The X-Files Conundrum: Why Series Finales Usually Suck, And Why I'm Confident That LOST's Probably Won't

Endings are inevitable. Things die. This shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone. But knowing it's coming doesn't make it any easier. Television finales are a funny breed though. They're not like the ends of movies, which are relatively the most painless in the general scheme of things, and they're not like the ends of books, which are possibly the most enjoyable in the general scheme of things¹. No, witnessing the finale of a television show is more visceral, more traumatic and heartbreaking than other forms of fiction, and this is precisely why we're so often disappointed by them.

Take, for example, The X-Files. The problem with The X-Files was that even as fascinating as its themes and mysteries were, they were essentially unanswerable, because the questions embedded in its mysteries involved truths of the universe that were unknowable, at least definitively so. The fact that Fox Mulder wasn't afraid to ask said questions was part of, if not all of, the appeal, but Chris Carter and Co. painted themselves into a corner with their mythology of alien abductions and promises that the Truth IS Out There, because that meant the Truth Is Out HERE too, in the real world. So all The X-Files could do was present its own take on unraveling the enigmas of the cosmos without presenting anything as fact. And in an audience's eyes, or perhaps just in my eyes as a child when I watched the final seasons, we wonder: what's the point, really? This is the X-Files Conundrum. And though perhaps the entire point of The X-Files was that we couldn't know the answers, that the truth was just obliquely "out there" and the search would tell us more than whatever we might discover at the end of searching, the presentation of unanswerable questions with the pseudo-promise of answers we knew to be unattainable comes off as more than frustrating.

Many recent shows have fallen under The X-Files Conundrum, most notably Battlestar Galactica, whose finale² infuriated its fans enough to nearly write off the series entirely. Again, by asking questions that inherently have no answers³, Ronald D. Moore and Co. were doomed from the start. But part of The X-Files Conundrum implies that when asking the Hard Questions, we're required to give an answer, no matter how flimsy it might be. Which brings me to Lost.

Lost's version of The X-Files Conundrum could have possibly been even more disastrous.⁴ It's Hard Questions are some of the Hardest there are, e.g. free will versus predetermination, science versus faith, good versus evil, much harder than simply "Does God exist?" or "Are we alone in the universe?" because these Hard Questions are even more personal, more deeply rooted in our own humanity and the essence of our society. In theory then, Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindelof and Co. should be even more doomed than anyone before them, because these are not just spiritual questions or questions of morality, but metaphysical ones where taking a side one way or the other not only defines the show but makes a statement about the whole of Western philosophy. Lofty goals, no? That's exactly what makes Lost so enjoyable.

There's a not-so-small contingent of people out there that would say I'm giving the show a little too much credit. It's true that the show is a mega-pastiche of an astounding number of ideas and references, some of which may not seem to jive together smoothly. But Lost can get away with it because of its scope, because this is a show that transcends just being a "show." As a piece of fiction, it compiles all of fiction before it and spits it back at us as standardly archetypal, yet astoundingly self-aware, like Odysseus reading Ulysses while the 1997 television miniseries The Odyssey (starring Armand Assante) is on in the background⁵. It takes the whole of history of the world and puts it in the mouths of about 16 different people, thus packing every minute gesture with so much sub(and extra-)textual meaning that our brains might as well give up. In short, it's a rich tapestry of thoughts and ideas, neatly packaged in an entertaining and creative adventure story.

The reasons, then, for the absurdly high levels of anticipation, and thus, concern, should be obvious. With so many philosophies (and pseudo-philosopher characters) duking it out, the show runs the risk of upsetting us not just by disappointing our expectations, but utterly failing to unify the theories of 5000+ years of rational thinkers. It's The X-Files Conundrum to the umpteenth power. But the answer to the Conundrum lies at the heart of the show. The characters.⁶ Not because the characters are particularly interesting or well-drawn or are even in such dire straights that we can't imagine what will happen to them (though some of these cases are true for some of these people), but because the Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse and Co. have pulled a clever trick on us. It's brilliant really. What they've done⁷ is created a philosophy of No Philosophy. The large, competing ensemble cast; the complex narrative structure, which has constantly shifted and changed through 6 seasons to highlight the complexity of the conflict itself; the mass dumping of literary Easter Eggs into every facet of the show; all of these things point to what the central tenet of the show has been all along: Nobody's ever really right. In fact, the difference between right and wrong is just as ambiguous in the context of the show as the debate between fate and free will. The big reveal of two men talking on a beach about the nature of man (vagueness intentional, as I'm not trying to ruin anything for anybody here) spells it out for us that these questions, like The X-Files's questions, can't be answered, but at least these two men are (seemingly) aware of it. The arguments over fate and free will and good and evil and the nature of morality and humanity and thought and Powers That Be have been happening for thousands of years, are happening again now, in the mouths and actions of these characters, and will continue for thousands more to come. Damon and Carlton and Co. aren't even attempting to promise answers to any questions that they didn't make up themselves⁸, and that is essentially, to use a Lost buzzword, their Fail Safe. I can guarantee that we will not learn who wins between fate and free will, or between good and evil, because in an age where we already know all the scenarios, where we've seen all the battles and what it would be like for each side to win, there are no answers left to give. This is the plight of postmodernity, and somehow, some way, so far, Lost has been able to sidestep it while unabashedly embracing it. And so, to paraphrase what has proven to be the most apt locution of Lost's No Philosophy philosophy: Whatever Happens, Happens.

