Sometimes, shows sneak up on you. That's all there is to it. I've been watching TV seriously--as opposed to just watching it because, you know, it's there--for just over a decade. While I certainly don't have as much contextual experience as older, wiser critics like Alan Sepinwall, Matt Zoller Seitz, or Mo Ryan, I've watched long enough to know that, nine times out of ten, it only takes a certain amount of episodes for me to know that I'm on board with a show or if it's time to jump ship. As an example of the latter, I watched the first four episodes of the recently renewed TNT science-fiction drama Falling Skies and, though I was somewhat impressed with the performance from Noah Wyle and the show's serviceable special effects, the show wasn't grabbing me as I hoped it would.
What's more, I watch plenty of TV as it is; even though I now have two DVRs with 1 terabyte of recording space between them, I can't double the amount of time I have in a day, a week, or a month. Falling Skies isn't a bad show, but it's not particularly remarkable. I knew that, 40 percent of the way through the show's inaugural season, I wasn't suddenly going to be switched around. Maybe down the line, should the show have a creative upturn, I'll go back to the beginning, but I'm not holding my breath. My basic point, though, is this: more often than not, I know if a show's going to hold my interest well enough to merit a season pass. But sometimes, I'm gradually compelled to keep watching a show, not immediately. Such is the case with HBO's Treme, which concluded its second season this past Sunday. The show, from David Simon, creator of the esteemed HBO drama The Wire, is not as critically beloved, but it's no less satisfying or immersive than that Baltimore-set program.
I ended up catching up with both seasons of the show over roughly six months, as the first season was being rerun over the first few months of this year. I've done the same thing with another HBO drama, the far more popular and far less dramatically cohesive True Blood. I wonder if prolonging my exposure to the first season of Treme while having read a little bit about the show via critics such as Mr. Sepinwall and Mr. Seitz has made me appreciate it more. I knew, even before the show premiered, that I shouldn't go in expecting a New Orleans version of The Wire. The shows do have obvious and subtle similarities, from shared cast members (notably Wendell Pierce, formerly Bunk, currently Antoine, a raffish trombonist) to a shared dissertation into how a modern American city thrives and survives. But Treme is a celebration of New Orleans, where The Wire was detailing the demise of a city that should be far greater than it is. The most important difference is that Treme is a show about atmosphere and The Wire is a show with plot oozing from every pore.
For that reason alone, I didn't get immediately pulled into Treme, initially being far more interested in stories focused on characters played by Pierce, Kim Dickens, Oscar winner Melissa Leo, John Goodman, and Steve Zahn, mostly because I knew these actors better. But Treme, which began its first season mere months after the disaster of Hurricane Katrina, can suck in any viewer, whether you've been to New Orleans or if you've only dreamed of walking down the French Quarter. Eventually, the actors melt away and their characters shine through. We're no longer watching Wendell Pierce, but Antoine, a trombonist who starts out the series trying to make it from day to day with any gig he can get and ends up the second season leading a group of high school musicians in a triumphant performance on the street. We're not watching Kim Dickens, but Janette, a chef who's great at what she does but still doesn't know what she really wants (aside from living in the Big Easy).
The list goes on, extending quickly to plenty of actors whose faces aren't nearly as recognizable. There's Lucia Micarelli, as the sweet and charming fiddler Annie, starting out the series in a damaging relationship with Sonny, a would-be musician who doesn't appreciate that his talents lie far from the music scene. Annie is now with Davis, a brash DJ portrayed by Zahn, someone who desperately wants to prove his New Orleans cred, or to prove that he's right, even at the detriment of his own career. Sonny has skipped out on music and the crippling addiction that screwed him over, and is now making time on a Vietnamese fishing boat that, in one of the second season finale's final scenes, ominously passes by some oil platforms that are beginning to leak...just a bit. Another actor from The Wire, Clarke Peters (who, quick note, will be playing Othello opposite Dominic West, as Iago, in England soon; wouldn't you love to see Lester Freamon and Jimmy McNulty go head to head?), plays Albert Lambreaux, the Big Chief of the Mardi Gras Indians. His son, Delmond (Rob Brown), has come to appreciate and embrace his heritage and build a relationship with his strident, stubborn father. Their back-and-forths have been among the most pleasing and entertaining moments of either season. Finally, in the truly haunting storyline of the season, LaDonna (Khandi Alexander), a bartender, is gang-raped outside her establishment, and has to go through the harrowing process of accepting what's happened to her and fighting back. Alexander has been excellent on both seasons, but her work this year (especially in the season finale, where she confronts one of her attackers) is jaw-dropping in its brilliance.
Something that critics of the show have mentioned is how little plot seems to matter. You're more likely to watch 15 minutes of nearly unbroken musical performances than to get major dumps of information. Even if you weren't a fan of The Wire (which would render you insane or lacking in taste, but that's neither here nor there), you may not dig the show's languid pace. I'll admit that the first season was something I admired more than loved, partly because there wasn't a moment for me to jump into the action; instead, I felt like someone standing outside the window, watching the fun go by without as much context as I'd have liked. I don't know what changed this season, but I've gone from admiring this show to flat-out loving it. There wasn't a specific scene that hooked me completely, or even a character. What Treme has become, in its sophomore session, is a great hang-out show. In short, I've learned enough about these characters that I'm fine with just hanging out with them each week. I no longer feel like a voyeur, but like I'm there right next to these people. Every time there's a musical performance, I'm standing right there with the rest of the crowd, taking in the sweaty, smoky, exciting vibe. Each time food is on screen, I'm looking at it, drooling, wanting to dig in. Each character, diverse as they are, is a reward to the viewer.
Now, mind you, Treme is not perfect. While I though David Morse and Jon Seda were fine additions to the cast, their performances didn't match the often weightless storylines they were placed into. Morse, I hope, will return next season; Seda, though I liked him, seems to have no purpose in the future of the show. Despite some storytelling flaws, I've come to love Treme as much as I ever did The Wire, even if the latter show is clearly superior in terms of its overall scope. That aside, I found it fitting that the show's second season finale came on the eve of Independence Day. That holiday is, of course, the most blatant celebration of America we have; watching Treme, a show about the ups and downs of life for the creative and the driven in one of the jewels of this country, is a weekly look into the triumph of the human spirit, an hourly commemoration of this flawed, sometimes infuriating, sometimes transcendent country.
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