Television Tuesday :: the much-needed miracle of Deadwood

Y’all know how deeply attached I am to Deadwood. Like, I can safely say that it is bar none my favorite television program and I will not hesitate to sing its praises (with a few “it’s a period drama, relevant warnings apply”-type caveats, but still, I think it’s actually way better about a lot of these things than… well, a lot of things /throws shade) to anyone who will listen. After my parents turned me onto the show, I/we proceeded to turn at least seven of my friends (my wife included, although technically before we were dating because this was one of her ploys for impressing me, I’m not even kidding) onto it, and I feel comfortable saying that one of my missions is to continue to do this for the rest of my life.

Needless to say, I was pretty damn ecstatic when we got word that the movie (wrapping the series up, since although the technical series finale is a decent conclusion there were stories to finish properly and everyone knew it) was finally happening. They even started filming on my birthday, and at the time I thought “happy birthday to me!” while not fully realizing how much I was really going to need it by the time it finally rolled around.

(Yes. I’m specifically referring to the gaping wound left in my and also fandom’s psyche by Game of Thrones. I’m also referring to a dozen other media and world missteps, though I feel most comfortable saying Game of Thrones specifically given the HBO connection.)

So okay, I didn’t really go in with very high expectations. My checklist was basically

• has Alma (Molly Parker) stayed sober (yes) and gotten some (I dunno, probably at some point in the last ten years, it wasn’t really addressed)?
• are Joanie (Kim Dickens) and Jane (Robin Weigert) alive (yes) and very gay (yes)?
• is Sofia (now at the age of 19-20 played by Lily Keene) happy (seemed so, yes!)?
• is Trixie (Paula Malcomson) okay (emotionally turned about, but yes)?

The rest of it I was willing to negotiate, especially as we drew nearer and nearer to the premiere and I started to worry. Would this, this thing I love most, turn its back on me in the eleventh hour (like other pieces of media, and specifically HBO properties, have in the past)? We waited to watch it until my mom could vet it for us, because I couldn’t bear the thought of having the show’s goodness tainted for me.

I don’t know why I was worried, though. I should have known that Deadwood would never let me down like that.

My mom suggested that it was “underwhelming,” but I respectfully disagree with this. I’m not sure what would have been considered properly whelming, except for maybe the entire town getting together to collaboratively murder Hearst (Gerald McRaney) which had no chance of happening because of, y’know, his being a historical figure who unfortunately did not die of murder. (Other characters do, in fact, die of murder. Several of them. And those that deserve it are given proper farewells, the sort that had me clutching at my heart and making overwrought faces of emotion.) I think it’s in many ways exactly what you could have wanted from a movie-length, set-ten-years-later finish to a sprawling but also very intimate television show. Not everyone got enough screen time (more on this in a moment, too) but generally, I was left feeling satisfied.

And also crying my eyes out for at least ten minutes. It’s times like these (satisfied crying, not fists-pounding-into-pillows aggravated crying) that I’m glad I can cry at media now.

It’s still a recent enough release that I won’t get into every single detail. (Do people care about Deadwood spoilers, here or anywhere else? I have no idea what the actual relevance of this show in my media-watching demographic is, because I don’t hear people talk about it very often but about a fourth of the time when I bring it up someone else goes “oh yeah, that’s good!” and the other people I do hear talk about it are people that I specifically am responsible for having shown it to. I’m going to be polite anyway.) Like those deaths. They happen, and all I will say is all that I needed vetted: no lesbians (/queer women of whatever variety) were harmed in the making of this production.

As for said lesbians(/etc. – I amend because technically neither Joanie nor Jane assigns themselves a specific sexuality, probably because it’s the 1800s) let me just say: things start a bit rocky, but that’s quickly taken care of, and they are just as gay and in love and happy as I could have possibly dreamed. Jane starts the whole movie with a monologue that’s just so completely her, and she makes her queer intentions known early on. (I assume they hadn’t stayed happy and queer together for ten years without reprieve because of Jane Cannary’s also being a real person with a recorded history that would have to be worked around and also because then it gave good excuses to have them explicitly talk about their feelings, something they hadn’t totally done in the show.) Joanie, meanwhile, is first seen the new proprietor of the Bella Union, which could be a good thing (and which I assume was necessitated by the death of Powers Boothe – Cy, incidentally, is mentioned all of twice in the entire film, and that’s good because Cy is a sack of shit) but really isn’t, and her earlier scenes in particular do have that familiar tinge of Joanie angst. (I’ve never been suicidal as Joanie has, but I do appreciate her explicit depression being addressed both through the show and the movie. The word isn’t used, but she’s unambiguously that, and it’s not just a Very Special Episode. As someone with that same chemical imbalance, that’s refreshing.) But soon enough, they’re coming back together, and together they stay, and they dance together so damn much.