But of course, whether or not our expectations are met, we will still feel that overwhelming sense of loss, the inescapable part of The X-Files Conundrum in which the Conundrum isn't the answers we seek, but those who sought them with us on screen. Our television shows are our escapist fantasies--rendezvous with people we understand like family and places we have come to know like our own backyards. And more than movies, which only last a couple of hours, or books, which contain much more to ponder than characters and places and plots, television shows are long-form⁹ adventures that invade our lives long enough that, when they're gone, we really miss them.

I've lived with Lost for a long time now, and it's been an exciting expedition for me from the beginning. There will be many more thoughts on Lost posted in this space, beginning this week with the hopefully mind-blowingly awesome premiere: LA X. The end is near, but we've still got some good times left to come, Conundrums be damned.

Addenda

1. The ending of a book, especially a good book, is one of the more enjoyable things one can experience in pop culture, leaving one with both a feeling of accomplishment and the added challenge of "Okay, now that I'm done with this, what does it all mean?" Just because you've finished reading a book doesn't mean you're ever actually done with it, most of the time. ↑


2. Not even the entire finale, just one scene in it, really. ↑


3. A religious debate this time, rather than conspiracy theories. ↑


4. So much so that it would probably have to be called The Lost Conundrum. ↑


5. Odysseus, as in not the actual legendary Odysseus, but the spoiled offspring of some delusional B-list actor who thought the name Odysseus was cool.^a Postmodernism! ↑


6. Perhaps not the characters themselves but the way they are used in the context of the narrative, as various voices of the audience itself^b. ↑


7. And what makes me think that a.) The series finale will not disappoint, and b.) The show will succeed in being the most unique, most complex achievement of American television to date. ↑


8. i.e. Island mythology, which I feel will be the most satisfying of payoffs the final season has to offer, even though they're probably the easiest of the payoffs to give. ↑


9. Refer to my very first post in this space for more in this regard. ↑

Additional Addenda
1. see also, "Pax" and "Pilot Inspektor" and "Kal-El."↑


2. See, very obviously: Hurley. ↑

Carnivàle 1.2 -- After The Ball Is Over

There's something particularly haunting about the sounds of Carnivàle. The lone trumpet of the soundtrack. The wind screaming like a banshee through shoddily constructed trailer walls. The shuffling of (it seems like) everyone's dejected and defeated feet. The 30s must have sucked. In fact, one of the things that Carnivàle does best is show just how badly America needed a war. The years leading up to WWII--that is, the post-Depression (the Great One, not whatever we're calling the current one), mid-Dust Bowl years--were probably some of the lowest points in American history since the Civil War. And Carnivàle seems to revel in the grime and despair of the poor Midwest, at least in its early stages, as well as constantly hinting at something bigger, something more important than ourselves, something yet to come.

The imagery of the show is obvious from the title sequence, and I've covered the light/dark, good/evil dichotomy a bit so far¹, but what's really being set up here? It might be mere conjecture on my part, having only seen two episodes, but is the war that these poor carnies find themselves wrapped up in the makings of not only a "literal" (as literal as such vagueries can be) battle between "good" and "evil" but an allusion to The Great War, the one that defined our country? The parallels aren't precisely on point, but I think that in times of great despair, as Brother Justin's lunch companion more or less said, people look to things greater than themselves, men that can achieve the impossible², and most of all, acts of heroism and leadership to assure them that, no, things aren't as shitty as they might seem, that there's somebody out there that can make things better.

It's a passive attitude to be sure, for the most part, but there are those who believe they can see the mechanisms of destiny turning, and that they can possibly dragoon them toward their own purposes, but as any staunch structuralist³ will tell you that there's no way out of what's already in place. In Carnivàle, though, it's hard to tell who's pulling the strings and who's just grabbing at the dangling ends. Is the ever elusive Management⁴ somehow controlling the events of young Ben Hawkins experience here at Carnivàle in a Jacob-like⁵ display of metaphysical prowess? Or is Management yet another cog in the machine of powers greater than ourselves, powers that Brother Justin seems to have faith in⁶, powers that are still ambiguous in their loyalties? Though I suppose that the Powers That Be don't have to be loyal to anyone, they choose who they want to be loyal to them.

On the surface then, this show about Good vs. Evil appears simplistic, but it's the intricacies of the events unfolding that make the war more complex. You'd think that the priest would represent the good side, and the boy with the troubled past and all the demons and scary things inside his head would be the evil, but that might just be too easy. What complicates the issue even further is the fact that our respective heroes (depending which side you're on) share the same horrifying dreams⁷, dreams that jolt them from their sleep but don't seem to faze them, as if they've had them their whole lives. These two are the chosen, the Creature of Light and Creature of Darkness that Samson spoke of in the prologue of the pilot, though which one is which still remains to be seen. But I would imagine that the answer isn't as simple as I would like to think. And there's no guarantees that these two men, chosen to lead, will lead their flocks to any greener pastures than the one they're in. World War II may have saved American business, but it sure did screw up the rest of the world pretty good. Like Samson says: "Things are changing. Not for the better."

