Blurbing For The Weekend 8/23/24
One of the last things I watched on Shudder before canceling my subscription (I may renew once there’s enough new content I want to see) was season 1 of The Terror, which is oddly enough now on Netflix as part of a bundle of early seasons intended to lead people over to AMC+. The Terror's initial season was based on Dan Simmons’ novel of the same name, which concerns an actual Arctic expedition team that went missing in the 1840s. Though using the names of the actual crew, and trying to be faithful to the historic record, Simmons (as well as show runners David Kadjganich and Soo Hugh) found enough blank space in the story to suggest the crews of the HMS Terror and HMS Erebus dealt with doublecrossing, cannibalism and a demon bear only kept at bay by Inuit shamans. And who’s to say they’re wrong?
It’s a good trick, really. Take a story that’s already fascinating and invent the most exciting scenario for what we don’t know: a dramatic Mad Libs. Actors like Jared Harris, Tobias Menzies and Ciaran Hinds would be a joy to watch as complicated naval captains even if weren’t wondering what the hell is growling out there in the blizzard beyond. In some ways, the supernatural element is simply a metaphor for the natural terrors they faced, allowing for a level of ambiguity and cinematic action the story would otherwise lack, and keeping The Terror from merely being a decent stretch of Masterpiece Theater. Inversely, the conceit forces the show not to short-change the human drama for the mystical one, making sure it would be a decent yarn for Masterpiece Theater, and not just underwritten sailors being dispatched by The Abominable Cocaine Bear.
The Terror doesn’t quite stick the landing, thanks to a resolution that diverges from the book and dissipates most of the mystery and magic. It’s as if the creators respected the bravery of the sailors and the humanity of the indigenous people too much to not let that be the takeaway. But, hey, we didn’t make them suggest shit gets way crazier up north than that. Despite the wan coda, the season is still an affecting, harrowing mix of nautical drama and mystical horror. And I didn’t even recognize Ian “played John Lennon twice in the ‘90s” Hart! I haven’t seen Season 2, which concerns the Japanese interment camps of World War II, and - after the five year gap - the brand is being revived for a new season with new showrunners, True Detective style. You might have to get AMC+ or Shudder to see either. Unless you can wait for execs to get antsy and send it further audience-ward in a year or three.
It took me almost a decade to finally see the cult favorite Bone Tomahawk, in which Kurt Russell’s old west sheriff has to rescue some poor suckers from Super-Injuns who basically live to maim. Now that I have, it’s going to be really hard not to repeat myself about auteurist filmbro cliche. This is a movie for people who either enjoy macho racist fantasy, or miss enduring macho racist fantasy because that’s what you have to do to watch Real Cinema. I had no idea that Patrick Wilson appears as an earnest, loving husband with a strong moral code. I also had no idea that Matthew Fox appears as a glib, vain racist who still has a strong moral code underneath the veneer. This is probably because Patrick Wilson and Matthew Fox movies are way less cool to celebrate than Kurt Russell movies (Richard Jenkins was always intended to play the doting, aging deputy with a strong moral code, and does). Hilariously, Wilson and Fox’s roles were going to be played by Peter Sarsgaard and Timothy Olyphant, respectively, before schedule issues. Damn, I’d call Sarsgaard and Olyphant first, too. There’s at least a dozen guys I’d call before Wilson and Fox, to be honest.
Lili Simmons replaced Jennifer Carpenter as the doctor’s capable wife, and while she’s less embarrassing a switch-out, Simmons is the first time I’ve notice “iphone face” in a movie since learning about the concept of “iphone face.” Wikipedia reveals the film was made in a crunch, which might be part of why it looks less like a Ford or Kurosawa movie about violent men with strong moral codes than a cheap movie by a first-time director who fuckin' wishes (director S. Craig Zahler has written several novels, and reportedly wrote 40 unproduced screenplays before Tomahawk). I’m not above enjoying a self-serious cartoon thriller, and the movie certainly has the bloody wounds and male stoicism the genre requires. But I can’t tell whether the problematic cowboy cliches were there because Zahler believes in them, or because he knows they signify serious business. And neither likely answer would redeem trash more than “because he thinks they’re fun.” THREE BAGS OF POPCORN.
Pragmatically, I’m delighted the Democrats have had such a successful pep rally this week. I truly believe we should elect whoever is most likely to hear our demands for human rights and social justice, and it’s transparent which party has even the slightest interest in doing that. But I don’t need to witness painful reminders of how slight that interest can be while balloons drop, or suffer the prattle of TV network employees between the speeches. I’d rather learn via text if there’s been another clueless spin of “Born In The USA” or “Rockin’ In The World” in a rah-rah political context (though the Did You Guys Actually Read The Lyrics gold medal may have been stolen by “American Woman,” possibly the last song I’d want to announce my state’s support of Kamala Harris to). My hope for our government maintaining some semblance of social infrastructure and at least half-acknowledging the moral responsibility inherent in US hegemony came out a little more abstractly: I watched Parks & Recreation for the first time since Trump was elected.
The show was too cringeworthy to even think about when the creators’ Obama-like faith in the arc of history received the saddest trombone imaginable (note to self: never set a season of TV about civil servants two years in the future, especially if a presidential election will happen in between, and especially if you plan to envision utopia). A variety of cultural and personal nightmares followed that made plucky will to power and pride in The System continue to look delusional if not propagandistic (don’t forget Aziz Ansari turning out to be *holds hand to side of mouth* unironically bullshiiiiit). But after the leader of our exasperating gerontocracy made an almost unthinkably humble capitulation for the good of the country, I've finally achieved a level of comfort with civic & romantic optimism to rediscover that there was some damn adorable ensemble comedy on P&R. Even if I’d corner a real-life Ron Swanson and make him explain how he holds onto libertarian fantasies when surrounded by white-collar crime and tech monopolies.
A warning if you’ve somehow never seen the show but are curious: the first season and a half can be rough stuff. Initially, they couldn’t decide if Amy Poehler’s Leslie Knope was a Michael Scott or a Jim Halpert. A near-criminal clown or the romantic lead. It wasn’t until they grasped she should be near-psychotic but capable and moral that the show found its unique lane. You could start at the beginning of season 2, but then you still gotta see Louis CK’s run as a sweetheart cop (*holds hand to mouth* against my reliiiigion). Personally, I just looked up and watched the episodes Jean-Ralphio and/or Tammy the librarian appeared in until it felt safe to legit binge. Because when Andy and April AND Ben and Leslie AND Chris and Ann are having initial chemistry? If there’s a stretch of sitcom sweeter than that…alert me immediately.
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