Alma and Sofia, who’ve not lived here awhile, return to camp for the celebration of South Dakota’s new statehood. Alma is a successful enterpreneur (still owner of the bank, though at a distance now) and Sofia is an accomplished and very sweet young lady. No, Alma doesn’t end up with Seth (Timothy Olyphant). As much as I loved them together, I didn’t actually want this to happen. Seth has Martha (Anna Gunn) and more than that, I’m not sure they were meant to be in this life. Maybe in another time or place, but in this one I like seeing them being able to be civil and vaguely longing but also comfortable in their separate lives. Everyone still treats Sofia like their collective daughter, which is desperately adorable (I “awwwed” about half of the time she was in the action, honestly; Sofia feels like my daughter at this point), but now that she’s older, she’s very aware of her mother’s feelings and able to be there to support her in a conscious, mature way. This is A+ fictional adoption.

Seth and Martha have three whole kids now, all obviously under ten and more set dressing than distinguishable characters but charming set dressing nonetheless. They all favor their mother, which is sweet. Seth spends a good bit of the movie silently feeling things about Alma again after all these years, during which Martha is mostly relegated to sideways suspicious glances, but they’re very expressive sideways suspicious glances, at least, and the ultimate resolve of this is very sweet.

Seth spends the rest of the film tangling with Hearst and the other main players in the camp, among them Al (Ian McShane) and Sol (John Hawkes) and Charlie Utter (Dayton Callie) and many more men… and also Alma and Jane and Trixie. There’s not much can be said about this part of the story without spoiling, but it’s got enough twists and turns to be, at least in my opinion, satisfying, and as it concludes there’s a real sense of (slow but important) progress being made.

Trixie and Sol, meanwhile, open the story expecting a child, and that child is soon brought into the world. Then a whole hell of a lot of spoilers happen. Trixie also spends a fair bit of time with Al, who’s infirm with liver damage and age and all that go with them, and there are so many dimensions to their relationship that are just heartbreaking. They also both have scenes of varying length with Caroline (Jade Pettyjohn), the new saloon girl on the block, and she’s an interesting mirror and foil to both of them.

Basically, I want to go back to the progress thing. Game of Thrones, for example, was a fantasy world where literally anything could/should have been possible, and yet it ended aggressively upholding the status quo that it should have been challenging. Deadwood, as a show and specifically in this movie, was a period piece based loosely on historical events and figures, and it represents a period that wasn’t exactly awesome for most people that weren’t white, cishet Christian men of at least the middle class. So how did Deadwood end up being the one to uphold things like women’s agency (owning businesses and land, standing up for themselves, being pivotal and important and respected both in the story and by the story) and racial tolerance (unfortunately not everyone is racially tolerant, in somewhat brutal ways, but the ones that aren’t are explicitly painted the villains and the heroes uphold tolerance beautifully) and gay rights (specifically gay women’s rights)? I’m not sure how, but it did, and it gave me back a bit of the faith that other media has tried to steal. Thank you, Deadwood. I needed you way back when, and I needed you now, and I’ll probably need you forever.

–your fangirl heroine.

Television Tuesday :: 10 television gowns I adore

This is not a salty list.  This is just a predictable list of pretty ladies wearing pretty dresses.

10. Margaery’s (Natalie Dormer) first wedding dress

I let my mom pick her very favorite Game of Thrones dress for this list and this is what she picked, and I tend to agree.  It’s spectacular.  The detail.  The fact that it doesn’t look like a single other thing that’s been worn on this show.

9. Dany’s (Emilia Clarke) Qartheen gown

Gowns.  I mean, I love all of her stuff, obviously, but I’m going to give this gown a shoutout because I love the fabric and also I will never be able to wear it because of how it’s cut so I have to admire it from afar.

8. Salome’s (Valentina Cervi) death gown

This dress is different from the other ones on the list because it’s almost minimal but it’s just so lovely.  Salome, I think at least three times a week about how fascinating you were.