Addenda

1. I mean, even the actual carnival (and the show's) logo is a diamond split into light and dark, with a sun and moon adorning their respective sides. Might be of interest to note that instead of being side by side, indicating a balance of some kind, the moon/dark sits on top of the sun/light. ↑


2. Babe Ruth's 700th home run is referenced multiple times in this episode, and the man himself is compared to David, of David and Goliath fame. ↑


3. Or post-structuralist? I can't really tell the difference, they've both been mindfucked into nonsensical oblivion. Sorry philosophy majors, I'll do my homework next time. ↑


4. i.e. the Man Behind the Curtain in the trailer with the diminutive carnival leader Samson. ↑


5. This show is more or less a spiritual sister to Lost in a lot of different ways, which I'll get into more as they crop up. ↑


6. Pun intended, but ironically so, because while Brother Justin appears to be the Hand of God in theory, his visions and the consequences of his actions don't paint the side of Light in a very flattering light. Confronting a man with a shameful vision of his pedophilic sins in order to intimidate him into handing over some property seems a little like overkill, especially when the poor soul commits suicide after giving in to "God's" plan. ↑


7. The focus of which we learned a little more about this episode. The man being chased through the cornfield, the man in the trenches in WWI, the man attacked by the Russian bear who sits down for wine and supper with himself just might be Ben's father?? Dun Dun Dunnn... ↑

The Death of Late-Night

Dear Internet...

As you are probably already aware, trouble has been afoot at NBC. For whatever reason, they decided they were more committed to Jay Leno--an aging, unfunny, and now almost universally-loathed husk of a man--than Conan O'Brien, probably one of the only people on their network that could ever manage to grab that coveted 18-34 demographic. The drama has been publicized to the max, and parodied by the parties themselves, making late-night monologues must-see TV, something I can't imagine they've ever been in my lifetime. And now it's over. The damage is done. Conan is out of a job, and Jay Leno takes back what he now has to consider a tainted throne.

Watching The Tonight Show this past week, I thought to myself why anyone would not be completely confident in Conan's skills as a host or his ability to gather steam and, consequently, ratings, if only he was given a chance to grow. But then I thought to myself how many times I had actually watched Conan's Tonight Show outside of this past week. It wasn't many. Maybe it's because I haven't had TV in a while (though the internet makes that excuse pretty flimsy) or because I'm busy at 11:35 doing whatever it is I do at 11:35. I admit my failure to help Conan's cause. But no matter what I or anyone else had done, I believe the grim reality of the situation is that Conan was doomed from the start.

The credits rolled on his final show as host of The Tonight Show as Conan himself jammed out a sloppy solo to a Will-Ferrell-led "Freebird," (the symbolism of the song choice should be obvious. In fact, Neil Young's performance was appropriately threnodial as well) in a glorious synecdoche for his predicament. The solo was out of key, off beat, but he was happy and it fit just right, because as host of The Tonight Show (and Late Night before as well, even more so), Conan himself always enjoyed being off beat, off key, out of place, and that was what was refreshing after 17 years of Jaywalking. It was supposed to be a new era, a new style of late-night television, and it was exciting, like getting a new pope, a new President, or new pants. But instead, our hope in change was dashed, like when the new pope turns out to be a former Nazi, or the new President is too bogged down in politicking to accomplish what he really wants to, or no one compliments your new pants. It's a let down. In this case, it's not Conan's fault though, it's NBC's. Instead of investing in the future, they've effectively killed late night and The Tonight Show, which as Conan has more or less said is the one of, if not the most storied, prestigious, beloved staples of television there are. There aren't many of them left, and like 300-game-winning pitchers, there might not ever be another.

I hope The Tonight Show can survive this tumultuousness, and after only giving Conan 7 months to succeed, I can only hope that Jay Leno fails in 6, and we get another shot at redemption with someone, anyone, that's not Jay Leno. Conan's speech on cynicism was inspiring (and not just a little bit tear-jerking), but how can we not be cynical when we have to watch a man get everything he dreamed of only to have to taken away cruelly and remorselessly? But if even Conan can keep his head high and proud after being jerked around for months, then there's a lesson to be learned there. And where does it all go from here? Wouldn't it be wild if they offered the show to Letterman? The late night wars would come full circle, but no one at NBC has that kind of balls. And now we enter a period of mourning for the Death of Late Night, a 7 month moratorium until Conan returns in whatever form we're lucky enough to have him in. Watching his retrospective of all the fun they had in 7 months--and I was amazed at how much they actually did--I'm confident that Conan will land on his feet. But it's a damn shame it had to be this way.

Godspeed Conan. These 7 months can't go by fast enough. I'll be drinking with you in spirit.

The Real World: The Weight Episode

Dear Diary,

It's me, Callie. Remember me? I'm the blonde girl. I write in you all the time. Anyway, I had an awful week. It seemed like everyone was focused on weight issues all week, and as you know diary, I hate weight issues, because I have them! It felt like everyone was talking about each other's bodies behind our backs and sneaking peeks at each other in the shower. I wonder if that glass is as clouded as I think it is. The cameramen wouldn't be in the bathroom with me otherwise, would they?

I just thought everyone knew how sensitive I am about weight and fitness, given how many interesting and varied ways we like to work out, and how often we like to do it. I mean, this week alone we went to the gym, did a kickboxing class (I think Emily and Ty liked that one a lot), and some sort of variation on Flirty Girl Fitness where we danced and laughed and shook our booties to lose our love handles. It's almost as if no one realized how often we were working out, because it seemed like every other second, there we were, back in the gym!

