Drama vs. Melodrama

It’s been my habit of late to watch Sons of Anarchy while riding the exercise bike. One recent day The Sole Heir™ came home early (from graduate school in Georgetown, and—oh, by the way—has been accepted into the Quinnipiac University Medical School, in case I hadn’t mentioned it before) and was catching up on Grey’s Anatomy when I came down after work to ride. I’ve seen a few episodes in the past, which accounts for my philosophy of preferring to kill myself before being admitted to a hospital with anything serious—especially in Seattle—but the kid was there first and I don’t get to spend as much time with her as I like, so what the hell.

(First, some background. My favorite TV shows of anything like recent vintage are, my order of discovery: The Sopranos, Deadwood, The Wire, and The Shield. A common denominator connects these shows in addition to crime. Now back to our regularly scheduled program.)

Watching Grey’s Anatomy in the context of my favorites showed me exactly what bothers me about such shows, and provided a stark definition of the differences between drama and melodrama. The four programs listed above are dramas: they show you shit and you can feel one way or the other about it, or you can miss the point. They have a perspective, but their job is to lead you to it, not beat you over the head with it.

Grey’s is melodrama. They wring every bit of pathos, bathos, and whatever other descending –oses you can think of from every scene. They distrust the audience’s ability to grasp how truly heart-wrenching and emotionally disastrous a given situation is. They explain it and milk it and exploit it until it borders on self-parody. Grey’s Anatomy is a clever title, but they could just as well called it As the Hospital Turns, since General Hospital is already in use. (Ah, but a measly general hospital could not possibly contain the heart-wrenching and emotionally disastrous situations to be found at Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital. Or Seattle Grace Hospital. Possibly Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital. Whatever they’re calling it this year.

This joint has too many heart-wrenching and emotionally disastrous situations to be contained by a single name. This is where general hospitals send their patients to be saved and dramatic moderation to die.)

Compare this to what I consider to be the finest end of a dramatic series ever: The Shield. (Spoiler alert!) Vic Mackey spends the day in a cubicle alone. He looks out the window, sees police cars in pursuit. He

takes his gun from the drawer and goes home. No diaphanous flashbacks to good times with Shane and Lem and Ronnie, or with his wife and kids. No schmaltzy music. In fact, if I recall correctly, no music at all. His crimes have caught up with him. He’s lost everything he ever cared about. Then it’s over.

This is worse than prison for Vic. It might be worse than death. If you get it, great. If not? Fuck you. We didn’t write it for you.

I’ll take the drama, straight up, every time. I’m already a borderline diabetic.

The Shield

On May 23, The Beloved Spouse and I celebrated the tenth anniversary of our first date. Went to Famous Dave’s and sat as close to our original booth as we could; ordered the same meals. (We eat pretty much the same thing every time we go there, so it’s not as nauseatingly romantic as it sounds.) We then went home and kept each other up until quarter to three Saturday morning.

Binge watching the last ten episodes of The Shield.

People have been after me to watch The Shield well before it went off the air in 2008. You know me: I had other things to do, and the other commercial TV shows that had been recommended around that time hadn’t panned out. Still, The Shield persistently worked its way to the top the Netflix queue, visible every time I went in there. When All is Lost included our interest a couple of months ago and we were experimenting with a trial subscription to Amazon Prime, our Saturday evening became free and we figured what the hell.

We were hooked after the first episode.

I had for years considered The Wire to be the zenith of television, even better than The Sopranos. (Deadwood is such an outlier in so many ways it’s impossible to make apples-to-apples comparisons.) Now I’m not so sure. The Shield takes advantage of a somewhat smaller cast contained in a smaller container to show character relationships evolve and fold back over each other. The plotting is tighter and the timing is perfect. Every season Vic Mackey and the Strike Team evade ever more serious problems. Then, just about the time one wonders how many times creator Shawn Ryan can make this believable, he wrapped it up with what I believe is the finest closing episode I’ve seen, true to the tone established over seven years, and containing the quality all good endings have: initial surprise, followed by a sense of inevitability. David Chase should have seen the end of The Shield before he copped out with his ending of The Sopranos.