7. Nora’s (Lucy Griffiths) Bridesmaid of Lilith dress

I cannot, for some reason, find a picture of her wearing this dress that’s full-body in the Google Image search (and I know not to go too far on Nora-related searches because her upsetting death scene always comes up) but there’s the top of it and here’s the whole thing.  This is one of my favorite dresses in the history of dresses.

6. Tara’s (Amber Benson) Once More With Feeling costume

I mean, Willow’s dress is nice too (as evidenced by my cosplay years ago) but I love Tara’s more.  It’s just so.  Ridiculous.

5. Inara’s (Morena Baccarin) “The Message” dress

Inara has overall one of my favorite wardrobes of anyone on television, but this dress is my favorite favorite.  Probably because it’s corseted.

4, 3. Joanie’s (Kim Dickens) very similar entertaining gowns

Joanie has another one of my favorite wardrobes, but these dresses stand out.  Which is why it’s baffling to me that you cannot find a single image of them, either of them.  They’re the one in this scene and the black one exactly like it.

2. Dottie’s (Bridget Regan) fake identity gown

It’s 1940s glamour at its best.

1. Peggy’s (Hayley Atwell) fake identity gown

Also 1940s glamour at its best.

–your fangirl heroine.

 

Television Tuesday :: two Deadwood shots because I damn well feel like it.

The Gem
Cinnamon whiskey
Peach schnapps

Why yes, it’s the same taste ingredients as the full-on drinkable Jewel.  Because it’s a perfect combination.

Bella Union
Blue curaçao
Red apple liqueur
Peach schnapps

It’s better than it sounds, apparently.

–your fangirl heroine.

Television Tuesday :: Deadwood cocktails because I did the thing.

By which I mean, I wanted a damn drink so I made a damn drink.  And then I made another one.  And they were pretty so I named them after my beloved happy queer girls.

Jane
1 shot apple pie liqueur
2 shots cinnamon whiskey
2 shots whiskey whiskey
Dr. Pepper

“What should the base for this be?” I asked one of my people, surveying the liquor I had gathered to be a part of this drink. She gave me a look.  “Well, it can’t just be more whiskey,” I said, “although that would be accurate.”  “It should be Dr. Pepper!” she said.  “Oh, yeah, we have that right now!” I exclaimed.  “Because she’s friends with the doc!” my person shouted.

Joanie
1 shot apple pie liqueur
1 shot grape pucker
1 shot strawberry pucker
1 shot raspberry liqueur
Cranberry ginger ale

I was basically just pouring fruit flavors in trying to mix colors, and once I had a color I liked I decided I would call it Joanie.

–your fangirl heroine.

Television Tuesday :: Deadwood and relationships, part nine.

This is a brief interlude about Jane (Robin Weigert) and Joanie (Kim Dickens) and how they are possibly the most perfect.

The entire genesis of their relationship is so innocuous: Charlie (Dayton Callie) is one of the only ones in camp who knows exactly what happened to all of Joanie’s girls, and although he doesn’t keep it entirely secret he also doesn’t betray her confidence directly.  Instead, he sends Jane, who has never really met Joanie until this moment, to go look in on her.

And it’s this really awkward exchange, full of attempts at social niceties and slightly inappropriate bluntness, but it’s also got a very positive vibe to it.  And then later that night Jane goes to try and protect Joanie, except she doesn’t, and Joanie takes care of herself, but the next day — Jane is sleeping on Joanie’s doorstep, and Joanie invites her in, and soon they’re moving in together and —

Why can’t everything be Jane and Joanie, basically.

–your fangirl heroine.

Television Tuesday :: Deadwood and relationships, part eight.

As the second season goes along, what we’re seeing primarily is needs-based relationships, but even those are nuanced and different.

There’s Miss Isringhausen (Sarah Paulson) and her relationship with Adams (Titus Welliver), which springs out of seemingly nowhere and serves as a way for her to get an audience with Al (Ian McShane) so she can conduct her business.  She’s conniving, she’s ruthless, and she’s a typical siren in a lot of ways, wooing him with wide tear-filled eyes and a sob story and then turning cruel at a moment’s notice.

