After watching Daredevil, I couldn't shake the feeling there was something unusual about the series. I thought the casting was fabulous, stylistically it was beautiful, but it was.... different.
Then I realized it was the unusual narrative structure that had caught my attention. Daredevil felt more like a miniseries, despite the thirteen-episode order. Episodic television on a traditional network relies more on standalone elements. Sure, there are storylines that traverse an entire season, but a lot of other mini narrative arcs are happening within the framework.
In Daredevil, these elements were kept to a minimum. Not because the material is sourced from a comic book (as some might argue) but I'm presuming here, because this is a stylistic storytelling choice: the program is written specifically for the Netflix format. Audiences were never expected/required to wait a week between episodes.
In audience's minds, a week is quite a long time for fresh fodder and it's possible this is how intricate, multilayered television became synonymous with success: a need for closure (in regards to subplots) ensured audiences continued to tune in. Now there is no need to wait, and the story flows on from the point the last episode left off.
Another recent Netflix offering, Being Kimmy Schmidt, left me with a similar impression. The show didn't feel exactly like a traditional sitcom. Requisite elements were there, but structurally there was a shift. And once again, the storytelling experience was immediate and ongoing, the first season merging into (potentially) one complete viewing experience.
While it can be argued there are other earlier examples of this practice as an emerging storytelling trend for TV-style shows, I think Netflix's hit offerings are true indicators that demand demarcation of the practice as commercially successful/viable: conscious, confident stylistic choices deliberately adopted and presented by an ever-growing platform. Sure, they're trying a lot of different programs out for size this year, but at present the type of storytelling structure I've referenced seems a recurring thread through their latest successes.
Prior to this the most notable TV-related trend was the rise in popularity of HBO programming. HBO shows were imbued with filmic traits perceived by audiences as measures of "quality". In a sense, their shows chewed up and spat out the idea scripted television was a lesser medium than cinema by imbuing "small" screen offerings with "big" screen elements. Jumpstarting a tired format forced the medium to experience an evolutionary jump. But rather than moving toward the expected web-style brevity, their shows were longer and in most cases more complex than scripted television of the time. People were brought up on the idea you paid for cinema because it was better, and HBO cleverly utilized this ingrained belief.
There's no denying changes in technology and available mediums have resulted in experiments in format, and online series have become a medium all their own. The idea of the web series, for example, is in a constant state of flux and experimentation. Definitely a medium of the future, but at this point it can be argued one that hasn't yet evolved in a practical business sense to hold as large a share of the market (monetarily) as it presumably will. (At present more traditional television networks often produce webisodes as adjuncts to their television programs, like an advanced form of a promotional tool for an existing series, rather than as standalone products.)
One of the most interesting web series (in the sense it stuck in my mind) was H+. Possibly because before this I had always equated a web series with a low budget. Theoretically the short episodes should have appealed, but the glossy quality and the extremely short episodic structure seemed to confuse people more than anything else. Interesting to note viewers had network-specific expectations of the project: rather than flocking to a program that offered traditionally more filmic elements in a web series medium, the general public seemed stumped by the entertainment experiment. "It felt like HBO, but it kept stopping and starting." (Perhaps because in a storytelling sense the narrative felt divided between episodes, an approach not quite in sync with storytelling trends at that point?)
At present, the style of scripted television Netflix is tweaking is clearly the next stage in an ever-changing viewing process. DVDs and the downloading of a series's entire back catalogue gave audiences a taste for a total experience of a TV program, but still, fans had to wait for each single episode to screen through the traditional medium first. Now even that stepping stone is bypassed.
Which begs the question; will scripted network television follow the one-season-one-unit trend? With NBC offering all 13 episodes of Duchovny's new program Aquarius after the screening of the pilot, signs are starting to point to yes. Transitioning to the offer of a series experience as a single unit boasting immediate availability is a nod to changing expectations and viewing habits, if not preferences.
