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Analyzed TV Review: True Detective Season 1

2/19/2016

 
Written by: Kevin Berge
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If the suit makes the man, these two really need to become better men. (Image courtesy of: rantlifestyle.com)
Quick Take: The first season of True Detective is an intoxicating ride, an eight episode dive into the psyche of two damaged, flawed men with just enough human righteousness to combat the absolute depths of humanity. With two stellar lead performances, a gripping narrative, and direction that most filmmakers would envy, the show is nail-biting, disturbing, and rich in thought.
***The rest of this review will be spoiler heavy, picking apart the details of season one of True Detective from its first shot to its last. If you can stomach the ride of the show and haven't taken the plunge, I implore you to give it a chance. You won't regret watching it without any information ahead of time.***

A second warning: all quotes from the show used are printed as said which will often include profanity. If that upsets you, skip all quotations.
People out here, it’s like they don’t know the outside world exists. Might as well be living on the fucking moon. - Rust

There’s all kinds of ghettos in the world. - Marty

It’s all one ghetto, man, a giant gutter in outer space.
In the world of True Detective, everybody's a sinner, justifying their own transgressions through ridiculous rationalization and egotism. The heroes of this story aren't good people, but they are the best available. While everyone else turns away, they pay attention even if it means destroying their own fragile psyches.

When I began watching True Detective for the first time, I believed I knew exactly what I was getting into. It was going to be a well acted buddy cop story that was gritty and vicious because it could be. However, I was completely off base. This is television unlike anything that has been seen before. It is television with a novel's sophistication and a film's level of detail.

Written by Nic Pizzolatto as his first venture in television after having a number of successes in short stories and novels, the series brims with philosophical intelligence with influences ranging from Emil Cioran to Thomas Ligotti and, of course, Robert W. Chambers whose The King in Yellow is the season's leading lore.

Fundamentally, this is a simple story of two very interesting men which means the best way to introduce the season is to focus on the very first real discussion the two have in their car.
Look, I’d consider myself a realist, all right, but, in philosophical terms, I’m what’s called a pessimist. - Rust

Um, okay, what’s that mean? - Marty

It means I’m bad at parties.

Let me tell you, you ain’t great outside of parties either.

I think human consciousness is a tragic misstep in evolution.  We became too self-aware. Nature created an aspect of nature separate from itself. We are creatures that should not exist by natural law.

Hm, that sounds good-fucking-awful, Rust.

We are things that labor under the illusion of having a self, this accretion of sensory experience and feeling, programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody when, in fact, everybody’s nobody.

I wouldn’t go around spouting that shit if I was you. People around here don’t think that way. I don’t think that way.

I think the honorable thing for our species to do is deny our programming: stop reproducing, walk hand in hand into extinction, one last midnight, brothers and sisters opting out of a raw deal.

So what’s the point in getting out of bed in the morning?

I tell myself I bear witness, but the real answer is that it’s obviously my programming and I lack the constitution for suicide.
The series introduces the intellectual vs. common man conflict with some of the most dense and fascinating dialogue you'll hear on television, but what really matters is that it is the opening to a far more interesting dynamic. Rust thinks too much about who he is and what he does while Marty does not think enough about it.

This is one of many dynamics the show creates and develops over time, presenting intellectual and philosophical questions to its viewers about their own existence even beyond the characters. It is enrichingly dense, leaving far more to the viewer's own interpretation than most other entertainment.
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Matthew McConaughey has certainly seen better days, but he's also seen worse. Have you seen Surfer, Dude? (Image courtesy of: indiewire.com)
When asked about what drove him to create True Detective, Pizzolatto has said that he feels television is the best medium now for telling stories. You can see this in the way he manipulates the early episodes with interviews by the main characters that are filled with half-truths given to the interviewers even when the camera shows the audience the real truth.

This is also clear in later episodes as image is just as crucial to story as scene and dialogue. With pieces of the story's mythology developing, there is great and quiet symbolism in scenes like Marty's children playing around with a princess crown and Marty being talked about as a sea of cigarette smoke covers his face.