And then she speaks to Al about her contract to fix things for an unnamed party as regard Alma (Molly Parker) and this leads to Al and Alma’s first real interaction.  Funny, as he did for her husband and tried to do for her adoptive daughter, but their first interaction is what passes for civil, and Al even seems to respect her (he doesn’t outright deny his prior involvement in activities, he doesn’t balk at her apprehension, he keeps swearing even when she says not to but by the end seems to feel bad about it).  It’s a surprising sort of interaction, one that you wouldn’t necessarily imagine Al to be capable of but that it also makes perfect sense that he is.

Al has also developed a certain grudging respect for Seth (Timothy Olyphant) by this point.  Seth is a rule-following type cocksucker, but he’s still more of the camp than any outsiders they might want to stick in his seat, and therefore he’s useful.  Al understands this, and Seth seems to understand it too, when he’s not busy getting riled up.

Seth, meanwhile, is busy with his relationships with Martha (Anna Gunn) and William (Josh Eriksson), his dead brother’s wife and child, now his wife and child.  He’s put in a difficult place when Alma becomes pregnant, and his handling of the situation is less than ideal (asking her to absolve him of the responsibility of making an ultimate decision by doing herself) but once that’s brushed aside and they very slowly very tentatively begin to form a strained sort of little family of their own.

Alma, meanwhile, is dealing with the pregnancy as best she can, largely with the help of Trixie (Paula Malcomson) who she seeks out despite their not having been close for many episodes.  Trixie still has a bit of an attitude about Alma, though she eventually gives in to the urge to talk to her like a friend, but she’s quick to rally Cochran (Brad Dourif) and Ellsworth (Jim Beaver) to Alma’s aide should she need it.

Trixie is also busy learning accounts and pursuing her tenuous relationship with Sol (John Hawkes), a relationship born of Al’s desire to have eyes in the hardware store but that’s quickly grown into something new.  Trixie is interested in Sol, she’s interested in doing something to better herself.  And she’s interested in learning something practical, which will eventually play into her involvement in the bank that Sol and Alma start.

And then, in a completely different storyline, you have Jane (Robin Weigert) striking up a friendship with Fields (Franklin Ajaye) at first because they happen to be in close proximity and have a mutual affinity for liquor and idle conversation that then quickly becomes her participating in the fight to stop him from getting tarred and feathered and then participating in his wound care like the good sometimes-nurse she is.

–your fangirl heroine.

Television Tuesday :: 5 television scenes

Basically, this is just a list of television scenes that I will reblog every time gifs of them pop up on my tumblr dashboard.  And why.  It’s sort of one of those “essential me” lists but of specific scenes, I guess.  These are all interpersonal scenes.

5.  this Kaylee and Wash scene (1.13 “Heart of Gold”)
Actually, it’s one of the only little scenes that’s only Kaylee (Jewel Staite) and Wash (Alan Tudyk) talking in the whole series, but it’s really telling.  And I admit I reblog it a lot just because I have been, uh, able to relate to that scene a lot in the past, but also I reblog it because it’s this really cute snapshot of their relationship and what it’s like probably.  Banter and also reassurance and sweetness.

4.  this Jemma and Skye scene (1.07 “The Hub”)
Being honest, I reblog every Jemma (Elizabeth Henstridge) and Skye (Chloe Bennet) scene every time I see it, because all of them illuminate different parts of their relationship, all of which are really important and lovely no matter how you interpret it, but this is the one that comes up most.  It’s funny, because it seems kind of cute and one-off but it also explains pretty much everything about their respective motivations and how that feeds their dynamic (Jemma’s need to be good, Skye’s willingness to stop at nothing, in the right way; how those things can sometimes conflict and sometimes work together) and it just seems really cute and funny, but it’s actually very meaningful.

3.  Eric and Nora’s first sex scene (5.01 “Turn!  Turn!  Turn!”)
Okay, so I admit that some of my frequent reblogging of this just comes from the fact that uh, it’s my favorite male/female television sex scene of all.  But as you’ll notice, it’s not just the parts with the sex that I’m obsessed with.  I’ve seen a video of Lucy Griffiths explaining that their other sex scene, the one in 5.11 “Sunset,” was actually hers and Alexander Skarsgard’s idea because they felt that that was just one of the ways that Nora and Eric process things and relate, i.e. physically.  There are so many things about this scene that I am obsessed with and have written about before (the interplay of Swedish and English, the unabashed nature of it, that bit at the end where she gets snippy at him and he gets snippy back because they fight like siblings) and it’s a really interesting crash course on nuances of their relationship.

