On Being Too Serious (Or, Why True Detective Sucks)

by Charity Erickson

I’ll get right down to disagreeing with the general critical community at large: True Detective—which debuted on HBO in January—sucks. In it, Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson star as two very serious men (playing against type—the party trick of the whole thing) investigating a series of gruesome killings with a strange religious component in the deep South. Meanwhile, a Moral-Majority-type pastor with political ties and possibly sinister motives is pressuring them to solve the case quickly. (Also: drugs, alcohol, and boobies! Just what puts the "premium" in cable television.)

It critiques religion and Western myths of progress, but it does so in a ponderous, self-satisfied, heavy-handed sort of way. The show stretches out over long, slow scenes of plot-less dialogue. And whenever we are treated to some action, the ominous tenor of the show shoots straight into melodrama. The show is trying to do a lot--too much. In consequence, it becomes quite tedious to watch.

Considering how seriously the show takes itself, it is disappointing that it’s so inept in its portrayal of religious life. It confuses the language, iconography, and general practices of Catholic and Pentecostal traditions, throwing together elements of one or the other wherever it serves the show’s argument that religious folks are hypocritical, delusional, and even mentally-disabled, criminal deviants (as McConaughey’s Detective Cohle suggests regarding a particular suspect—chew on the problematic insinuation of that claim, will you).

In one critical scene, a young girl describes a man (presumably the deranged murderer sought by our true detectives) who looked like a "spaghetti monster," an allusion to an infamous parody of creationism. The show is setting up religion as the villain, and its critique is neither nuanced nor inspired. We've seen this a hundred times before, and I'm just kind of over it.

But this isn’t even my biggest problem with the show. I can handle critiques of Christianity. I applaud them, actually (and all the more if they are in any way thoughtful). What I really can’t handle about True Detective is its utter lack of humor. When I think of other shows that have successfully explored the dark tendencies of human nature and society—and have done so in a way that I found enjoyable to watch—I think of commonly-regarded masterpieces such as Game of Thrones, Dexter, and The Wire. (Honorable mentions: The Killing--certainly doesn't deserve its bad rap--and Call the Midwife. Does that ruin my badass list? Crap.) These programs feature characters whose “types” are distinct enough to be played against for the sake of humor, yet are also complex enough to be interesting.

There is something almost too wonderful about stories that manage to be honest about the bleak state of human existence while at the same time moving us to delight in the people who inhabit the stories’ worlds. The levity we enjoy in the midst of these dark worlds isn’t just about lightened tension or added entertainment value; it’s about the deep sense of relief in experiencing and knowing that in a grim reality, joy is possible. This confirms our deepest hopes, and it rings so true that it aches. One may experience the world as bleak and without joy, but we want—we need—to believe this isn’t a permanent situation. Light can eventually break through, even when only through the narrowest of cracks. 
 
A story that presents a bleak world without joy is just as false as the saccharin clichés of a Lifetime holiday movie. The dark and the light need each other in order for us to see each for what it truly is; and even a small, faint light can relieve a great darkness.

So, this is why True Detective sucks.

Post-Script: As I was ranting on this topic to a friend, he looked down and was clearly distraught. He looked up and said, “I am so sad you don’t watch Breaking Bad.” Apparently, if one can get just a few episodes past the dissolving bathtub and whatnot, it gets…funny? Perhaps we shall see. Stay tuned, friends. 

Charity Erickson and her husband live and work together in the north woods of Minnesota. Check out her blog for more of her writing and follow her on Twitter @CharityJill.

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology. If you'd like to support what we do, you can donate via the button on the right of the screen.

Image Credits:
Image #1 via Wikipedia
Image #2 via Wikipedia
Image #3 via George Bremer 
    

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On Being Enlightened

Enlightened starring Laura Dern

by Charity Erickson

HBO’s Enlightened was cancelled last month after two short seasons on the air. (Two very short seasons; there are only 18 episodes in the series, total.) I mourned for it as one might for a not-un-expected death; I binge-watched the entire first season while consuming an entire bag of ginger chews.

