"So why have I not lost hope like he did? Because those windmills at which we tilted were created by men to turn grindstones that transformed the Earth's bounty into flour. From such humble beginnings grew the astonishing modern world in which we now live. We cannot conquer the mountains, but our railroads now run through them with ease. We cannot defeat the river, but we can bend it to our will and dam it for our own purposes."
--Episode 1.1, "Method and Madness," 8.8.14
When it comes to influence, it feels like "The Knick" is a show that TV critics will be marking for years to come. Steven Soderbergh's dense, fascinating examination of turn-of-the-century medicine could eventually have an impact on auteur-driven television to the same degree that Soderbergh's "Sex, lies, and videotape" forever changed independent cinema. It is SO clearly an artistic venture in that it never feels like anything has been focus-grouped or shaped to meet an audience's expectations. "The Knick" is a strange, strange show, from Soderbergh's daring decision to use a modern score (by the great Cliff Martinez) to his regular use of low angles and lower lighting. It is a show that feels dangerous, much like the world it's capturing--a world that never feels safe, especially for women and minorities. Even powerful people like Cornelia (Juliet Rylance) and brilliant ones like Algernon (Andre Holland) are constantly reminded of their place in this fragile society. And Soderbergh tackles major, current themes, like the role of religion in a world that lets children die and hungry people starve. Now that I think about it, this should probably be higher on my list. But that's just the kind of year it's been. There have been numerous years lately in which it would be #1 by a wide margin. In today's era, it's #6.
"I've lost everything and everyone I've ever cared for. This is all I have left. Don't stand in the way."
--Episode 1.2, "Pray For Me," 11.22.14
Starz's first great drama comes from a classic template of television--the "What If" drama. What if your child went missing? How far would you go get answers, even after you knew there were no good ones to be had? What would it do to your marriage? Your career? Much like the first season of "The Killing," "The Missing" is about the ripple effect of unimaginable crime more than the mystery itself. As the first remarkable season has progressed, I've been, of course, fascinated by the inevitable resolution of "what happened" to Oliver Hughes, but the accomplishment of the show is in how it captures the fact that time doesn't stop to come to those conclusions. Everyone in the radius of a crime as horrible as the kidnapping of a child is forever changed, from the cops who investigate to the townspeople who watch their village upended by journalists. We are in an amazing time for TV mysteries, and what I like most about the current trend is the willingness for writers to get away from the whodunnit aspect that defined the genre and explore the tougher questions like why and what now?
"Let me assure you, Mr Beeman. I would never betray my country."
"No one ever imagines they will."
--Episode 2.9, "Martial Eagle," 4.23.14
I love when a show fulfills its potential. I liked the first season of "The Americans" well enough, but it barely hinted at the dense, character-driven spy drama that this great program became in its second season. It went from a fun period piece to John Le Carre in season two, as the writers focused on the impact of espionage more completely and allowed their great ensemble to convey the minefield in which these characters exists. Right from the season premiere, in which a family is murdered, the stakes felt different. These people are just playing at being spies, like it feels so many characters are in espionage-driven entertainment, they are in a daily fight for their lives. They could be busted, and their families could be killed. The heightened narrative stakes were enhanced by superior filmmaking as well. Every costume choice, every bit of production design, and, of course, every song. The finale's use of Golden Earring didn't just callback to the '80s, it felt thematically resonant and intensified the action of the climax. "Where am I to go now that I've gone too far?" "The Americans" is a drama about that very question--about people who have run out of options and are just trying to minimize the damage of the inevitable.
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