What struck me most was
the change in approach between series 3 and 5. The former was more about
Hank, as a writer (and teacher) and fell very much into the
almost-but-never-quite passe genres of so-called dirty realism and
campus fiction. He is a self-regarding frustrated writer who looks
for comfort and insight in the brief pleasures available to such
people when they are attractive and witty. It was funny, but there
was a melancholy hanging over the show that it seemed unable to dodge
but at the same time unwilling to accept.
By the fifth series,
however, the show has morphed into more of a sitcom, a new
millennium's version of The Honeymooners, with a bit of The Life Of
Riley and a little Love That Bob thrown in. Thus we have the classic
two couples scenario, but they've been doubled: Hank is not Ralph
Kramden, he's too smart and less self-deluded for that, but if you
put him together with Karen's new husband Richard (Jason Beghe) he
gets closer. Karen is very much Alice though. Similarly, Evan
Handler's Runcle, who is often the real comic focus of the show, is
doubled with the excellent Stephen Tobolowsky to create a single Ed
Norton for Pamela Adlon's Marcy to shriek about.
That morphing is made
easier by the switch of the focus from Hank's writing books to the
film industry, which allows freer reign for sexual sitcomming that
often comes close to Feydeau farce. It also gets the best out of
Handler, to the extent that Daniel Benzali gets to play a brilliant
cameo as the agent Runcle would be when he grows up. This is not to
say the darkness is completely gone: every time Hank's daughter Becca
(Madeleine Martin) comes on stage we are reminded of that, in case we
needed reminding.
The fifth series ends
on an exceedingly dark note, courtesy of Natalie Zea, and this is
where the in-flight synchronicity was awesome, as I was watching her
alternately as Winona in Justfied and here as the New York-based Carrie (a
light nod to Sex In the City there), who starts off as a breath of
realistic air in Hank's life, and ends up as a bunny-boiler. The
scene where, at a dinner party with the other two couples, she
realises Hank doesn't love her, and announces she 'gave him her ass',
which he shouldn't have taken if he didn't, is spectacular.
Zea is brilliant in
this context, and looking back at Justified's first season I
appreciated her a little more. In fact, I found both her and Joelle
Carter's performances more nuanced than I had the first time
around—Carter's is hidden under a surface sexiness and Zea's behind
a surface of mundanity, both of which they manage to undercut, at
least on second viewing.In terms of ensemble cast, Justified is hard to beat, and if not comedy, there are very Elmore Leonard-esque moments of irony in every show.
I liked that opening
year of Justified even more the second time around, and I found
Californication more fun with series five. Even if I
already feel Natscha McElhone's disappointment in series six.
Having just got Netflix I watched the first two series of Justified with real enjoyment although it felt as if it was running out of steam - or maybe I'd o/d'ed on whimsical Kentuckian folksi-menace. But Californication I survived only two episodes. When I was just past adolescence - but still should have known better - I wrote a poem about someone setting themselves on fire and showed it to a friend who remarked, kindly but damningly, that you really needed to be very good to tackle such a theme. That's how I felt about Californication - it simply wasn't good enough to offset the otherwise gratuitous soft core.
ReplyDelete