My feelings for the show are complicated. They are similar to my feelings for another much-beloved show that will likely be cancelled this year, ABC’s Happy Endings. When I watch these shows, I regularly find myself thinking, “These people are so annoying. Why do I adore them so?” And then I take out my exasperation on a ginger chew.

The truth is that I identify with challenging characters in an intimate way, since I too regularly find myself on the receiving end of squinty side-eyes. Something about me, I guess; I draw them like a magnet.

So, when Enlightened’s protagonist Amy Jellicoe (Laura Dern)—a high-strung idealist imperfectly pursuing positive life change—gives an impassioned speech about immigration reform at a baby shower intending to inspire her coworkers, but instead incurring their ire, I can chuckle even as I cringe with pained recognition. (I may have done something similar at my last family Thanksgiving.)

Enlightened paints a painfully recognizable portrait of the “ordinary radical,” at times revering and at other times lampooning Amy’s intensity as she attempts to “be the change she wants to see in the world” while working at the corporate headquarters for an evil pharmacy chain—“Abaddon.” (A word familiar to me only by its mention in Old Testament footnotes. If I remember correctly, my NIV Teen Study Bible said it means “destruction.”)

Mel and Mike White

Though Enlightened’s creator, writer, and cast member Mike White is not speaking specifically to the Christian paradigm, it certainly informs his work. He is the son of the Rev. Dr. Mel White—who I was shocked to recognize from a Philip Yancey study video—an evangelical pastor who came out as gay in 1994 and now ministers to LGBT Christians. In interviews, Mike White talks about his father and seeing the self-serving side to justice work; the conceit of activism is a major thematic vein on Enlightened.

White says on “Fresh Air” with Terry Gross, “Amy reminds me of my father in a lot of ways…when he came out he wanted to, in a sense, make restitution for having participated in the world of the, kind of, right-wing religious extremism…he wanted to tell these…father figures to him how much they are hurting him and the other…gay children in the religious world. And at the same time it was also important, like Amy, to not just do good but to be seen as being good. Because that part of it…it was his own struggle to feel like he's worthy and worthwhile.”

On the show, Amy’s initial transformation—while we know she genuinely wants to change—is nevertheless a bit of a pose, intended to prove to those around her (and to herself) that she has changed, or even more, that she has become a better person. She modifies her hair, clothes, and cadence of speech to project a sense of inner-calm, while right alongside her Zen ambitions, real ambitions simmer; as do other less-lovely motivations, such as envy, revenge, and simple escapism. Of course, other characters see right through her; but to Amy, putting on this other identity is important for her sense of self-esteem. It’s not that she is being false; she is being complex, actually complex—not contradictory—which is what makes her a fantastic character.

And oh, how I get this. One summer during college, when I was trying to get away from evangelicalism-as-usual, I moved into a loosely Christian community house. I started wearing a flowy, earth-toned sundress without a bra underneath. Partly because it fit the more beautiful identity I wanted for myself, partly because I got it for free (therefore I was sort-of protesting consumerism, right?) and partly because I thought I might get asked out by some young bohemian. It was a symbol that helped me feel a certain way about myself; but in the end it was just a brown maternity dress that really needed to be paired with a bra. (Save it. I just side-eyed myself.)

Shane Claiborne

See, the tragicomic portrayal of justice work in Enlightened speaks more to my reality than any teary, beautiful Shane Claiborne story—which I also love, but for different, more aspirational reasons. In my experience with Christian service, the beauty always seems a little harder to find. You know, like when you finally get the hoarder who you are trying to help move to give away the t-shirts she found in the garbage, and you get her to her new place, only to find that it is a motel that rents by the hour. Or like when you get turned away from helping at the soup kitchen. Or like when you’re at a prayer meeting that turns real weird.

Enlightened provides a cathartic outlet for the aspiring radicals out there working so hard to “bring the kingdom on earth as it is in heaven,” who have come to find that their efforts don’t always bring memoir-worthy results. More importantly for the Christian-culture-at-large, however, is its portrayal of the complexity, nuance, absurdity, and ultimately, the beauty of “radical” living. Such a view provides us a necessary counterbalance to other, more agenda-driven visions and reminds us that we are never as enlightened as we think we are.