But then it happened Diary. Ty (the black guy, who is a lot meaner than the ones on TV. I'm from a small town!) said I couldn't be in Playboy. He totally crushed my dreams of ever being naked in a magazine! But I bet now that it's been on TV and us girls had our Really Important Talk about girls and eating disorders and things like that I'm totally gonna get a call from Hef tomorrow! I don't think Ty realizes how much of jerk he is sometimes. He says he's "never had roommates" before, but come on, I'm from a small town and even I have common social etiquette! In fact, if I had put money on it, I would have guessed Andrew would have been the one to say something totally rude and offensive, because he says rude, offensive things all the time! I wonder if he's still in love with me, because I'm just feeling so vulnerable right now Diary. These people are mostly awful, and Ty is just... I don't know, he's just an Instigator, you know? What an ass. Anyway, Ty apologized (but I didn't really understand what he meant about trying to "check" me? I guess I was getting too many compliments and he wanted to make sure I wasn't getting too cocky.) and things are okay for now. Talk to you again soon Diary!

xoxo, Callie (the blonde one, remember? The one from a small town?)

----
I found that under a pile of True Life reruns and old, musty music videos the other day. Sounds like a rough week for the housemates! And yes, you read that right, Inspector Instigator defended himself like a true sleazebag by first saying, "Hey, it's true, you can't be in Playboy, and I'm just telling the truth, so why are you mad?" and then saying Callie was getting a big head and he had to keep her in check, which is the wildest, pulled-out-of-the-deepest-recesses-of-the-ass excuse I have ever heard ever. The Virgin might be The Boy Who Lies, but The Black Guy is The Boy Who Lies To Himself. He actually tried to justify hitting a girl this week. Inspector Instigator is now officially The Villain (Boo! Hiss!).

I once again prove myself eerily prescient in my initial response to Ty as Inspector Instigator, because after setting off the Great God Debate¹, I-Squared sparks off the second Big Issue Episode by making a comment about somebody's weight. So naturally, even before the fat-bomb was dropped, everyone conveniently brings up the topic of body image, independently of each other mostly. First Lenny Kravitz and The Virgin talk about who has the "best body" in the house (which, you know, is a totally non-shallow question), then Bisexual Girl and Pisco talk about how they could stand to lose a few pounds in front of Blondie, who takes issue because she is obviously the overweight one (but telegenically overweight) and hence the seed is planted. And of course it's Ty (though much like Callie in her diary, I was banking on it being Andrew, because he just doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut most of the time) who brings Callie's whole carefully crafted self-image crashing down like a fat guy falling down the steps.

And that's not all he's up to this week. The Black Guy and Bisexual Girl's relationship continued to teeter on the brink of abject destruction until Mr. Villain (Boo! Hiss!) completely loses his mind, and any semblance of what used to be just a bad relationship was replaced with a strange mother-son/therapist-patient/serial killer-victim association.² The two eventually end up just screaming at each other in front of the rest of the housemates (who watch happily, like Romans in the Coliseum taking bets), and all those kickboxing classes come in handy when somehow they challenge each other to feats of strength, begin to wrestle, and finally stop only when Bisexual Girl spits in Ty's face. These people are delightful together, and should probably be married.³

So yes, once again the conflicts this week were mostly instigated by that Master of Inflammation, that Inspector of Instigation, our illustrious Villain (Boo! Hiss!), The Black Guy. At least until next week, when the Villain-in-Waiting, The Episcopalian (doesn't that sound like an awesome villain name?) makes the mistake of judging the Bisexual Boy by his cover. Stop being so self-aware guys, it's getting you in trouble!⁴

Addenda

1. In another meta-tastic moment, someone even mentions the Jesus teams and how the house is already divided on the issue. Everyone is so postmodern this season!↑


2. I feel the need to take the time here and address what appears to be some deep-seated insecurities in our Villain (Boo! Hiss!). It is apparent that Ty is hyper-dependent on other people to validate himself, and when they don't accommodate him, he flips faster than one of those little toy wind-up dogs. An actual exchange between Ty and BSG:
   Ty: "Be honest with me!"
   BSG: "I am being hon--"
   Ty: "Shut up!"
   
   He's also the biggest coward in the world, as evidenced by him meekly backing away as BSG screams at him to stop being a huge pussy and just leave her alone about whatever it is he thought she did to him. She literally chased him all the way across the room, and he didn't say a word.↑


3. I should also take the time to point out BSG's own insecurities, which have been obvious since the first episode. After being raised in a cult, she escaped and became a bisexual and got some piercings.^a Problem with authority much? And Ty being about the most pathetically/passively authoritative (which boggles the mind in its paradoxical complexity) person on the planet, you can see why this is a match made in hell. But what is normal reality's "hell" is reality television's heaven.↑


4. Three weeks in a row now that The Girl Who Sings is an Oh Yeah, I Forgot About Her, but hey, next time don't go to bed before the spit-fight starts! Also, Lenny Kravitz, you're supposed to be the cool guy, stop making me forget about you.↑

Additional Addenda

1. (Side note: she still doesn't seem all that bisexual to me, and this quote doesn't help: "He [Ty]'s going to flirt with other girls, and I'm going to flirt with other guys." Emphasis mine, and maybe a little ostensible, but the whole thing reeks of rebellious desperation to me)↑

The (Belated) Real World: The Love Episode

Yes it was Love Week on The Real World: DC, that wondrous time when the housemates pair off in obviously flawed flings, some of which remain just that, flings, and others that will be painfully drawn out over the course of the season because neither party can get it through their thick heads that they are completely and utterly wrong for each other. There's something about living in a house and being televised that makes these people think they have to hook up with each other, but for God's sake, just because you live in a house together does not mean you have to bone. But alas, here we are, it's unavoidable.