Instant gratification has become a huge part of the online experience (across a number of entertainment forms). Scripted entertainment is slowly moving toward both recognition of this and the subsequent development, and adoption, of marketing approaches that will address these expectations. (On a side note, the term of the moment is "binge-watching" but to be honest I think the idea is already dating. Binge implies gorging to excess, but only within the framework of one hour viewing as the accepted norm, an idea that's slowly but surely on its way out.)
The evolution of small screen storytelling—whether that's a TV screen, laptop or smartphone—is extremely interesting to monitor (ha) in today's world.
Pretty Little Liars is so much more than a teen show. The best three word description would be meta, meta, META.
I watch a lot of television because I'm working on a pilot script, and PLL is one show that teaches you a hell of a lot about entertaining storytelling. The production team messes with viewers, turning familiar tropes into tricks (#likearabbitoutofahat), playing the audience over and over.
...A little like the way Alison, "A", and Mona manipulate the girls onscreen, come to think of it. O_O
For those who haven't seen the series, take the time to catch up! Here are fifty reasons to binge-watch before season six hits (with a whole heap of random and pointless tribute hashtags from me). Be warned, newbies who start watching are in for a wild, curly-haired, paranoid, toe-curling, diabolical, adrenalized ride.*
*Avid fans will love the list too, btw. #wereallinthistogether
THE LIST OF REASONS YOU NEED TO GET ONBOARD THE GOOD SHIP PLL
50. Mona isn't the only one "living in a state of hyperreality". That basically sums up the entire Rosewood experience. #thistowniswhack
Word.
49. Dolls, dolls, more creepy dolls. And there's a doll repair shop. (Makes sense, with a local doll population of about fifty million.) Standard retail outlet in most American states, right? #itsadollsworldoutthere
The eyes follow you O_O
48. THERE IS LITERALLY A LIFE-SIZED DOLLHOUSE. Okay, you have to hang in a few years to get there, but it's worth it. #Charlesisbatshitcraycray
47. Sasha Pieterse plays teen sociopath Alison magnificently. Seriously, the kid gives you chills. Turns out she was twelve in the pilot. #madprops
46. They use the lake to good effect. Although sometimes I mistake it for a river. And I think it keeps moving? Now I just imagine Rosewood has an enormous moat around it. Like a water version of The Dome, except instead of keeping people out, it slows the passing of time. O_O
You've changed, Jason.
45. Sometimes characters leave town and come back entirely different people. I think this is because they are their own great-great grandchildren (see reason 5). Or it could be a hereditary issue everyone's too polite to mention since it only happens to the DiLaurentis bloodline. #legitreasoning
Stop creating onscreen sexual tension with
everyone Tyler Blackburn.
44. Contains the most unrealistic representation of hacking since the movie Hackers. And I love it. #needsmorecyberfashion
43. Unlike real high school, you'll never get tired of seeing the same faces over and over because people come to school for a while, and are never seen again. #wemissyouHolden
Where For Art Thou Holden?
42. Janel Parrish owns every scene she appears in. #monakicksass
41. There are more classic film references than you could throw a severed head in a hat box at. #hereslookingatyouByron
We need to talk about...
Whoever the hell this is.
40. Explores misdirection and misrepresentation. Think doppelganger references, mirror images, lots of mask-wearing, people impersonating each other, and for the final seasons I'm predicting twins. (Oh and not forgetting that time all the cool kids got face casts.) #itwasjustaphase #seeingdoubleispartofthistownscharm
39. Includes straight, gay, and bisexual characters. For the teens, it's no big deals. Mostly the adults are the drama queens. #progressive
This was supposed to be a photo of
Toby in his police uniform but I got distracted.
38. It's a dysfunctional procedural, in the sense the town has a terrible police force. Pinky swear these are real questions from the Rosewood Police Academy application form (I have my sources):
-Ever illegally videotaped underage girls? Bonus points if you can describe this activity in Latin.
