Life and True Detective

“Pain is inexhaustible. It’s only people that get exhausted.” – Ray Velcoro, True Detective (season two)

*The following post contains spoilers for seasons one and two of True Detective (if you have not seen them already and/or care).*

            I started to write something on HBO’s True Detective a while ago shortly after finishing the first season; however, I ultimately tabled it because I felt that the show had already been written about to death. I did not think I could contribute much to a discussion that had been going on for over a year (which is about how long it took for me to actually watch season one after it aired). I recently watched season two, though, and I think the time has come to say something—partly because of True Detective and partly because of how I can use True Detective as an excuse to talk about myself a little bit. When I started this blog, I decided that I was going to keep personal stuff to a minimum because of how unsatisfying I find those posts in retrospect and how I would like to keep the personal information about me online to a minimum. That being said, I have certainly had the urge to get personal, especially after the election last fall. There is a recurring concept in season two of True Detective mostly centered on Vince Vaughn’s character that I feel really applies to what I experienced waking up on November 9^th, 2016. At several points, Frank Semyon mentions that there are times in a person’s life that essentially split their life—There’s you before and you after. This is a salient theme for the season, of course, because the whole thing, much like the first, is concerned with fatalism, and arguably the night that three of the four main characters are all called to the scene where missing Vinci city manager Ben Caspere’s body has been discovered is one such moment. Their lives are irrevocably split, as the past is gone and they enter into the phase that will lead to their destruction.

            In retrospect, the election was absolutely one of those moments for me. I am genuinely not exaggerating here when I say that it split my fall. I remember the events prior to the day, of course, but they feel abnormally far removed from me. It feels like I jumped forward a decade in a day. Obviously the sensation I just described suggests which side I was rooting for, though I do not really want to dwell on the particulars of that personal interest. Generally, what I will say is that I have never been involved in politics before, and I got really invested in this presidential election. The ultimate denouement of all that emotional and mental investment just… did something to me. This is not going to turn into a “woe is me” or End of the World-type diatribe, but that day felt like a split that I did not really appreciate until I watched season two of True Detective and discovered a metric by which to judge real life—and regardless of whether you wanted Trump to win or not, I think this election marks a clear divide in the lives of all of us. There was life before November 8^th, and now there is life after November 8^th. 

            I somehow managed to watch both seasons of True Detective at oddly appropriate moments in my life. I watched the first one the summer I was job hunting and feeling pretty desperate—old, bad thoughts creeping back in. Season one of True Detective is very pessimistic, but it ends with a moment of hope. Rust Cohle, our consummate doomsayer, returns from his near-death experience with the realization that there is something else out there. Life does not end pointlessly with death. As bad as things are or seem, there is more to existence than just the bad. It is a powerful moment for the character and for the audience since it is the moment we end on. A show all about fatalism and pessimism ends with hope instead.

            Conversely, season two carries its gloomy outlook through to the end—Almost everyone “good” dies from their involvement in the Caspere case. Paul guns down multiple armed assailants only to be shot and killed by a surprise attack from behind as he is about to get away. Ray’s final message of hope for his son never reaches him. Not only does Frank die, but he discovers that he actually dies before he realizes that he did—His spirit kept dragging itself across the desert unaware, futilely, and in pain for longer than was necessary. Ani and Jordan Semyon find one another and seem to have formed an unconventional family unit with Ani and Ray’s child and Frank’s former bodyguard at the end, but the message that Ani leaves us with before she and the others disappear into a crowd is not one of hope. The bad guys won, and the institutions that enabled them and are run by them still exist. All Frank and Ray and Paul did was get themselves killed for nothing. And, of course, the tagline for the season is that “we get the world we deserve.” While season one definitely has a fatalistic outlook for much of the season, it ends with hope. Season two does not stop bearing down. Post-election, that story spoke to me as many of us (mainly well-meaning white folks) have realized for the first time how fallible and corrupt our institutions can be and have been under Democrats and Republicans alike. What people like me—I will admit it—are learning the hard way after the election is what so many people living here—the poor, people of color, LGBTQ folks—have always known: That the world we live in is cruel. Not just spiritually but literally. Institutionally—legislatively, executively, judicially—the deck is stacked against people and always has been. Some of us just have not been paying attention because it was not quite as threatening to us personally for a long time.

            What we do with our real world problems, I do not know.

            As far as the critically-divisive True Detective season two goes, though, I can offer these thoughts: I do not think it is anywhere near as bad as some people made out to be. I liked it a lot, in fact. By the last two episodes in particular the show has built up a sizeable amount of momentum and concludes with real pathos. I think the biggest problem with the season is not its perhaps overly-complicated conspiracy but its technical side. I do not think either the cinematography or direction of season two are on the same level as that on display in season one, and arguably this comes in part from the fact that no one director gets to leave a clear mark on the show this time around. Everything is competent, but it seems workmanlike. There are few interesting or “artsy” shots, and I think the missing visual surrealism makes the dialogue, which sometimes goes for verisimilitude but also often swerves hard into Don DeLillo territory, come off as silly a lot of the time. The straightforward presentation makes the heightened dialogue seem ridiculous when it should be poignant. Season one had the striking Southern Gothic atmosphere and scenery, but all season two gets is some occasional mystical oddness (Ray’s dream of his father that predicts his death, Frank’s dying conversation with spirits, and Paul’s girlfriend’s recognition of his death the moment it occurs) and a lot of shots of busy freeways. Although the freeway motif works well—suggests “transit” between scenes, communicates the busy criss-cross of the mystery and the looming interconnectedness of the conspiracy—it does not create the same sense of place that season one’s wilderness did. Although the show is no longer a Southern Gothic tale, a correspondingly meaningful use of California scenery seems to be missing, though the creative title credits suggest what might have been. 

            Otherwise, I think season two is a worthy successor to the first. Yes, I liked Vince Vaughn’s performance, though it grew on me over time, and I still do not know if he had the range to really sell more intimate moments like Frank’s rumination on the water stain. In some regards, I think season two is better than season one. The first season introduced a similar conspiracy of affluent people but ended with a showdown with a backwoods handyman without saying much of anything about how the audience should feel about the other guilty parties still at large. Season two does a much better job at demonstrating the vastness of its conspiracy and following that thread to its natural conclusion—that someone uncovering such a thing would be utterly crushed in order to maintain the status quo. Insofar as season two can be said to be the “worst self” of the short-running series, I would argue that it is also its “best self” thematically, and I think those themes are now very resonant with our times.