My personal favorite use of the medium in this season is in season seven. When Rust shows Marty the videotape of what truly was going down in this whole religious conspiracy, the audience is only given hints and snippets of the video. As it gets to the most gruesome moments, the viewer is thrust away, given only Marty's reaction to the shock. Whatever went down is even more disturbing because it is made so taboo.

There's a lot of untapped potential in just how much a moving image and acting can add to storytelling which is why I have recently found myself so drawn to television. There are more working parts and potential tools in television that are not available with novels, and there's more time and space to tell a story than with movies.

You can become attached to characters and their experiences, rooting for them to succeed. While True Detective Season 1 is not the epitome of all that television can be as a storytelling platform, it is proof that television is evolving beyond the procedurals and villain-of-the-week style stories that even now are most popular on TV.
Can you imagine if people didn't believe? What things they'd get up to? - Marty

The exact same thing they do now, just out in the open. - Rust

Bullshit, it'd be a fucking freak show of murder and debauchery, and you know it.

If the only thing keeping a person decent is the expectation of divine reward, then, brother, that person is a piece of shit, and I'd like to get as many of them out in the open as possible.

I guess your judgment is infallible, piece-of-shit-wise.
Special recognition needs to also be given to Cary Joji Fukunagi, the director of every single episode of this first season, who is a name to watch out for in the future. His work with the camera is incredibly focused. You can tell he has a real eye for filmmaking that few have. In the early episodes, he makes sure to always focus upon the small details, following in particular Rust's investigative eyes.

The characters are often shown in the background, framed by the rest of the world, though there is always a focus to the shot, typically the person speaking. Close ups are given only as character conflict becomes more central, willing to get uncomfortably close when it's called for.

Fukunagi is intensely aware of how much the script at any time is about the characters or about a larger scope which is extremely valuable with Pizzolato's wide ranging ideas. Not many people could make the camera work and acting feel genuinely connected to dialogue this dense.

Then of course there's the tracking shot in episode four. Six minutes completely uninterrupted, the camera follows Rust working an undercover robbery with an old bike gang he once knew. It's a masterpiece of television that few could have pulled off, and it supposedly only took Fukunagi seven attempts to get right. It is controlled violence, the right balance of chaos and order that epitomizes Rust as a character.

It's a shame that Fukunagi and Pizzolato had such a falling out after this season. I can't say anything for season 2 which I have not seen yet (due to poor word of mouth), but it is hard to imagine this series being so strong in the hands of another director (or, as with most television, in the hands of several directors).
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Marty isn't a great guy, but he really has a relatable WTF face. (Image Courtesy of: youtube.com)
Of course what really defines this series and makes it hard to imagine a season without them are the leads. Matthew McConaughey was supposedly originally pegged for the role of Marty because of his work in the movie Lincoln Lawyer, and he would have been good in the role. In fact, I could see both main actors in the other man's shoes.

However, McConaughey knew, before even Pizzolato knew, that no one would make a better Rust than him. Rust Cohle is a highly philosophical man by necessity, broken by the loss of his child at a young age. He's too morally driven for his job which forced him into a prolonged state of playing a role, and now he teeters on the edge of reality and even having a self.
Now I live in a little room out in the country, behind a bar, work four nights a week. In between, I drink, and there ain't nobody there to stop me. I know who I am. After all these years, there's a victory in that. - Rust
You can tell that McConaughey embraced that character, engrossed himself in that tragic, broken state, even beginning to embrace his philosophy. He's basically unrecognizable in the role. His main timeline character is disheveled, haggard, and looks terribly unhealthy to the point where he does not look like McConaughey anymore, but the actor was long before immersed in the role so fully he disappeared.

Woody Harrelson doesn't have as flashy a role with Marty Hart, but he's just as wholly invested in his character. Marty is a fairly simple man. He's a family man cop with a simple sense of order and justice. Everything he believes is wholly real and unmistakable for him, and the rest of the world is just trying to keep up.