-Ever swapped evidence for sex?
-Ever flirted with an underager?
-Ever served time for accidentally blinding your stepsister?
On the bright side, supposedly murdered people can turn up alive, so it balances out. #anydaynowMaya
We're still waiting. :(
37. You could go the rest of your life only quoting Pretty Little Liars dialogue (prepare to sound awesome) and never run out of cool things to say. For me the show's best-of script moments are up there with Twin Peaks and Buffy The Vampire Slayer. #wittyquips
36. The greatest mystery will always be whether or not Aria will eventually be eaten alive by her own enormous accessories. #feathersforthewin
It's like Tippi's family are living in her hair.
35. You get to see the father characters on the show vie for the title of most entertaining hypocrite. (PLL teaches us all dads are dodgy, unless they're in the army.) #rosewoodisnotamansworld
34. So. Much. Food. Everyone talks about being hungry, but rarely does a character eat. The constant meals become random installation art. What does it all mean? Are they metaphorical? Or like the potions in Alice In Wonderland? Will people shrink? Will eating have crazy side effects? Maybe that's how they're holding back time...
I know, it's all so pretty.
33. Speaking of time, I don't think it's a coincidence the time traveller from 12 Monkeys also works part-time as a teacher in Rosewood. #conspiracytheories #redleaftea
32. Shay Mitchell as Emily does the best shocked face ever seen on television. Repeatedly. For, like, years now. Never gets blasé about reveals. #Shaybringsit
See? Emily wins at "shocked".
31. Teenagers on this show have been played by 12-32 year olds. Meaning actresses could be playing high schoolers alongside their own kids. #mindblown
Sorry, I forgot what I was talking about.
30. An actor with Universal Chemistry can create sexual tension with anyone. Take Tyler Blackburn as Caleb. His prime UC examples include:
- Visiting his girlfriend's mother in prison. That got weird fast.
-Police interrogation room scene with Garrett and Wilden that had an unexpected three-way vibe.
-The many times he could have run off with Toby. Or Spencer. Or Toby and Spencer. (Calobencer?)
-The argument with Ezra at his cabin that seemed to be leading to possible hate sex.
-Early conversation with Emily where I wished they'd get hotdogs together and hook up, before remembering Emily is gay.
-The many times I thought Lucas was going to mack on Caleb and announce he's gay. #blackburnisababe
This whole episode is a work of art.
(And I wish I knew some classic cinema slang to leave here.)
29. There is a noir episode! Trust me, it's as amazing as you'd imagine... #nothingisblackandwhiteohwait #MYGODTHEFASHION
28. Tippi the bird (or should I say, talking bird) is the true star of PLL. #bringbacktippi #expositionkickoffdoneright
World's Coolest Bird.
Even A loved Tippi!
27. PLL takes that awful feeling you get in high school when someone bullies you, and times' it by ten hundred thousand million. (A must be great on Twitter, what with sticking to a character limit. Those threatening texts are tight.) #theartofthewellwrittensociopath
26. No one in Rosewood can dress appropriately for a funeral. (Dress Code: Hyperreality.) #shesinfashion
25. The lady from Charmed is in the show (and has a lot of onscreen chemistry with the actor who plays her daughter's boyfriend). #hollymariecombs #hotmama
Mona hangin' out at her fave holiday B and B.
24. This town has a weird interpretation of traditional institutions. Prison means working full-time as a dry cleaner, and the sanitarium Radley is like a bizarre bed and breakfast with board games. #mightwannaresearchthat #notquitethebelljar
23. EP and Showrunner I. Marlene King posts and offers hints in interviews that are clever and will keep you guessing. #understoodinhindsight
22. PLL can be used to teach classmates/workmates the importance of backing up digital material. Otherwise you risk losing precious hours of work and becoming a suspect in an ongoing murder investigation. #truestory
It was a sad foreshadowing that
Jenna wore dark sunglasses on Halloween.
