Mon, September 15, 2003

This weekend, HBO filled the void left by the end of Sex and the City by premiering two new dramas, Carnivále and K Street. HBO is committed to following MTV's example of tipping the balance toward original productions and away from the programming it was actually created to air. (At least HBO doesn't have "commercial-free movies" in its title the way MTV has "music." I think they can safely rely on the public not to remember that the BO stands for "box office" which is at least tangentially related to movies.)

Anyhoo!

The Carnivále premiere was made into kind of a big deal by HBO, as if they were launching their next Six Feet Under or something. As a result, I (obedient consumer of television that I am) started really looking forward to the show, despite the fact that I knew relatively little about it. In fact, pretty much all I knew was that it was set in the 1930s, followed a traveling carnival, and had Nick ("John Connor 2.0") Stahl and Clea Duvall. Clea Duvall has been in some movies I liked (She's All That, The Faculty) and some that I kind of forget (Girl, Interrupted) and plenty that I haven't seen although they seem interesting (HBO's The Laramie Project). Nick Stahl has been in one movie that I liked more than I thought I would (Terminator 3), but I like him mostly just because I've heard of him.

It turns out Stahl and Duvall are joined by a vast ensemble including a truckload of carnival freaks and their boss, Jonesy, played by Tim DeKay, who will always be "Bizarro Jerry" to me. DeKay exudes a world-weary gentleness that makes me hope he'll become the backbone of the show's carnival half. Jonesy's boss is Samson, played by little person Michael J. Anderson with a no-nonsense wit and scratchy falsetto that evokes a pocket-sized David Sedaris. Samson features heavily into the premiere episode because he has to convince Ben Hawkins (Stahl) to go on the road with the carnival and then try to figure out what the newcomer's story is.

Which is where Carnivále starts to fall apart for me. It turns out that Ben's story is that he's an isolated, moody nutjob with a penchant for cat reanimation. He also has lots of nightmares about World War I soldiers and being chased through a cornfield at night by a shirtless individual with a lot of body art. I'm finding it hard to sympathize with the Ben character. Also, he heals a lame little girl using the tried-and-true TV method of holding her legs and staring at her real hard. This irritates me tremendously because it's been done to death. HBO makes such a fuss about how its shows are unique and groundbreaking, unlike anything you've seen before, but when it's time to heal a paraplegic, it's back to the ol' squeeze-n-squint. I've come to expect better.

Beyond that, I just think a carnival show would more interesting if there were no actual supernatural behavior. Sideshow performers, sure, like the bearded lady or the conjoined twins or Lobster Boy. But make the tarot card reader just another con artist like the ring toss guy or any other real life carny. Mainly this is because I don't believe in the woozy ESP stuff, but also I just think the story would be more fun if it focused on the way the show folk took advantage of the townspeople and how Ben had to reconcile the fact that his new friends to whom he owes so much can make a dishonest living and still be good people. Sets them up for a show where Samson has a big speech with him about how providing the impoverished Dust Bowlers with a glimmer of escapism is a service even if it includes tricking them a little. Instead it's more of a homecoming for Ben: A freakboy finally meeting up with all the other freaks.

Another story is unfolding at the same time, but at this point Carnivále is holding us arm's-length away from it, so it's hard to say what it is. So far all we know is that there's a preacher in California who has very similar dreams to Ben's and his sister might be a witch. Aside from its spiritual overtones, I'm all for this. I love TV that keeps you in the dark a little bit. The way the arcane dialogue and lightning-fast plots of The West Wing sometimes make your head spin at first. Eventually, all will be made clear. A storyteller must still make his living by actually telling stories, so you can rest assured that the show will explain itself; the result is a pleasant break from the spoon-feeding you get on so many network shows.

So, I'll watch next week's Carnivále, (it is in Dolby Digital after all; TiVo loves Dolby Digital – ooh, those immersive wind effects!) but I'm not too sure about it. I'm concerned that its flaws (melodramatic story, excessively dark characters, dull plot) may outweigh its benefits (unique setting, decent cast, nice look). So often, these HBO shows seem to depend on the cachet of their packaging to the exclusion of substance. The philosophy seems to be that if it contrasts with network shows by employing a stylized, filmic look and a methodical, slow-paced expositional rhythm, that's sufficient basis to make it the next big thing from HBO and sweep the Emmy nominations. It used to take more than that. There used to at least be boobies.

***

I'm really looking forward to the return of The West Wing next week. It remains to be seen whether a post-Sorkin show can still be as good, but in one way I'm easy to please: I just want to see more Joey Lucas.

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