While Marty seems righteous, he's boorishly promiscuous, finding girls half his age and using them to feel young and free again. He tells himself that he does it for his family, to let out the pent up emotion that comes with his terrible job, but he can't stop even when it ruins his life.
Bad enough the shit I got to wade through on a daily basis, bring me this 'feel bad for me' crap when I work 30 hours straight and spent the weekend dealing with your dad's bullshit. I come home, the one place where there's supposed to be peace and calm, and you throw this shit... - Marty

Who told you that? It's not always that way. It's not supposed to be. - Maggie, Marty's wife

It's supposed to be what I want. It's supposed to help me.

We do help you. All the goddamn time!

Okay, well, what do you want me to say? You want me to talk about the woman, had antlers? Do you want me to tell you about the kids disappearing and maybe you'll stop with the 'poor me' whiny bullshit?
Harrelson carries his confidence and vulnerability on his sleeve. He demands his sexual prowess be understood and acknowledged. Everyone must follow his plan of order and control. Still, he's got a sense of honor and understands when something is truly wrong, finding a healthy way to channel his anger and drinking issues.

The best part about both men is their dynamic with each other. These are not your typical buddy cops. They are clashing personalities. At times, they flat out hate each other so much it makes it easy to believe one will truly snap on the other. However, they have begrudging respect which is good since Marty is the only guy who can actually work with Rust.

There's actually a sense that these two feel protective of one another at the end even as the world conspires to separate them. After Marty's wife seduces Rust then admits she only slept with him to hurt Marty, Rust seems most angry that his partnership has been shattered for nothing, quietly taking Marty's anger and losing the closest thing he had to a friend.

The fight itself is a great showcase of their conflict; Rust wins with ease yet doesn't throw a punch. Marty in turn covers up for Rust when the detectives seem to suspect his partner is actually reenacting the murders of the Dora Lange case.

Even though Marty knows he has to be careful, he gives Rust the benefit of the doubt right to the end, luckily since nobody else ever would have. It is only their common respect that allows them to succeed. Their final scene together is the only time they truly come off as friends, and it feels well earned.
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For a pessimistic atheist, Rust isn't the worst Jesus cosplayer. (Image courtesy of: acrossthemargin.com)
This series is littered in double meanings. The script is tightly crafted with a sense of literary and visual meaning where the ending can feel like a far too simple answer to a very complex, layered question. There's a big action set and some brief but poignant reconciliation for our characters.

While I won't call the ending perfect (What show ever really ends perfectly? There's too much shown and developed and never enough time to deliver on it all.), I love what the ending of this show accomplished. The disgusting truth is uncovered, and it is the reality of a single man who made himself a myth, a greater idea than he was a person.

He's just smart enough and powerful enough to leave scars on the leads as he goes out. Most importantly though, this final chapter allows both men to reflect on their work and the truth of both life and death. Rust finds meaning in life for the first time since his daughter passed, and Marty finds some small solace that justice has been served.
I tell you, Marty, I been up in that room looking out those windows every night here and just thinking... it's just one story, the oldest. - Rust

What's that? - Marty

Light vs. dark.

Well, I know we ain't in Alaska, but it appears to me that the dark has a lot more territory.

Yeah, you're right about that. -- You know, you're looking at it wrong, the sky I mean.

How's that?

Well, once there was only dark. If you ask me, the light's winning.
It's simple but also intense, quiet but also meaningful. In truth, True Detective Season 1 is about two imperfect men changing through the course of a strange, intense case. This season and perhaps the fundamental focus of the series is how a few good (in a relative sense) people live in this hyper-real world where everyone is wrong.

The case doesn't really matter though it can give the characters an arc to follow and reveal the truth behind the many lies. The detectives matter, so the ending is about how everything they've gone through has affected them. While there was no grand plot and threat like the mystery implied at times, there was a threat that needed to be answered and some truth to living the detectives needed to find in themselves.

True Detective Season 1 is lightning in a bottle, a blend of the perfect writing, direction, and acting. It feels like a truly classic film or novel, stretched to just the right length to capture its characters and setting with a multi-layered mystery that develops in parts through two timelines.

Television is an evolving medium, one where the technology is catching up to the big screen. I would only hope that this series was a sign of things to come, a showcase that great talents in writing and directing will gravitate toward a medium begging for true craftsmen, because this season showed how much space there is for intellectual craft on the small screen.

Grade: A+


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    • Ryan Frye