21. You can join the rest of us in feeling bad for Jenna. I mean, come on, Alison blinded her (and not in a metaphorical didn't-see-that-coming way). #bitchcansee
World's No. 1 Mom
20. Sit back and enjoy the worst onscreen-parenting-masquerading-as-decent-parenting since Gossip Girl. (We miss you Lily and Rufus). Ashley is the winner. Her supposed awesomeness includes:
-Sleeping with a corrupt cop while her daughter is home to get said daughter off shoplifting charges. WTF.
-Running over said officer with her car before fleeing the scene. The excuse? He made verbal threats against her child.
-Lying to cops about her whereabouts during a murder investigation.
-Stealing huge amounts of money from an elderly customer at the bank where she works.
-Cheating on her pastor boyfriend with the brother of a murder suspect her daughter is arrested for colluding with.
#motheroftheyear #feelthelove
Hanna made a fabulous Marilyn.
19. Speaking of Gossip Girl, that show's got nothing on the social calendar of Rosewood. Forget the Big Apple: this crazy, tiny, timeless town has more social events each season than Paris. Better yet, teens are welcome! From an underground party at changing locations to endless themed balls. A Western boot scootin' get-together. A Halloween train party. Even glamping. You can model wedding dresses at a home showing. Or wear your dead friend's clothes in a runway show. #hadtobethere
18. Feeling bad about making out with someone who isn't your boyfriend/girlfriend? Don't. The Pretty Little Liars do it all the time and it works out totally fine. #wewereonabreak
17. Rosewood is known for its quality therapy. #SOJOKING
Seriously, she fell like a meter.
People fall further in gym class playing dodge ball.
16. PLL's continuing exploration of the space/time continuum gets you thinking about the big questions. Like when Aria pushes Shana in New York, you too will wonder how a girl can die falling off a stage. Is gravity different in the big city?? #neverleaveRosewood
15. Join the rest of us and alternate between Spencer and Hanna as your favorite Liar. #troianandashleyrock
This wasn't weird at all.
14. You might think this show is bananas but I heard bananas don't like to be affiliated with it. #wildrep
13. Play spotto finding questionable body doubles (usually around the same time as a slow motion edit). Examples include Emily's muscly swimming double during a race scene, and Hannah's double when getting hit by a car. Possibly a double for Noel when he knocks over the ice tray/body remains on the train? #couldbewrong #thatshalfthefun
12. You'll enjoy the soundtrack. The show has great tunes in the mix and an addictive opener by The Pierces. #twocankeepasecretifoneofthemisdead
A sure does like to play.
11. If you like games, well, this entire show is a game. #helovesmehelovesmenot #checkmate
10. Your own dubious taste in lovers won't seem so bad when you realize Little Miss Perfect (the character Melissa Hastings), married a guy who tried to murder her sister, unknowingly made out with her half-brother, and that's before you even get to Garrett and Wren... #ifeelbetteralready
I won't lie: Alison scares me even without a knife.
9. Fans of flashbacks will love PLL. (Note: Flashforwards apparently coming up too.) Flashbacks to the night Alison "died" make it clear her house was THE hotspot in town. This kid is quite the multi-tasker. Jokes aside, the PLL lot are skilled craftsman when it comes to well handled flashbacks. They shape, then reveal and reshape the past—over and over. #niceuseofastorytellingdevice
8. Watching episodes means you can listen to the fantastic podcast recaps by @BrosWatchPLLToo and read the many associated blogs online, because let's face it, PLL is a recappers dream. #metamania
7. Did I mention there are psychics? Occasional magic shows? Mannequins? Some creepy puppets at a carnival? Body parts that reappear at random? #WHATMOREDOYOUPEOPLENEED
Something tells me this isn't going to end well.
