Down in the Treme
Jason and I watched the season finale of Treme tonight.
As I've mentioned before, I wasn't able to get into The Wire. The first episode of Treme didn't really grab me, either, but I found myself thinking about it over the next few days--a good sign that there's something there--so I decided I would stick with it through the season, unless it managed to actually drive me away. By the third episode I was utterly hooked.
Treme is different from any show I have ever watched. When it comes to tv, I tend to game the system. I have a good sense of the constraints of the medium, the common tropes, the business case. I usually solve police procedurals well ahead of the protagonists, just because there are conventions that must be satisfied. Treme has surprised me again and again. No character is a type. No one is simple. Reactions are unpredictable. Over and over again, the writing has surprised and fascinated me.
The acting is a thing of wonder for a director like me. Watching these people work is a privilege. They are not pretending--they are portraying. The dividing line between the actors and the guest performers is imperceptible and the texture with which each of the main characters' lives are drawn is real and messy and beautiful.
The technical work is amazing. Many of the shots are worthy of framing. The sets and the costumes are so rich and real that I forget sometimes that I am watching fiction. The locations and the extras and every single detail of every shot is unbelievable.
And above all, beneath all, surrounding every moment is the city of New Orleans. The music, the food, the language, the many overlapping, interpenetrating cultures infuse every scene, every breath.
I haven't wept for a television character's pain in years, but tonight I was there, more than once. And yet this is not a sad show--there is great joy and creativity and energy amid the destruction and grief and frustration. This is a beautiful work of art and I am so glad that I can share in it.
As I've mentioned before, I wasn't able to get into The Wire. The first episode of Treme didn't really grab me, either, but I found myself thinking about it over the next few days--a good sign that there's something there--so I decided I would stick with it through the season, unless it managed to actually drive me away. By the third episode I was utterly hooked.
Treme is different from any show I have ever watched. When it comes to tv, I tend to game the system. I have a good sense of the constraints of the medium, the common tropes, the business case. I usually solve police procedurals well ahead of the protagonists, just because there are conventions that must be satisfied. Treme has surprised me again and again. No character is a type. No one is simple. Reactions are unpredictable. Over and over again, the writing has surprised and fascinated me.
The acting is a thing of wonder for a director like me. Watching these people work is a privilege. They are not pretending--they are portraying. The dividing line between the actors and the guest performers is imperceptible and the texture with which each of the main characters' lives are drawn is real and messy and beautiful.
The technical work is amazing. Many of the shots are worthy of framing. The sets and the costumes are so rich and real that I forget sometimes that I am watching fiction. The locations and the extras and every single detail of every shot is unbelievable.
And above all, beneath all, surrounding every moment is the city of New Orleans. The music, the food, the language, the many overlapping, interpenetrating cultures infuse every scene, every breath.
I haven't wept for a television character's pain in years, but tonight I was there, more than once. And yet this is not a sad show--there is great joy and creativity and energy amid the destruction and grief and frustration. This is a beautiful work of art and I am so glad that I can share in it.