Reviews.... on hold

Just a general announcement...

I have finished my recovery and have returned to work. These days, I barely have time to watch a 30-minute TV show, let alone a 90-plus minute feature with the added hour to write and edit a rough review. It was a fun distraction that kept me from boredom, and gave me brief sense of purpose instead of lolling around in bed all day.

Once in a blue moon, I may have time to punish or praise some of the second-hand muck that is the staple of the Netflix streaming universe. Let's face it, their streaming library is not nearly as satisfying as their DVD selections; once you start exhibiting a film for profit, instead of renting the media, you have to deal with licensing, which is expensive. So I don't hold much hope for my patience. I expect Netflix will provide me with hours of background noise as I play back seasons of old TV comedies when I have 20 minutes to kill.

Until the next time I'm laid up...

House Of Card; original Netflix series, Season 2

Francis Underwood is back.

Just soak that up for a second… Speaker of the House and soon-to-be Vice President Underwood, the cagey, polished, and sinister Southern Democrat, returns in the second season of the Netflix original series. Played with distinction by the chameleon cum thespian Kevin Spacey, Underwood (heir to the typewriter’s fortune) is the king of serpents, slithering his way up the treacherous ladder of politics, his eyes set with certainty upon a power-thirsty agenda. What the first season hints at, the second delivers in terms of character development and evil politicking - but not much more.

House of Cards is based on three British series/miniseries, the first of which shares its name with the entire Netflix version, which themselves were based on a novel of the same name by Michael Dobbs. All three track the sensational rise to power of a fictional, old-school, smokey-room politicking member of Parliament, and were quite the hit on BBC. Fast-forward a few years, and the idea of an Americanized version, with Kevin Spacey attached as both actor and producer, was sold to Netflix as the video-streaming company began its venture into original programming.

The first season followed Underwood as he schemed and plotted his way from House Whip to being appointed Vice President, but wrapped before he was sworn in. There was, as expected in a political drama, stories of backstabbing, abuse of power, graft, collusion, and political mayhem in the underbelly of the Capitol. Nobody is spared a part in the orchestra that Underwood conducts; and when a flat note interrupts his well-crafted plan, that player pays dearly.

Sadly, the day-to-day drama of political shopping and constituent/client pandering becomes humdrum and repetitive no matter how exceptional the cast. Even the notable West Wing, which helped define a new school of political drama, eventually suffered from the same fate – politics just isn’t that interesting. It’s the side stories, whether personal corruptions deeper than a bank account, or acts of extraordinary nobility and humanity, that make the stories of politics interesting.

The first season avoided the trite by providing an exceptional foil to Underwood’s ambitions in the form of an unstoppable pixie, cub reporter Zoe Barnes (Kate Mara), whose off-the-record relationship with Underwood gives her an inside source; and him, a pawn with which to manipulate the press. They feed off each other, not just in terms of their symbiotic/parasitic relationship, but in their performances; each keeps raising the bar in their scenes together. Add other newsroom characters, including editors and jealous reporters, stir vigorously, and the entire fifth estate plays cat-and-mouse with Frank. But Zoe learns a little to late that Underwood is actually the cat.

With a deft performance as the aloof Claire Underwood, Robin Wright provides a dependable, nearly blank cypher in the series. Usually following in her husband’s wake, she steers afield with an urgent need for independence, which are slaked for reasons never fully explored. Their open, somewhat deviant marriage allows them to slip in and out of dalliances like so many overcoats, letting both use sex as another tool in the political arsenal.

The first season was a coup d'etat, attracting enough critical acclaim and popular appeal that the new and unorthodox demographic of streaming media consumers made a statement that has since frightened cable TV. Netflix confounded the establishment by releasing 12 hours of content at once. Binge viewers could digest an entire season if they had the stamina to spend an entire day in front of the television, and David Fincher’s exercise in using television as the medium gave rise to a highly anticipated second season.

And the season just didn’t deliver.

As seems so consistent with trilogies, be it JRR Tolkien adaptations or even the grand-daddy Star Wars trilogy, the middle episode languishes much like a second act left to stand on it own. Both are bereft of comparably interesting storylines, and instead serve as development vehicles between the opening and closing films/seasons. Ask die-hard Star Wars fans that list the Empire Strikes Back as their favorite why, and they usually profess to be fans of the character development.

It doesn’t take very long, but in short order, Vice President Underwood marginalizes the entire antagonistic game with the newspapers. Gone is the threat of press exposure; all of Frank’s problems now come from within the beltway political machine. Instead of worrying about scandal, the plot gets wrapped up in the tedium of playing petty, incestuous politics in the name of unbridled ambition.

Little by little, the characters who were once likable or sympathetic in the first season sprout a hard layer of callus, losing their appeal in the process. The second seasons presents few likable new characters in this fictional Washington. Even news reporters are more informed, and antagonistic, than realistically expected. Claire quickly loses her ambiguity, as do the West Wing players. Nobody is innocent, nobody is clean, and nobody can avoid the evil.

And that is the man in the center of the ring. Not Keyeser Soze, but a man far more ambitious and perhaps more cunning; in other words, a role tailored for Kevin Spacey. But to weave a story about an evil, unsympathetic character, the opposite needs to be supplied in abundance to both provide relief and to serve as a yardstick. It doesn’t matter how well a bad guy is played; an audience needs somebody to like for comparison.

That’s not to say there aren’t some wonderful scenes through the run of the second season. There are plenty of smart set pieces that give Spacey and the ensemble cast the chance to show their chops. But no performance can overcome a flawed season. The audience needs someone to cheer for; and even though Underwood is the smartest, craftiest, and most powerful player in the first person, there is nothing inherently attractive about his sinister character, except for a sophisticated classiness than separates him from the rest of scum in the pond.

In essence, the only force compelling anyone to watch Underwood’s antics is the unspoken question at the center of it all: why is Frank Underwood doing all of this? There is an undercurrent of something greater afoot than mere personal ambition in the political arena; a faint aroma of a quiet plot brewing through the first two seasons and readying an explosive final season. It’s much like how Empire Strikes Back bridged the gap between Star Wars and Return of the Jedi.

Although a significant letdown in my own peculiar opinion, I get the feeling this season, like politics, is a necessary evil. Not nearly as fun or easy to watch as the first season (but still much better than most weekend television), it’s still sprinkled with memorable moments and first-rate performances that outshine most network and premium cable channel offerings alike.

Better than any show about housewives, but not nearly as strong as its first season, its still a rewarding trip, whether seen on its own or in the context of the series as a whole. Just don’t expect to be quite as impressed, and be prepared to sit through some plodding storylines that just don’t move as seamlessly as in the first season. Were anyone but Spacey leading the charge, it would fall under its own heavy weight. But his presence and sheer talent keeps this ship afloat, so the political wrangling can continue for a third season.