6. Rosewood is the one place avoiding a guy because he gives you a dodgy vibe isn't paranoia, it's a necessary life skill. If you think your ex is a creepster wait till you meet Ezra. #fortheteacherfestishists
5. You'll love how the crimes pile up till you get distracted, like the characters, by the next reveal. People are presumed dead, then not dead, then charged with murder then released and murdered, then missing, then presumed alive, then found dead, then one murder turns out to be a different person's murder, then someone who thought she'd covered up a murder ends up murdered, or the actual murderer... and who you think did each murder changes till you forget to keep up and wish you had a whiteboard. #RosewoodisthenewCabotCove
4. PLL has striking cinematography and editing. Obvious time is put into making the series visually interesting. And Norman Buckley directs a lot of episodes. #morethanenoughreasontowatch
3. The teens of Rosewood build better stalker picture/info walls than most serial killers on cop shows. Or FBI profilers. Their surveillance skills are topnotch. I'm starting to wonder if it's part of the curriculum. #attentiontodetail #kidsthesedays
Cause that's not creepy.
2. It could be argued PLL says, don't let age hold you back: with the help of a fake ID you can date older men, hire private detectives, get into bars, take on corrupt cops, and solve murders. On the flipside, this kind of behavior does lead to a prison sentence and subsequent kidnapping for our heroes. #sokindacarpediemmaybe #nowImnotsosure
Prom's never as good you imagine it will be...
Even less so when you've been abducted.
1. While it can be fun, when this show gets dark, it gets hella dark. Bats in the belfry psychological torture/physical captivity/near-death experiences mother freakin' dark. The stakes climb higher with each season. I'm almost scared for the girls at this point, considering how many episodes are left on the schedule. Who thought Alison would be better off than all of them? Especially considering she started the series dead O_O #nomorefuneralsplease #sixsixsixseasonimean
...That was in no particular order, btw. See you back at the Dollhouse, Pretty Little Liars! xx
Writers of a television show adapted from a comic are writing for two very different audiences: avid fans of an already existing narrative, and those who've never read the comics and therefore need to be introduced to each element of the story. Writing about comic-based television shows online while declaring a complete ignorance of the source material feels somewhat risque. Critiquing comic-based shows is often viewed as the domain of comic book fans. But as an aspiring tv writer and avid consumer of scripted television, I think my opinion is just as relevant, especially when you take into account the companies screening such programs are hoping to secure more than a niche audience.
I've thought about this topic a lot following the release of Daredevil and the subsequent tweets and posts in my social media feed. For me, Daredevil had a great freshman season. The series has a confident style (I think establishing a visual/editorial style is a key element of success on tv these days, but that's another blog). The script was strong, free from chunks of clumsy exposition, and the acting was high calibre. Yet I didn't find it groundbreaking or magnificent, like so many comic fans claimed. Scanning the reaction of comic fans to comic-based television shows seems to be a lesson in extremes, a rollercoaster ride of highs and lows. Often when they're onboard it's in the form of overzealous praise. Good doesn't really exist; everything about the show becomes magnificent, incredible, unbelievable. On the other hand, disappoint them with your television interpretation of an adored character and the criticism can be scathing: no redeeming qualities acknowledged. Trying to discuss a program by putting forward a mix of positive and negative reactions to different elements of the production can become tedious, and prove nigh on impossible. (Also because source material is so often cited in conversation, which means nothing to a viewer who draws a distinct line between the two mediums.) I haven't read any of the comics that provide the inspiration for the television programs I'm watching. Experiencing the story only in a television format made me understand how vast the gap between the uninformed viewer and the informed viewer can become.
You might argue films and television series' adapted from books are in a similar boat, but generally they don't seem to incite the same level of extreme reactions you encounter when discussing comic adaptations.
On watching The Vampire Diaries, my first reaction was apathy bordering on dislike for the lead character Elena, apparently a reworked version of the Elena found in the original novel. (I think the dreaded "relatable female character" trope came into play—another blog for another day!) I didn't feel compelled to read the books because watching the show as a separate entity has become more standard procedure for book-to-tv transformations.
