Season 2, Episode 1: The Western Book of the Dead
Season 2, Episode 2: Night Finds You
Season 2, Episode 3: Maybe Tomorrow
Season 2, Episode 4: Down Will Come
Season 2, Episode 5: Other Lives
Season 2, Episode 6: Church in Ruins
Season 2, Episode 7: Black Maps and Motel Rooms
Season 2, Episode 8: Omega Station
* * * * *
Everything ends.
Or does it? Well, yes, it does. Unless you're a Kardashian, or the showrunner behind EastEnders, you can pretty much guarantee that your television show will have to reach a conclusion at some point. It doesn't matter whether it's good, bad, middling, dull, funny, vastly over or under-rated: your show will come to an end, your characters will cease to exist outside of lunchboxes and coffee mugs, so you'd better get used to it. Some shows are so bad they immediately get the chop, some shows are bad but continue to survive for a long time anyway, some shows start strong then lose their way, and some shows only begin to hit their stride as they are cut short by a group of satanic studio executives, left for a small enclave of nerds to obsess over on the internet for time immemorial.
I've been thinking about it for a few days, and I still can't decide where True Detective falls on that spectrum. If encompassing the first season, then we might categorise it as a show that lost its way. Yet that doesn't do justice to the gulf in critical reception between the two; it would be more accurate to say that, if Season One was a impressive Range Rover of ambition, Season Two was a beaten up Toyota that punctured four of its tires, hit a deer, swerved off the road and did ten front-flips before sinking into a river. Or at least, that's what Todd VanDerWerff thought.
But I think writing True Detective off by this point would be a mistake. As I've said in these weekly blog entries, the show's had its good bits, and - aside from some truly inexcusable writing - has gotten better over time, given way to something that Nic Pizzolatto had in his head all along, though something he might have struggled to get on paper. I'd draw specific focus to the massive sex orgy scene of Episode 6 as an example of an effectively modern, hellish realisation of Los Angeles noir tropes of the 40s and 50s, seamlessly bringing character development, atmosphere and story together. And while it doesn't hold a candle to Cary Fukunaga's famous six-minute tracking shot, the shootout in Episode 4 was as exciting and grisly as any Hollywood movie.
Anyway, let's talk about the episode itself. "Omega Station" promised itself as an event, a feature length finale that would wrap up everything and quell any doubts held about the progression of the series. It isn't, and it doesn't, but this ending feels perfectly fine - almost as if Pizzolatto started there and worked his way backwards. We rejoin Ani and Ray after they've slept together, completely oblivious to Paul's demise. (Though as Ray admits later in the episode, they were never that close anyway.) It comes across as a bit Don't Look Now, as each one spills their guts while the camera cuts to them getting dressed, smoking, using the toilet, etc.. When creepy cop Burris rings them up, though, they know that they're reaching some kind of end game, even if it won't be pretty.
It should come as no surprise that the people responsible for Caspar's death were, in fact, the orphans from the jewel store robbery - after all, they were the only loose ends in this whole mess. Ani and Ray find the girl tied up, saying her crazy set-photographer brother tortured Caspar to death and put his body on the park bench for a laugh. He's also the one responsible for shooting Ray with the rock salt shotgun while wearing a bird mask - though why he didn't kill him in the first place isn't really explained.
In fact, not very much is explained about our afterthought of a killer. When Ray finds him at the titular train station, he might as well be wearing a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt: his hair's died black and at one point he spouts, "I am the blade and the bullet." God. Is this really the guy? I feel like we could have done better. Anyway, he's only there to draw out the final dirty cops (the black guy survived being repeatedly bashed in the head, apparently) and, after a chaotic shootout, Ray and Ani are set to leave for Venezuela with Frank, where they can have drinks on the beach, give each other a group hug and say "We are the TRUEST detectives!"
Or not. Frank's got a few more things to clear up, and not all of it goes his way. After one final, dreadful conversation between him and his wife ("That was a fuckin' big diamond!"), he teams up with Ray and shoots the hell out of a hideout that Blofeld would be ashamed to call his own, even getting some nice revenge on that Russian guy he didn't like so much. Only problem is, Frank forgot about another ethnic minority group - the Mexicans - who take him on one of those blasted Rides Into the Desert™. When they try and take his suit, Frank - in an act that is part pride, part financially motivated by the diamonds in the pocket - hits a guy, who promptly stabs him. The Mexicans leave him for dead, and Frank determinedly (and fruitlessly) tries to walk back into the city. It's perhaps a too heavy-handed and obvious resolution for his irritating character, made worse by the clichéd use of ghosts and flashbacks on his journey. But it's one that just about works. I hated Frank's stupid catchphrases as much as the next guy, but even I was a little sad to see his promise of wearing "a red rose" come bloodily realised, moments before he collapsed for good.
Another death that takes its toll is Ray's, which is, again, very obvious, but effectively realised. After being unable to resist the urge to say goodbye to his son - who respects him in spite of everything - he finds a tracker on his car, and realises his time's up. His dream prophecy was true to the letter, as a sling-wearing Burris chases him into the trees to his death. While dodgy phone signal will ensure that his son will never hear his farewell message (seriously Ray, why run into the forest for better signal?) it's still something that draws his character to a satisfying, tragic close: "I'm sorry for the man I became, for the father I was ... I hope you've got no doubt how much I love you, son. You're better than me. If I'd been stronger, I'd have been more like you."
Everything ends, but in this story good doesn't quite triumph. After a montage showing that Vinci is more corrupt than ever, the final few minutes of True Detective end with Ani talking to a reporter, finishing her story. (So wait, she was narrating the entire time? Maybe that's why nothing made sense: she's a lousy storyteller.) She's teamed up with Jordan - along with what must be Ray's baby - and both seem ready to take on the world, albeit wary of danger that could come at any time. Is it the best ending True Detective could have hoped for? Maybe. It's at least consistent with what came before it, which is reinforced by another Lera Lynn dirge over the ending. (Seriously, buy her a fucking ABBA album or something.) The series hasn't changed, for better or worse. But in this case, I might have been receptive to a bit of flexibility, to a bit of power taken away from someone who is clearly an interesting but heavily flawed storyteller. Oh well. There's always next season.
STRAYS:
STRAYS:
- I have to admit, the more I thought about it, the more the logic of this episode didn't quite hold together. How did Ray, a messy alcoholic, manage to kill a bunch of elite force operatives? Why wasn't Ani, an independent, sex-focused individual, using birth control? Why did emo orphan torch that car while wearing a plate on his face? What happened to Ani's father and sister?
- Maybe Leonard Cohen was right: "Nevermind..."
- Sorry if this review came across as a bit snarky. I tried not to be snarky at the start of this series blog but, over time, a lot of things about the show began to annoy me. It's mostly been out of frustration - the clunky dialogue, mostly - but I've never thought this series was bad, just nowhere near as brilliant as it could have been. Hopefully the negative critical reaction will influence Pizzolatto to go back to the drawing board and rediscover what made that first series so great.