2.  this Alma and Sofia scene (2.11 “The Whores Can Come”)
I am just obsessed with this scene.  I once made a gif set of it and someone wrote the single most amazing tag meta essay at the bottom of their reblog; it is my deep regret that I did not save that essay and that now I don’t remember which blog it was on to go track it down.  But the points it made were, if I recall, this: it’s a beautiful example of Alma (Molly Parker) trying to relate to Sofia (Bree Seanna Wall) in any way that she can, trying to take care of her but not quite having the language to relate to her like a mother might normally relate to a child, trying to explain dealing with difficult situations as clearly as she can and not even knowing how much Sofia understands but still having to try.  It’s their bond and their bond is beautiful.

1.  the Dany/Doreah scene (1.02 “The Kingsroad”)
This is really very unsurprising.  I’ve written an entire essay about this two-minute scene.  But this scene… this scene is, in my opinion, one of the best things if not the best thing that the showrunners have added to the television canon, not just because it primed me for the inexplicitly canon femslash ship that ruined my heart and soul.  Not just because it’s so pretty, which it is.  But because it’s also really important for all of those reasons I detailed in my essay.  It explains so many things about Dany (Emilia Clarke) and about Doreah (Roxanne McKee) and about what they can learn and teach each other.

–your fangirl heroine.

Television Tuesday :: Deadwood and relationships, part seven.

Tonight I’d like to deviate from the platonic theme and focus on the complicated interplay of Alma (Molly Parker) and Seth (Timothy Olyphant).  Because yes, it’s a romance.  It’s a very tortured sort of romance, very much like an old novel – the rich widow and the married lawman having a fleeting affair before he’s called back to his duty as a husband and father – but it’s also more than that.

Alma doesn’t have friends in the camp.  She at first has her husband (Timothy Omundson) and then her husband talks to Wild Bill (Keith Carradine) and Wild Bill recommends Seth; while Seth passes off some of the duties he was originally set to do out of a self-admitted lack of knowledge, he stays on as a consultant and friend to Alma.  And Alma needs that.  Alma has Sofia (Bree Seanna Wall) and that’s fulfilling after a fashion, but not in the way of adult companionship.  Alma had Trixie (Paula Malcomson) for a time, but that’s a tricky situation.  Etcetera.

So here’s Seth, this man she finds handsome for true, who looks out for her interests both as concerns business and as concerns her visiting father (William Russ) and in his own odd way accepts the person she is, flaws and all.  And they bond, in their own odd way, and yeah, this culminates in a short mostly off-screen love affair with some sexy times, but it also, as my mom pointed out (my mom, who loves Seth Bullock like I love Topher Brink), results in one of the only times we genuinely see Seth smiling out of pure happiness and relaxation.  It’s also one of the few times that Alma is that relaxed naturally.

And it gets complicated when Martha (Anna Gunn) and William (Josh Eriksson) come to camp, of course, but for that tiny moment they’re both content, and that’s something worth noting.

–your fangirl heroine.

Television Tuesday :: on manpain vs. men with pain

So this is a co-authored piece about the nature of men in pain vs. manpain.  I got thinking about this during my Deadwood watch last week, because that’s another really magical thing about that show.  The men on that show are in pain.  Pretty much all of them.  (The ladies, too.)  But never once does it feel trite or cloying (at least when it’s not supposed to feel cloying, like when E.B [William Sanderson] is sad about feeling picked on, even though he’s a giant smarmy douche a lot of the time so it’s not out of bounds for him to be “picked on”).  And I realized how wonderful that is.  Because so often on television and in movies, you have guys whose pain Consumes Them and also justifies everything they have ever done but really doesn’t justify it at all.

There is a gif that has been floating around tumblr lately, a scene from Brooklyn Nine-Nine, which I don’t watch but really mean to.  And it applies often.  Here.  The context for this gif is that that officer Jake Peralta (Andy Samberg), has spent the episode attempting to solve an “unsolvable” cold case murder that he gave up on years before.  Eventually he finds that the murder victim is, in fact, alive and had framed his supposed killer because he was having an affair with the “victim’s” wife.  “It was for love!” the “victim” cries.  “Cool motive, still murder,” says Jake.  This gets thrown around a lot in discussions of manpain, and it really does apply: the manpain-haver will often rely so heavily on tragic backstory that he feels like he can get away with anything, including being a terrible and yes, often murderous, person.