The Pairs

• The Virgin and the Blonde One -- Kudos to the Blonde One for attaching herself to someone interesting and scraping out some screen time this week, even if all she had to do was look awkwardly around as The Boy Who Lies shoehorned his sexual intentions into every possible nook and cranny of conversation. The Virgin has drawn an unfortunate lot in life, as the boy who all girls will be friends with because he is spontaneous and goofy and "fun" but never want to be more than friends; the worst part of this lot in life being the apparent fact that he doesn't realize, after 20-odd years, that that is his lot in life. I can't imagine how many times he's laid it on too thick with a lady before The Blonde One, but it still doesn't register with him somehow. But the fact of the matter is, after a hopelessly romantic attempt to get her in the "back of the boat" (not a euphemism) during a glorious DC Independence Day fireworks show, this Love Week relationship fizzled out even before the end of the episode. The Virgin even managed to to throw his namesake into question as the first person to get minor action in the house hot tub before being viciously cockblocked by the various bitches he lives with. Poor Virgin, for staying a Virgin, and poor Blonde One, for ditching her ticket to ride and fading back into obscurity.
• The Bisexual Boy and The Episcopalian -- Ripe for failure, ripe for conflict, this one's charged both by sexual orientation and religious affiliation.¹ Also, Bisexual Boy has a not-boyfriend coming to visit soon, which will undoubtedly lead to even more rolling eyes and scoffing and possible cockblocking from the Pisco, who is fast turning out to be the most annoying kind of girl there is. You know the kind. Just look at her. Obnoxious.
• The Bisexual Girl and Inspector Instigator -- If the above pairing is ripe for failure, this one is already mid-fall from the branch. The only attraction between these two people is sexual, which brings up another bit of evidence of the beautiful, beautiful casting choices by MTV: Every relationship on this show has a giant looming Issue hanging over it, and this makes me very hopeful for this season, because there are going to be a lot (a LOT) of arguments over absolutely nothing, or perhaps nothing more than deep-seated character flaws, and those arguments we all know can't be solved--they just linger in the background like the creepy guy at the party that's missing a tooth and nobody really talks to but somehow shows up in all the pictures the next day. But anyway, BSG and the Inspector are perfectly wrong for each other, because The Black Guy loves to dive into relationships and get dirty, while BSG (despite her alternate moniker of Gullibles) doesn't believe the men-folk when they talk about the L-word,² as well as taking her rebellious streak³ to its logical conclusion and not listening to anything anyone tells her, ever (especially such logical commands as "Get into my bed" from Inspector Instigator⁴). Sadly, this is the one that is apparently going to be drawn out at least a little bit longer, so it's a matter of time before this one crashes and burns.
• The Oh Yeah, I Forgot About Thems -- The Girl Who Sings and Lenny Kravitz did little of note and were sadly excluded from Love Week.
  

So amidst all the doe-eyed gazing at each other, the housemates managed to go to a gay club, celebrate the 4th of July,⁵ and have a Guys' Night, but the burgeoning relationships were the driving force behind it all. Love Week is over, now all that's left is a series of Fight Weeks. Shit's about to go down.⁶

----
Addenda

1. Much like the entire cast, though this is slightly subtler, given that the BSB and the Pisco are both JIMHs, but the Pisco doesn't like the BSB kissing boys, possibly because of her upbringing? ↑


2. No not "lesbian," just good old "love." ↑


3. Remember, she was in an almost-Cult, which brings up an interesting question: Is The Bisexual Girl bisexual for all the wrong reasons? ↑


4. Who, by his own profession, likes to hear the word "no." Match made in reality TV heaven, no? ↑


5. Independence Day in DC means... Block parties! Party buses! Boats! Cupcake fights! ↑


6. And when I say about to go down, I mean, like, tonight. Yes, this is a week late, but I'll do my best to keep up with the Realies. I leave you with a quote from the BSG: "I was kind of surprised at how real everyone is." Welcome to The fucking Real World lady.
   

Watch Me Watch: Carnivàle 1.1 -- "Milfay"

I've been counting the days until the return of LOST (21!), and thinking about how exactly a show like that can exist at all, especially on ABC, especially when shows like Carnivàle and Deadwood and John From Cincinnati fail so miserably on the supposedly "niche" network of HBO. Granted, HBO's audience is significantly smaller, but shouldn't that be a boon and not a burden to weirdo shows like these? Or is it the other way around, that given a little tweaking and a wider audience, executive-types would realize that the general public isn't as dumb as they think, that people actually like science fiction, the supernatural, the fantastic, and that they don't have to clutter up the tube with shows about lawyers and cops all the time?¹ Or maybe LOST played it just right, given that it snuck in all its weirdness under the radar until people were already hooked on the premise and people (but that's another post or five), but I don't think it could have flown as high as it has without the flame-out of shows like Carnivàle. But Carnivàle makes no effort to hide what it's trying to be right from the outset, because the pilot is pretty effing terrifying.