Looking back, I experienced the same comic fan/non-comic fan conundrum when Arrow hit the small screen. The show was entertaining, beautifully done, and I loved Stephen Amell in the lead role. But many fans focused solely on disparate elements between the comics and the small screen: how his character was costumed differently, and his kill count. Commenting on the television show as a stand-alone experience wasn't really welcome online.
In a way, I felt like I wasn't part of the fan base for the show because I couldn't discuss what happened in Issue Whatever of the comics compared to what was unfolding on the small screen. On the other hand, becoming a hit series involves turning casual viewers into avid fans, separate to the comic-saturated portion of the fan base. It's the only way to pull big ratings, meaning my feedback was just as valid/of worth, even if it didn't feel that way.
The Flash is another example. Grant Gustin is brilliantly cast, as are most of the supporting roles. I think the show itself skews younger than Arrow, and I think it works. The series has heart, and an earnest sort of youthful optimism. The concept of the mentor is also a big theme. The Flash has it's own definitive style that comes together to create an entertaining hour of television. Still, a lot of online conversation stayed focused on the discrepancies between the comics and the small screen interpretation.
My only issue with both programs is the representation of women, problematic at best. Don't get me wrong, characters like Felicity and Caitlin are great, but the love interests our leads pine for from the pilot feel like forced plot points, becoming the program's weakest elements. I sometimes wonder if this is because it's part of a comic trope from earlier years that isn't sitting as well in modern television? I'm not versed enough in the origin stories to say. But every time someone talks about "protecting" Iris on The Flash, I can't help wincing.
My core issue, though, is the inference Laurel and Iris are more sexually desirable than Felicity and Caitlin. You can't cast beautiful, slender actresses to play women who are geniuses, each with a successful, complex career, not to mention a great sense of humor (also styled gorgeously btw) and then write narrative that implies Felicity and Caitlin are obviously not as attractive/desirable in the eyes of the modern world as Laurel and Iris. Considering higher IQs seem to be the only real differences (to me as an audience member), between Felicity and Laurel, and Caitlin and Iris, I find the implied subliminal messages here quite disturbing.
Obviously over time the scripts are working—episode by episode—to change these dynamics and give us more rounded female leads, but I would say definitely at the cost of initial retention in audience numbers (especially those early days of Arrow). I didn't get the same impression from Daredevil. I really like the multifaceted female characters on that show from the outset. I've since been told Daredevil is by Marvel, and Arrow and Flash are from DC. Once again, this aspect of their origins hadn't occurred to me, but it probably should come into consideration. I thought perhaps the fact two of the shows were on CW and the other on a different television format, explained part of the differences. Who can say?
Which brings me to Marvel's Agent Carter. This nearly slipped under my radar, and what a loss that would have been. The program didn't have the fanboy support shown for The Flash and Arrow. Someone whose opinion I trust recommended it, saying I would enjoy the series. I'd read it was about Captain America's girlfriend, and a girlfriend-of-a-superhero focused show sounded like a terrible idea.
Next I saw online that the series was set in the past. I remember thinking, who is going to watch this?! Eventually I checked it out and found the show to be absolutely fascinating. (But more on that later.) Part of what makes the series so interesting, from a cultural perspective, is the way the show stacked the odds against itself. With no superhero lead, comic fan hype was low. But non-comic fans were staying away too, assuming the series was a kind of superhero thing. At the time, calling the show Marvel's Agent Carter probably seemed like an obvious positive, but in retrospect, I'd consider it a misstep, alienating the program from audiences who would have appreciated it the most: those unfamiliar with its comic roots, but appreciative of television with complex themes.
Basically, Marvel's Agent Carter fell through marketing gaps left, right, and center before the pilot screened. When I watched the episode, I noted the stylized look. The series came across like an old-fashioned television show, in terms of angles and lighting. Even the editing seemed slower paced (although I could be wrong). An entirely different aesthetic. Beautiful, yes, but not really on trend.