Manpain.  It’s one of the central aspects of The Walking Dead (which I am very behind on, as in I haven’t seen any of this season, so I’m speaking from the past) that drove many people I know crazy.  Rick (Andrew Lincoln) is the king of manpain, not necessarily using it to justify crimes but wallowing heavily in it; the same show’s Governor (David Morrissey) did in fact use manpain to justify murder, and it came out feeling like a more high-stakes angst match between the two.

Manpain is the tiresome flashbacks to Bill Compton (Stephen Moyer) in the Civil War or after it, being so angst-ridden about every single thing that the angst still hadn’t left him in the present continuity but continued his need to feel human again and give Sookeh a normal lahf or what have you.  Manpain is, to a lesser degree, other things on True Blood too (especially after it stopped being mine), but Bill Compton is the guiltiest party.

Manpain is Doctor Who’s Tenth Doctor (David Tennant) refusing to listen to his alleged best friend Donna Noble’s (Catherine Tate) requests that he not erase her memories of traveling through space and time with him, because the vast knowledge of the universe that’s been dumped into her human brain is about to fry it.  But she would rather go out in glory than forget how she felt for the last few months – important and valued and excited about her life in a way she never had been before, and he doesn’t allow her that dignity.  Manpain is Ten also making the death of Captain Adelaide Brooke, a tragic but fixed event in time which is a catalyst in her descendants’ (and thus humanity’s) progress in space travel.  When he becomes determined to rescue her from the doomed ship on which her entire crew has died, she later commits suicide due to guilt – and still he is unable to look past his own pain and guilt.  Various other Doctors have had moments of manpain – one could argue that the entire premise of New Who was built on manpain, since Nine feels constant guilt about having sacrificed the Time Lords in the Time War to ensure the Daleks did not survive –  but these two were particularly egregious.

Manpain is also Grant Ward (Brett Dalton) and… well, I was first exposed to the “cool motive, still murder” gif in the context of posts about him.  The main problem with Ward’s arc thus far is that, while he is definitely an abuse victim, he does not seem remotely interested in working to either move past his pain or avoiding causing similar pain to others.  Instead, particularly since being outed as Hydra, he hauls his pain around like a favorite stuffed toy and, when someone tries to make him admit to his actions (murder, attempted murder, kidnapping, and so forth), he cries, “But I’ve suffered too!”  Ward is a victim who wears his victimhood as a badge and seems to think that absolves him of any terrible things he has ever done.  And, worse, he perpetuates the cycle of abuse and manipulation that he apparently learned from his family rather than attempting to learn a new way of interacting with people.  He is so focused on the wrongs that have been done to him that he can’t accept that he has done equally wrong, awful things.

And then there are things like Deadwood.  Where the opposite is true.  So many of the characters have previously suffered or currently suffer abuse, and not all of the relationships are healthy, but when Al (Ian McShane) idly monologues in his room about his horrible past at the orphanage it isn’t so he can excuse his own mistreatment of people.  He’s not a great person, and he is cruel and/or harsh to most of his associates, to say nothing of his enemies, but he doesn’t try to excuse it.  Other characters are suggested to have experienced similar sources of angst in their past, but the narrative presents this to contrast how they no longer are in that same pattern, sometimes how they have made a better life for themselves.  They have angst and they rage – Cochrain (Brad Dourif) on his knees praying to God to end the Reverend’s (Ray McKinnon) life and turning it into a hysterical monologue about the battlefield, Seth (Timothy Olyphant) and his overdeveloped quest for justice against wrongdoers – but because of how it is presented in the script and how it furthers the characters but does not define them, it reads differently.

Another good example of a man who is in pain but doesn’t have manpain is Ned (Lee Pace) from Pushing Daisies, who has more than enough pain for any fictional character.  As a child, he discovered he had the power to bring dead things back to life when his dog, Digby, was run over by a truck.  One touch restored Digby, and, when his mother collapsed from a brain aneurysm, he was able to revive her too – but then he learned that his power had a catch, and that if something came back to life, something else had to die.  In that case, the “something else” was his best (and only) friend Chuck’s father, and Chuck was then sent far away to live with her aunts.  Then, later that night, he discovered the other half of the catch when his mother kissed him goodnight: if he touched an alive-again person once more, they would be dead permanently.  After his mother’s second death, Ned’s father shipped him off to boarding school and then moved house and started a new family without telling him.  This caused Ned to have issues with intimacy in his adult life, but he manages to find some form of happiness using his gift to make alive-again fruit pies in his restaurant, the Pie Hole.  He also works with his private detective friend Emerson Cod (Chi McBride) to alive-again murder victims and ask who killed them, then put away the perps and collect any reward money.  Then, later in the episode, he alives-again Chuck (Anna Friel), who has been murdered, since he had been in love with her since childhood and couldn’t bear to leave her dead – but, of course, they can’t touch except through barriers or she will die a second death.  All this to say, he has more than enough pain in his life, but he never infringes his pain upon other people, and if he does, the show is careful to call him out on it.