Oklahoma, 1934 -- A shitduststorm is whipping around a barely-standing shack. Inside, even the walls can't keep out little puffs of dirt and grime, and a woman lies coughing, dying on the bed. A young man (Ben Hawkins) dreams a dream most people would wake from screaming bloody murder, but apparently he's used to seeing lurching, long-haired men tattooed with the Tree of Life chase after a man through a cornfield while demonic, bloody images flash in between the grunts and growls. The coughing fit wakes him, and he approaches his mother, who recoils. He goes to touch her, but her squeals stop him. He leans back and watches her die.

The best thing about this pilot is the pervading sense of dread. The series being set between the Depression and the Dust Bowl, there's not really a lot to be happy for here, and it shows in the grime on the hobos' faces, Ben's loping stride, and the ever-present mixture of Christian and Tarot mythos.² But underneath all of the freaks and death and general despondence there's a genuine, ancient beauty of early Industrialized America. There's something awfully romantic to me about pre-war America, something about the advent of cars and blue jeans, combined with the prevalence of vagrants and tramps makes it all feel very Dickensian (though maybe that's just all the child labor) in a way that perhaps signifies the death of the American West, particularly in the way that the carnival of Carnivàle is struggling to stay afloat. The Little Man who gave us a prologue consisting of, again, a combination of Christianity and mysticism professes that the last thing the carnival needs is "another belly to wash." The freaks aren't drawing the crowds they used to, if they used to at all. It's not really clear where they're coming from (yet?), but maybe that's the point; the wandering nature of the vagabond seems to be just as ever-present as Death herself in this camp, and you can tell everyone has a deep genealogy to be uncovered over the course of the short-lived series, much of which most likely won't even get to the surface in only two seasons.³

And so Ben buries his mother as a bank stooge bulldozes his house, and is he shanghaied by the freaks of Carnivàle for the time being. And as he becomes steeped in the magic⁴ world of the carnie, we are similarly introduced to another land of freaks: a California church congregation. The Christian allegories abound, not only in the church, but the circus as well. In fact, there appear to be a fantastic amount of "good vs. evil" allegories so I think what Daniel Knauf was trying to say is that there might be some sort of... battle? Possibly between good and evil.⁵ But anyway, we meet a priest, who's the same guy who plays Kelvin Inman in LOST⁶, and he pulls a dubious and dusty woman from out of the crowd. They talk very seriously about prayer and condemnation, before the woman is overtaken by a most benevolent spirit and falls to her knees, praying and spewing money out of her mouth.⁷ Strange wraiths and phantoms seem to be afoot in pre-WWII OK/CA, mysteries abound!

And so, in the three weeks leading up to LOST, I've found a show that makes me feel similarly, because I'm a sucker for questions without answers, mysteries that go unfulfilled, and dimly defined mythology (seriously, I am), because they excite my imagination just like my perceived romanticism of the 20s and 30s and ancient magicks, whether it be John from Cincinatti's seemingly-incoherent-but-oddly-meaningful ramblings, the hieroglyphic references of the island, or the eventual fate of Deadwood, South Dakota. They intrigue me, because without answers of their own (whether because of cancellation, metaphysics, or just plain vaguery) I can provide my own, which are usually more interesting to me anyway. I look forward to being haunted by whatever daemons are hidden within Carnivàle, because god knows I love Christian-themed nightmares. Eesh.

----
Addenda

The Wire is exempt, since it's about much more than just lawyers and cops. ↑


The combination of which makes for one hell of a Hellish atmosphere. ↑


Interesting note about the structure of the series, originally there were to be three "books" of two seasons each, the first of which was completed, then the whole thing got canned. ↑


Magic more in the archaic sense than the Harry Potter sense, because in the same way that Industrial America feels romantic, so does the mystic lore being spun. It's not concerned with tricks and illusions, but with a kind of alchemic affect on the world and its inhabitants, a more powerful force than mere sleight of hand. ↑


It's that heavy-handed. ↑


Full circle! ↑


I did not see that coming. ↑

The Devil's In The Details

Something I feel this Golden Age of TV has embraced and perfected is attention to detail. I first noticed it with Arrested Development, tiny tidbits of the Bluth family scattered in conversation and recalled by others out of context that made the world Michael and Co. lived in actually feel lived in. Of course, Arrested got a little wrapped up in the tiny details to the point where if you didn't know what the hell a Banana Grabber was then you probably didn't know why Buster seemed to be so afraid of sheep or why everyone kept making Godzilla noises, but that's what happens when you put a show in a corner with nowhere else to go. But attention to detail in television goes deeper than that.

I mentioned a certain subgenre in my very first post here that I'd like to highlight for its attention to detail. In fact, so-called "absurdist" comedies like Tim and Eric Awesome Show (Great Job!) or Family Guy* don't so much pay attention to detail as present hyper-specific information as jokes. Granted, these shows are absurdist because they take it to an extreme, but since the miraculous revival of Family Guy, the rest of television seems to have taken notice of this particular form of humor: outlandish yet precise pop-culture references, over-sharing of intensely detailed personal information, and in many cases the tendency to recur these specificities within an episode or even over the course of an entire season.** And as new network shows get made by younger writers for audiences not only familiar with but fans of the comedy of Adult Swim and Comedy Central, you can see tidbits of the absurd sneaking into the shows that even my parents like.