Then I realized it was on trend, stylistically, when lined up next to a show like Mad Men. It just wasn't being compared to that, it was being compared to Arrow. Fans who would appreciate the wit and intelligence at work in the scripts weren't watching because they didn't consider themselves part of the target audience.
And then you ran into other problems. Peggy Carter was a feminist who loved glamor (always wearing lipstick), but wasn't hyper-sexualized. In the modern day, we're not sure if this is an iconic female hero. But Carter is much more complex and interesting than most women who've appeared in comic-related fare; Hayley Atwell's portrayal of the under-utilized agent hits the mark (and then some), making this by far my favorite of all the television shows linked to either the DC or Marvel comic universes.
(On a side note, seeing the openly sexist society of the post WWII workplace on Marvel's Agent Carter was sobering, partly because so many women have experienced echoes of such attitudes in the modern day. The show is an unsettling multifaceted mirror, reflecting both how far we've come, and how far we have to go.) I'm not sure if the series is based on certain comics. No idea if Peggy has her own comics or is a side character referenced in other characters' adventures. I don't need to know because I enjoyed the series as-is. (I haven't seen the first Captain America film, so I had no idea who Carter was.)
Maybe that's the point. Maybe the idea that comics provide a ready made fan base for television outings is only true to a certain point. As television shows with a link to comic-based narratives step further away from accepted traditional narrative forms and explore the opportunities a different medium provides, so must marketing adapt to bring a different kind of audience into the fold. Comic-based television shows don't just belong to fans of comics: those discovering new heroes and inspirations are just as welcome audience members, even if, occasionally, it really doesn't feel that way.
In summary, the current comic-to-television model is a strange one, relying on a difficult fusion of established fans of another medium and new fans completely unfamiliar with said medium. This also means offerings working outside a (roughly) standardized structure, no matter how entertaining, are at this point in time invariably doomed to slip through the cracks, which is a great pity. Hopefully, in the future, the dynamic will change.*
*Note: I haven't referenced Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. or Constantine in this post, as I barely made it through the pilots. I've yet to watch Gotham. It will be interesting to see if Gotham, also working outside the standard superhero format, suffers for it. Hopefully it will be another step in breaking the mold. (Also worth noting, this blog only addresses recent television productions sourced from comic material, and not classic examples of small screen superhero outings.)
If you haven't checked out the tv adaption of 12 Monkeys, be sure to make the time (pun intended).
My love of time travel material on the big and small screen took a bit of a battering after the disappointment of Looper. Non-linear stories were once the cutting edge of mind-twisting entertainment, yet recent efforts have been halfhearted at best. William Shatner's live tweets convinced me to give 12 Monkeys a try, but it should be noted I was a jaded audience member going into the pilot.
Creating a tv series from a film premise can be rough, especially in a case like this, where the original movie is a trippy cult number from Terry Gilliam starring Bruce Willis and Brad Pitt. A cinematic reputation like that doesn't make for an easy road to adaptation. And the show's on Syfy, which didn't reassure. I haven't been bowled over by the network's recent scripted television offerings: Dominion, Bitten, and Helix, for starters. The quality of the storytelling has fallen consistently short.
I love science fiction (and the paranormal) because the genres allow narrative to wander in unusual directions. Sci-fi and paranormal shows can push boundariesconceptually and structurally: they're free to explore ideas beyond the parameters of everyday television. Comments can be made on complex social, scientific, and ethical issues all while maintaining empathic, emotional connections with the audience–if the writers know what they're doing, that is. These genres should be the antithesis of clumsy storytelling devices and two-dimensional characters, but increasingly this hasn't been the case, and it's a worrying trend.