The writing is spot on. Each episode has a minor plot or two that unfolds under the overarching story of the season. Some resolve in a week, some take longer, and some seem to be resolved, only to appear several weeks (or even seasons) later. The Shield is a perfect example of the kind of fiction I love, storytelling in a “keep up or catch up” style that rewards the engaged viewer. What seemed to me at first to be a plot hole late in Season Five was exploited as a key clue early in Season Six. Pay attention folks; we’re going to ask questions later.

The acting is uniformly excellent. The only actor I’d heard of before this was star Michael Chiklis, whom I’d seen in a couple of network series I hadn’t cared for. I can’t say what his range is, but he was perfectly cast as Vic Mackey. Walton Goggins—better known today as Boyd Crowder on Justified—plays Shane Vendrell, Vic’s primary sidekick who’s not as smart or brave as Vic, but is willing to be just as ruthless, and has a tendency to project what he would do onto others, a dangerous combination in a character and a tricky performance to pull off, which Goggins does to perfection. I could go on like this for a while, but suffice to say all the actors are well cast and excellent, from series regulars to one-week, two-minute appearances.

What makes The Shield work best is its guerilla style of filming. Few sets were built, and quite a few scenes are filmed without getting clearances. When it appears Vic is taking his life in his hands chasing someone across a busy street, that may well not be controlled traffic Chikilis—and the cameraman—are running through. Shot exclusively with hands-helds and Stedicams—Ryan in one special feature seems proud of the fact the show never owned a camera dolly—the documentary feel is accentuated by the actors often having no precise marks to hit; the cameras keep up as well as they can, sometimes shifting to a speaker after he or she has begun the line. It keeps things edgy and forces the audience to remain in the moment. How can we know what to expect next when our eye into that world isn’t even sure?

This may have affected TBS and I more than some because we were able to watch the entire series without commercial or season interruptions; I bought the complete boxed set in the middle of Season Two, when I knew Netflix wouldn’t be able to keep up with us. We’re still wound up, so much so we re-watched the final episodes of Seasons Five and Seven Monday night. I’m sure I’ll have more to say about The Shield as time goes on. Suffice to say if you share my perspective on this kind of story and its telling—if you’re reading this, you probably do—The Shield is not to be missed.

Movies in February - March

Not as much different stuff was watched over the past month, due in large part to binge-watching Item Three.

Life of Pi. Actually saw this the previous month, forgot to include it, which shows how memorable I found it. The allegory goes on too long, then has to be explained so everyone “get” it. The explanation is heavy-handed and full of holes; the overall effect is to provide the illusion of depth. In the end, it’s thought-provoking on a level of Boone and Katy getting high in Animal House. (“You mean the tiger’s not really a tiger? Oooohh, wow, man. You just blew my mind. I mean, like blew it. [insert explosion sound effect here]”)

All is Lost. Including our interest, after about 45 minutes. This fell into a category of films that can best be described as, “I have no idea what I’m supposed to take away from this.” An artistic take on the modern thriller, where things get worse and worse until…I don’t know. Maybe they got better at the end, though, after the film’s opening, even that would seem to be a bit of a cheat.

The Shield. After our interest in All is Lost sank, we had an evening to fill. Several friends have recommended The Shield, and we’re currently between TV series to watch whenever we have a story hour, so we gave it a shot. Now we’re in for the long haul. Michael Chiklis creates a marvelously three-dimensional character, and the interplay between the cops is fascinating. The interrogation scenes are also a lot more nuances and realistic than most television and movies. In some ways, there’s more character development here than in The Wire, as the people are more the focus than the environment.

(One more thing: Happy St. Patrick’s Day, boyo. Stay hydrated, ye bastards, but don’t get shite-faced and drive into a sheugh.)