And so I call your attention to the latest episode of Modern Family, which pulled of a number of niftily fresh comedic devices, the first of which may have been the most subtle. I think it takes a certain size of gonads to begin an episode with the setup for a joke that has little to do with any level of plot, or that many viewers would even notice until the (magical***) 3rd payoff. Each of the kids gets their own confessional to tell us the one thing their parents say to them they hate the most (Luke hates "don't talk black to me" the most, until someone yells from off-screen that he needs to listen more closely****). Each line is intensely specific to the character, including Luke's perceived malapropism, but we have no idea what the hell it has to do with anything until later in the episode when Manny's mother tells him "it's just not appropriate because she's your teacher." I'm happy to see networks trusting their audience to actually pay attention to what the heads on screen are saying, instead of envisioning the viewing audience as mindless zombies who need to be bashed in the head with every bit of information in order for them to get it (though see the *** note, below. Some evils are just necessary, and not necessarily evil).

Another example of what I am now calling "The MacFarlane Complexity" is Phil. Phil owes his entire existence to non sequiturs and pop culture references, though I don't mean to detract from his character or the performance, because he is actually funny (at least to me, and my Mom, whatever that tells you). Phil is presented as a dad trying to be hip, and what's more hip than non sequiturs? Non sequiturs are funny and Phil's dying to be funny, even when he thinks he's dying ("there's an Alien inside me!"), and up to what he never ceases to remind his family could be his deathbed ("don't talk black to me," which might just be the drugs talking, but it happens to be the magical 3rd time we hear one of the lines kids hate). It's no coincidence that Phil is consistently the most talked-about factor on this show, because he dares to be what older television-watchers/critics might consider to be "edgy" when in reality, he's what all us kids are already used to, which in turn makes it more all the more excruciating (and funnier) watching an adult try to skew younger (you know, with juries and such*****) in an attempt to identify with his kids.

And so, the cycle is complete: instead of shows influencing the popular culture, popular culture cannot help but permeate the show, which in turn affects the shows around it, which make up the popular culture itself. It could all be due to this newfound attention to detail, or hyper-specificity, whichever way you want to put it. Or all that details business just could be good writing, and the cyclicality of it all could just be the nature of the pop culture beast. Whichever way you look at it, at least it's funny, right?

----------
*(I know at least two people who just bit their lip at the mention of those two shows in the same sentence)
**And yes, sure, Tim and Eric is very obviously more absurd than Family Guy but to the general watching public, I would venture to guess that all they see is "weird." Or "how could anyone think that could be funny? A 'Snuggler?' An animated fat man farting? Give me a clean-shaven Charlie Sheen or a good old Homer Simpson on my screen now please!"
***Three is the most magical of numbers, so much so that there is a supposed "Rule" of "Threes" where everything has to happen three times for anyone to notice how funny you're being. It's an old, maybe a bit crusty standard, but hey, it works.
****Or does he? That was a pretty magical payoff at the end in the hospital bed.
*****See? There are so many levels!

The Real World: DC (The DC stands for Defiant Christians)

I hope not to set anyone off with my post title. But if you watched the first episode of The Real World 23 (23!) you know just how incendiary a topic the "God Debate" is. And yes, the new housemates have already been there, on the first night no less! The new cast covered a lot of important ground right away, which makes me wonder what they could possibly argue about for the rest of the season. In fact, every circumstance combined in such a quintessential drama maelstrom, I couldn't help but wonder the one thing that always lurks behind every reality show, especially one on Reality Network 1 or 2 (MTV or VH1, natch): They have to script some of this.

But like I said, 23! 23 times they've done this set-up. This isn't just a "reality show," this is The Reality Show. This is The fucking REAL WORLD. They have to know how to pick the right seeds and put them in the right soil to grow up some nice juicy Discord by now. They've been doing this so long, even the cast members know they're there to fill a role. The next mile of the Road to Conflict dealt with exactly that, actually. As the roomies showed up in pairs, they started calling out Roles almost as quickly as they called out which room was theirs. So in honor of the maiden voyage of The Real World: DC, I introduce to you the cast as I categorized them, in order of memorability:

Lenny Kravitz (aka The Rocker Boy aka Josh)
A hard-rock-lookin' South Philly guy, Lenny Kravitz'z first confessional was given with a bottle of J.D. in hand. He's not exactly memorable other than how much the dude looks like Lenny Kravitz. I am using Lenny Kravitz as a test to see if all people from Philly are really just all about Philly and how great Philly is. Estimated episode that Lenny Kravitz complains about D.C.: Episode 2.

The Virgin (aka The Boy Who Lies aka Andrew)
A seriously weird dude, The Virgin is also The Liar. When asked any detail of his life, this self-described "bullshitter" gives a line like "I'm a professional cage fighter" or "I used to be a skydive instructor," (which no one with an ounce of real life experience would believe from a guy that looks like Andrew [see The Bisexual Girl]) at least until confronted about his number of sexual partners--the mention of which is The Virgin's kryptonite, the one thing he truly cares about about himself, the one thing he would die to change if he could-- when he is unable to lie and can only stammer like an autistic singer of an Australian garage rock band (okay, he just looks like the guy from The Vines, I don't know why I seem to associate people with relatively unremarkable rock front men, but that's just how my mind is working I guess). He is going to piss a lot of people off and not understand why they just don't "get" him and his wacky pathological lies.

