, they are both very much kindred spirits, lonely souls walking the Earth who find some deep rooted connection between each other. I love that, it was built up and implied through their interactions and mannerisms (like when they are both walking side by side, hands in pockets). However, I feel Paul has been rather one note, flat (not entirely Taylor Kitsch’s fault) and stagnant from time to time, though he has had his moments to shine. There has been much debate about Frank’s dialogue, and from the start, it bothered me. It doesn’t necessarily come from what he is saying, as much as it is the reaction of people around him. It’s become apparent that he has been trying to make himself sound smarter with his use of strange dialogue and analogies (“At least with your own child it’s your own sins” being the standout line for me), and as he has dropped that façade, Vince’s performance has truly shown his capabilities (Frank is a badass). This could have been portrayed far better than it turned out, were it not for his interactions with other characters, including his wife Jackie (who is seriously an appalling waste of space and sucks the air out of a scene every time she is on screen, there better be a payoff for her). If this is a ‘reformed’ gangster who is trying to become a smarter sounding man, through words and phrases he would never use, wouldn’t someone think to go “Frank, what the hell are you talking about?” This change of character should stick out like a sore thumb and be questioned by those who know him best, or even at least met with strange reactions (show, don’t tell), especially from his own wife. But no one makes a note about it, not a questionable glance or discussion once. This is where, and I hate to use a comparison, the first season shined. Rust’s discussions and monologues typically worked for three reasons; the quality of script, Matthew McConaughey, and Martin Hart. The lines, though very likely plagiarised, felt a lot better, and that is in part from McConaughey’s performance, who turned what could be seen as (and is in some people’s eyes) pretentious dialogue, into something so natural, and one of the most interesting complex protagonists to grace the television screen. And finally, having Marty there, who reacts to all the strange things Rust discusses, brings his dialogue into the realm of believability (“Why don’t we make the car a place of silent reflection?”
. Not to mention the police department’s reaction to his behaviour and thinking, like nicknaming him ‘The Taxman’. We have none of this with Frank, and that is where the primary failing of his character comes from. Just how many dark, brooding and pained main characters can you have until you stop caring, and feel they all blend together like a painting using one colour?
Now, does this mean I hate this season? Definitely not. There have been plenty of memorable moments to rival what Season 1 has had to offer (the general vibe of the show, Birdman, Ray’s dream sequence, the shootout, the lodge in the woods, sex party and the final 15 minutes of the penultimate episode), and I have found plenty to like. I appreciate that for some elements of the show, Nic Pizzolatto trusts the audience enough to believe they are smart enough to think for themselves and keep track of everything (despite the obvious room where condensing could be done to the plot for its own benefit, though I would not want to see it dumbed down whatsoever), which is really what all artists should do. It’s far better than half of the trite you will find on television these days. However, that’s not always good enough to say. Overall it’s fair to see why this season is so polarising. I have stuck with it, and have gone into each episode with as much optimism I can muster, but I am afraid I fall on the more critical side of the spectrum. I may not be as disappointed with this season as I was Season 5 of Game of Thrones (which I would be borderline likely to say was absolute junk bar the Hardhome episode), but even without comparing it to Season 1, its shortcomings drag down Season 2 to the admirable, but heavily flawed creation that it is.