In one episode, the show introduces Ned’s half-brothers, who were part of the new family his father started after abandoning him.  Ned has resented these men for his entire life, having caught a brief, accidental glimpse of them after attempting to track down his father as a boy, but he rejected the idea of connecting with them as an adult.  It turns out, however, that not only do they have superficial things in common with Ned, but they, too, were abandoned callously by their father.  This episode serves to remind Ned that, while his pain is real, his pain does not diminish the pain of those around him, particularly those that he may blame for his pain.  And, in the end, they bond over their father’s inadequacy.

The point of all of this is: television, there is a way to handle angst in such a way that is neither cliched nor harmful toward the characters’ narrative arcs.  Study it.  Work on it.

–your fangirl heroines.

Television Tuesday :: Deadwood and relationships, part six.

The end of season one of Deadwood makes my mother cry every time, and if I did that kind of thing I would probably join her, and this is for two primary reasons, which I realize sort of run parallel-but-opposite: Jewel (Geri Jewell) and Doc Cochran (Brad Dourif), Reverend Smith (Ray McKinnon) and Al (Ian McShane).

Consider.

Jewel, who has lived her whole life with, as Cochran puts it, “difficulties,” and the Reverend, who has only recently come into difficulties.  Jewel, who manages her difficulties and continues to function productively, and the Reverend, whose difficulties have by season’s end laid him up completely.  Jewel, who actively seeks not a cure but assistance, who tries to improve on her own lot in life with the assistance of others, and the Reverend, who smilingly accepts his fate as “god’s plan” and does not ask for help yet receives it.  Jewel, who ends the season happily dancing with Cochran, and the Reverend, who ends the season by being sent to what might be his heaven by Al.

Interesting is the way these stories overlap each other in the plot of the show, too: Jewel is in Al’s employ and wants to get around more easily in part so she doesn’t aggravate Al as much (Cochran tells her “fuck Al” every time she mentions this, has no interest in helping her just to help him), Al cares for Jewel but also regularly derides her (not that he doesn’t deride everyone for one thing or another, but still it needs noted).  The Reverend had previously worked in a volunteer capacity with Cochran but tried to hide his condition from him, Cochran wants to help the Reverend but cannot get through to him.  Jewel belongs more to Al’s world and the Reverend to Cochran’s on the surface, but that’s not how the stories end.

Jewel and Cochran have a rapport, that much can’t be denied, and it’s not just seen in these episodes.  Jewel has those difficulties, but she’s bright and has a sense of humor both about herself and about life, she doesn’t take shit, she holds her head up high, and Cochran respects that.  Cochran is gruff and slightly unnerving in some contexts, he’s angry a lot of the time and apparently did some graverobbing in his day, he’s sometimes judgmental and often harsh, but he does have compassion for people, and his biggest hope in helping Jewel is that he will help her, that he won’t be setting her up to harm herself and put her in even more difficulties.  She wants to go about her life in a more efficient fashion, and she understands the risks but that’s not going to stop her from trying.  Jewel’s interest is in her life, and Cochran’s interest is in that too, and then they dance and are happy together.

Al and the Reverend have an odder relationship.  They don’t speak much at first, being in drastically different businesses, but as the Reverend’s condition becomes apparent Al reveals that he had a brother who suffered similar “fits” that might be the cause of his sympathy for the Reverend.  And as the Reverend gravitates toward Al’s new piano and eventually is installed in the back of the Gem, Al’s sympathy for him develops, so much that he eventually answers the prayer he doesn’t know that Cochran is making for an end to the Reverend’s pain by smothering him (“you can go now, brother”).  The Reverend’s story ends in death, but it’s a different kind of peace.

–your fangirl heroine.