The Bisexual Girl (aka Cult Girl aka Gullibles aka Which One Is She? aka Emily)
Gullibles believed The Boy Who Lies. Can you see how good MTV is at this? They know their shit. But yes, the Bisexual Girl is bisexual (and has her nose pierced, and has a tattoo) because she was raised in a fundamentalist Christian cult and has never been east of Illinois, so now in the peak of her youth she has chosen to be as non-fundamentally-Christian as she thinks she can. Her counterpart is--

The Bisexual Boy (aka Mike) [Jesus Is My Homeboy]*
As the housemates broke each other down into "the black guy" or lamented the absence of "a gay one," The Bisexual Boy stayed quiet, because he didn't want to be known as "the bisexual boy." But his fate is unavoidable. Need I say again? This is The fucking Real World. Everyone must fill a role. And so, he is The Bisexual Boy, or maybe just Mike because I feel bad for him. He doesn't like his role, and he also doesn't like being told that God doesn't exist (see The Black Guy), which makes Mike The Bisexual Boy (yeah! a combo will do just fine!) our first JIMH. And every JIMH needs a JIJAWM like--

The Black Guy (aka Inspector Instigator aka Ty) [Jesus Is Just Alright With Me]
The JIJAWM acronym is a little misleading, suggesting that maybe The Black Guy doesn't really care either way, but I just wanted funny team names. The Black Guy says he is "bitter" about some religious issues, bitter enough to start the one fight no one wins at the inaugural House Dinner Outing (I love the vocabularic theme that DC gives me. I can't wait to get to use political metaphors!), so right off the bat, everybody is mad at each other. Nice move, Inspector Instigator. Even at the mandatory Serious-Making-Up/Apologizing-Discussion (the one that always comes after the Mean-Fight-In-Public, which is another big chunk of the Highway to Strife they managed to knock out in the first freaking episode), he wouldn't entirely back down, and he finds a certain someone still on the outs with him...

The Episcopalian (aka Which One Is She? aka Ashley) [Jesus Is My Homeboy]
They're getting less memorable so I have less to say about them. She's a JIMH, and she didn't like the JIJAWM talking shit. She looks like The Bisexual Girl a little**. She does get the only direct quote of the night though, said to Inspector Instigator and her future relationship with him after The Crusades: DC -- "It's not worth it. There are seven other people here."

The Girl Who Sings (aka The Rocker Girl aka Oh Yeah, I Forgot About Her aka Erika)
The Girl Who Sings sang, and it was off-key.***

The Blonde One (aka Oh Yeah, I Forgot About Her aka Callie) {Republican}****
She doesn't get a gender-specific name because I had to think of how many boys I could remember and how many girls I could remember to see who I was forgetting. It was The Blonde One.

The White House (aka The House aka DC aka Washington, D.C.)
The hidden 9th character that can be unlocked by pressing Up Up Down Down Left Right 3 on your remote, The White House is the residence/setting, which will apparently play a role in exacerbating the situation even more, because MTV put the idea in the housemates heads that since they're in DC, they better talk abut their politics. (Religion and politics. The two things no one can agree on. It might be a looong season.) And the sneaky way they managed to slip that idea in there like a secret rapist? All the rooms have pictures or paintings or screen-prints of presidents' heads on the walls, so you've got all the great Heads of State like Washington, Lincoln, Kennedy, and, you know, Reagan (the actor?!). "Who will you choose?" The House asks. "Everyone must choose."


So the house is full, the tempers are nice and hot, and there are mostly co-ed bedrooms (they were all co-ed until The Girl Who Sings and The Blonde One decided to room together instead of Lenny Kravitz and The Black Guy, respectively [which might not help either of their chances of not repeating as Oh Yeah, I Forgot About Hers]). And next week? Topless Ladies! Bottomless Lads! Obama! And more!
----
*Brackets denote standing in the Great God Debate; Jesus Is My Homeboy (JIMHs [pronounced like gyms]) indicating a pro-JC status, Jesus Is Just Alright With Me (JIJAWMs [pronounced gee-jawms]) indicating a no-JC status, for future reference. Those without brackets will most likely get drawn in eventually and pick a side. Everyone must pick a side.

**Hence the Which One Is She? role, which there's always two people that you can't tell apart at first, but the role has usually served its purpose (i.e. forcing us to watch a little closer when either part of the pair is on screen, and renders us inable to use simple physical characteristics to identify who's talking when we're too lazy or drunk to really pay attention to what these people are fighting about this time.) The Which One Is She? is closely related to the Oh Yeah, I Forgot About Her/Him/Them.

***She didn't do much in this episode, other than that one thing, which is okay, because some people just get pushed to the side in a given episode, especially the pilot. It happens on every reality show, and The fucking Real World is no exception. Thus the nature of the Oh Yeah, I Forgot About (Them) role can change week to week. But even though it changes, it still doesn't feel good to be there. Sorry Girl Who Sings and The Blonde One. Be more interesting next time.

****She picked the Reagan Room, and Which One Is She? rolled her eyes at her.