Charity Erickson and her husband Lance live and work together in the suburbs of Minneapolis, Minnesota. Check out her blog for more of her writing and follow her on Twitter @CharityJill.

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.
 
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Game of Thrones

by Jonathan Harrison

Jonathan here. After my last post, I decided to take a meditation retreat in the Rocky Mountains where I learned, from my mentor, that although I cannot control the inanity of reality shows on TLC, I can control my reaction to them. Since my enjoyment of life directly correlates to the way I react to things, if I want to find peace, I must first seek peace with Honey Boo Boo, TLC, and minute long trailers that glorify ATV accidents, and know that only love can answer all my problems.

Or something like that.

Anyways, all that meditation gave me plenty of free time for my recent guilty pleasure: George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire which you know as Game of Thrones.

Since you don't have much time, and the series takes up a couple thousand pages, I'm going to condense the first book and a half into a few sentence fragments: A midget. A wall. War. The Others. Knights. Kings. And lots and lots of hookers.

Yes. Lots and lots of sex. Granted, the first book never gets too gratuitous, so I don't feel guilty when "the Martin" writes something to the effect of, "And then yonder boy went off to visit wenches," (NOT AN ACTUAL SENTENCE IN BOOK) because I don't view the mention of sex as sinful.

But the HBO drama. Good Lord. Wow. 

The series sort of lulls you into complacency and then *BAM* girls start taking off their clothes and before you know it you're checking to see if you need to close the blinds behind your computer lest you get cited for breaking some sort of indecency ordinance.

In fact just this past Sunday I was having a conversation with a friend from church that went something like this:

"I'm currently reading Game of Thrones"
"Really"
"Yea"
"Do you like the T.V. show?"
"Yea. I think it does a good job of eliminating minor characters and humanizing the more evil charictures in the book"
"Yea. I just wish it wasn't basically a porno"
"..."

So is Game of Thrones sinful?

I'm going to go out on a limb here, and maybe tick off some people in the process, and say yes.  Yes it is

In my life, I've often struggled with the cognitive dissonance of good art versus my morality. In our daily lives, we'd like to believe that if something has artistic merit, then the artistry offsets any sinful complications. I struggle with this notion. I struggle with it a lot.

The major problem, to me, is that as American Christians we've all but ignored this difficult question. We like our ability to enjoy good art, and because we do, very few people (usually only fundamentalists) ask if watching X show is worth the risk.

Consequently, we'll also come up with reasons why watching X show or reading X book is worth it. Isn't this funny? As Christians, shouldn't we willingly ditch anything that has even a modicum of sinfulness, no matter how great its artistic merit?

I realize I'm raising all sorts of difficult questions on the nature of sin and what dictates whether something is sinful or not. Different people struggle with different things, but I personally don't need to see 15 pairs of breasts on a daily basis. I just don't. I'm as hetero as hetero can be and I plan on being married some day, but as a Non-Medical Professional Christian American Male (NMPCAM) that number shouldn't be that high.

Wait, Ben, how many people read this blog on a daily basis?

Anyways. Most of you probably pick up what I'm putting down. I'm also extremely hypocritical on this one, but I wanted to ask the question since it's a question that almost no one asks. Is good art worth the risk if it might cause us to stumble? Am I totally off base? Am I letting my right-wing, fanatic evangelical upbringing taint my viewpoint of reality and Jesus? Or am I trying to gain the whole world at the risk of losing my soul? Um. Leave your opinions in the comment section?

Jonathan Harrison has a bee in his kitchen and he can't get the darn thing out of the house.  If you know anyone that wants a bee, please let him know by commenting on his blog that he hasn't updated since late July over at Dried Humor.  Also read Libranding if you want to.

Update: Bee has been moved out of the house and is rather ticked but will eventually figure out how to get out of the gladware container with the stick under it.

Update to the update: Bee figured it out.