Turns out, sometimes taking a risk on a new show really delivers. 12 Monkeys is the first series in a while that lives up to the expectations implied by the network's name. Elements of the movie have been reshaped to suit the medium; this is a different animal to the film, and it's a good thing. The storylines for each episode (and the season's arc) are crafted meticulously. What makes 12 Monkeys a beautiful viewing experience is the overall sense of balance. Let's face it, when you're watching out for paradoxes and characters are moving all over the (time) board like chess pieces gone rogue, it's easy for the storytelling to stumble. The potential pitfalls with this kind of series are daunting, but 12 Monkeys steps adroitly over any possible chasms. You can tell when writers have faith in their product: there are no empty tricks or desperate grabs for audience attention because they know you're hooked from the first minute, and that sense of confident restraint is what can make a show so addictive.
12 Monkeys has moments of dry, very realistic wit that occasionally break up the intensity: small, well-placed doses of unexpected levity that don't detract from the seriousness of the program, but give the audience time to breathe.
Like all brilliant science fiction, humanity is at the heart of the story. The goal is to stop a virus from wiping out the bulk of human life on the planet (either in the past, present, or future). Here the myriad friendships/relationships between the characters are elegantly handled, and prove to be in as much of a state of flux as the timeline.
Yes, the true star of 12 Monkeys is the timeline that just won't do what it's told. I feel like this show is a puzzle my brain is currently engaged in, and the state of the timeline is the end game. Whenever a piece moves, I try to work out what impact the change will have on the overall solution, but I'm unknowingly skipping variables, or waiting to turn over cards from a pack that's constantly being reshuffled.
(Kudos to creators Travis Fickett and Terry Matalas, who are responsible for a bulk of the writing in the first season. Just imagining the whiteboard in the writer's room gives me a headache.)
There's some clever casting, too. In all honesty I would never have chosen Aaron Stanford and Amanda Schull as the show's leads. I've only really seen Schull as the unbalanced Meredith in Pretty Little Liars (and a beauty pageant contestant in a Castle episode) so it seemed risky giving her what is a difficult lead role as Dr. Cassandra Railly. She's the controlled scientific type, and those parts can come across as dull and unlikeable–not through any fault of the actor. But Schull does a fantastic job. I really like Cassie, a character I generally wouldn't connect with, and it's because of the way she's portrayed as much as the way she's written.
Likewise, Aaron Stanford. The first time he appeared onscreen, I thought, really? He doesn't seem like a tough survivor from the future. But by the end of the pilot he'd hit it out of the park as James Cole, and each episode sees him reveal another believable layer, in terms of the character's psyche, to the point where Stanford has made Cole one of my favorite characters currently on television. It's worth noting my sense of solidarity jumps from Cole to Cassie; suddenly I'm starkly identifying with one or the other, completely engaging with their perspective, before swinging back. I love this factor, it's a large part of the show's allure. From moment to moment I'm uncertain what my viewpoint is, in regards to the status of a period in linear time: the past as a changeable past, the past as the present, the future as a changeable future, the future as the present. For viewers it's like looking through a kaleidoscope. One tiny twist, and you suddenly have a different interpretation of the point the story is passing through.
My favorite character in any television show is generally the wild card. Here it's Jennifer Goines, played by Emily Hampshire. She reminds me of Drucilla from Buffy The Vampire Slayer, possessing, as I call it, the befuddled clarity of insanity. Hampshire manages to compel that particular unease you feel when someone's reactions imply they're not mentally well, and she does it with just her gaze, or a single line.
There are so many ethical and moral quandaries in each episode, not to mention careful attention paid to detail. Favorite examples? When Cassie tried to make Cole comprehend she'd been waiting years for him, even though he'd seen her minutes ago. When Cole tried to make Cassie understand it didn't matter if he killed someone because to him everyone was already dead. When Cole didn't know what a license plate was. When Cassie was in the red forest (a Twin Peaks-esque homage, intentional or otherwise). When Jennifer learnt who killed her father. The audience can't shake the sensation any moment of stability in the story is constantly balanced on the head of a pin, destined to come tumbling down, and frankly, it's a delicious feeling.
