American Gods (2017-Present)

I first heard about this series back when it came out.  I mean, Bryan Fuller (Dead Like Me, Wonderfalls, Pushing Daisies, Hannibal,) and Michael Green (Kings) making a show based on a Neil Gaiman book?  Are you kidding me?  However, the fact that it’s on STARZ meant I wasn’t able to check out its first season until it came out on DVD.  Thankfully, though, I’ve now had a chance to sink my teeth into this amazing show.

Upon getting out of jail, Shadow Moon meets Mr. Wednesday, a mysterious man who keeps strange company and claims to be a god.  Mr. Wednesday offers Shadow a job as his driver and all-purpose assistant while he (Wednesday) embarks on a cross-country mission.  He’s spoiling for a showdown between the old and new gods and enlists Shadow’s help as he rallies as many old gods to his side as he can.

Oh man, this show is a treat.  It takes elements of Full, Green, and Gaiman’s talents to create a visually-arresting, thought-provoking series with beautiful dialogue and truly inventive ideas.  Fair warning, it’s a very slow series, in which the journey is just as important as the destination, but I love every tangent, sidetrack, and story break.  It’s packed with so much awesomeness and creativity, and I’ll happily follow these compelling characters anywhere they go.

I just love the idea of gods immigrating to American along with the people of the countries they’re from, of America shaping and changing the gods by being there.  All the old gods – ex:  Anansi, Anubis, Ostera (Easter) – have assimilated to various degrees, and changes in worship/offerings/sacrifice over the ages have made a difference as well.  Additionally, we have the new gods, those who were born out of America itself, such as Media and Technology.  I love seeing them all, and the different forms their divinity takes.

It’s not all about the gods, though.  Shadow offers us a vantage point through the lens of the human world, someone who’s seeing these increasingly-insane things and yet still doesn’t know if he truly believes in anything.  He helps us get at the questions of humanity and gods.  What happens to a god when people stop worshipping them?  As all-powerful as they are, do gods need us more than we need them?

And the cast, goodness gracious!  Both showrunners have brought some of “their” people to the proceedings.  On the Michael Green side, we have heavy-hitter Ian McShane (Silas from Kings) as Mr. Wednesday.  For Bryan Fuller, we have appearances by Gillian Anderson, Kristin Chenoweth, Beth Grant, and Tracie Thoms.  Just for added awesomeness, we also get Emily Browning (Violet Baudelaire from the movie version of A Series of Unfortunate Events,) Pablo Schreiber (“Pornstache” from Orange is the New Black,) Crispin Glover, Orlando Jones (he did appear in an episode of Pushing Daisies, but I know him best as Irving from Sleepy Hollow,) and Omid Abtahi (Mockingjay.)  Needless to say, everyone is fantastic.

Warnings

Graphic violence and sexual content, swearing, drinking/smoking, disturbing images, and strong thematic elements.

Relationship Spotlight: Jaye & Sharon Tyler (Wonderfalls)

I wrote about Jaye and Aaron ages ago, and they remain my favorite Tyler sibling duo, but Jaye and Sharon are pretty fun, too.  As with Jaye and her brother, the two sisters’ relationship is wildly dysfunctional but, at the same time, oddly compelling.  The character interactions on this show really take it beyond a quirky curiosity about a young woman who hears inanimate objects talk to her and make it real.  Jaye and Sharon are a prime example of that.

Jaye and her sister don’t have what you’d call a warm relationship.  They’re not close – Jaye tries to avoid everyone in the family as a rule, but when she and Sharon are in the same sphere, Jaye’s sarcasm starts working overtime.  As a type-A immigration lawyer, Sharon is light years past slacker Jaye (a retail clerk) in terms of grown-up pursuits.  Sharon has worked hard to get where she is, and not just in her professional life; she frequently casts herself in the martyr-ish role of the family savior, the one who bends over backwards to accommodate the others and cleans up the messes of more wayward members like Jaye.  This career and familial pressure – and extreme closetedness – have left Sharon tightly-wound, practically brittle.

Jaye, meanwhile, has cultivated an “expectation-free zone” for herself.  Unlike her family of overachievers, she prefers to live well below her potential.  She enjoys the way she exasperates Sharon; however, there’s also a little part of her that kind of resents how seemingly put-together Sharon is, which complicates their interactions.  Although Jaye is determined to keep her life from moving forward, she doesn’t like her sister looking down on her and wears her retail vest with a surly chip on her shoulder.

Of course, Jaye’s days of inaction are coming to a close.  Everything changes when the inanimate objects around her start pestering her to do things, and this is when Jaye and Sharon’s relationship starts to soften, little by little.  Some it comes from external prodding; it’s one of Jaye’s tchotchke consciences who first urges Jaye to say “I love you,” to her sister.  The fact that Sharon is accidentally outed to Jaye also plays a part in their relationship.  While Aaron is the only one in the family who learns Jaye’s secret, Jaye is the only one who knows Sharon is a lesbian.  As self-involved as Jaye can be, I think having a secret of her own allows her to empathize, at least a bit, with Sharon’s situation.  She’s supportive in her own snarky Jaye way, and even though I daresay Sharon sometimes wishes Jaye had never found out, it’s good for her to have someone in the know.

Even though Sharon and Jaye continue to clash, sometimes enormously, Jaye pretty consistently turns to Sharon when she needs help, and Sharon rarely disappoints.  Whether it’s a way out of a legal jam or some coaching through a difficult conversation, Sharon is there for her little sister (often complaining throughout and pointing out that she can’t just drop everything because Jaye can’t sort her own crap out.)  Aaron is more of an emotional support for Jaye, trying to get her to open up about what’s going on with her, and Jaye and Sharon definitely don’t have that kind of relationship, but Sharon provides support in a different way, serving as a reluctant-but-dependable protector/advisor/lifeguard.  Though Jaye isn’t the best at reciprocating (she usually needs a push to go out of her way for anyone,) she at least starts to recognize all that her sister does on her behalf and begins to understand why Sharon acts so uptight.  Baby steps, but considering where they are at the start of the series, not bad at all.

Top Five Roles: Lee Pace

*Disclaimer: I paid lip service to this in the write-up, but it should have been said more strongly. Lee Pace shouldn’t have played either Calpernia in Soldier’s Girl or Roy in The Fall. His talent doesn’t negate the fact that a trans actress and a disabled actor should have been cast in these roles and lost opportunities because Lee Pace was cast instead.*

I was reminded of how much I enjoy Lee Pace’s work when he guest-starred on an episode of The Mindy Project earlier this season.  He can be a bit hampered by the role he plays or the project he’s in – I can’t really connect with his character Joe on Halt and Catch Fire, and while I the writing doesn’t do him many favors, I know he’s capable of better.  However, in the right parts, he’s just terrific.  Here are my favorites from Lee Pace.

Calpernia Addams, Soldier’s Girl

In the years since I saw this film, I’ve learned more about the issue of cisgender actors playing trans roles, and I know the part rightly should’ve gone to a trans performer, but Pace is still incredible.  Calpernia, a nightclub performer, is utterly winning and sympathetic, reaching for love in a world that says she can’t have it.  Every emotion, from joy to despair, is beautifully wrought.  I also love how unaffected the performance is; men playing trans women tend to do “impressions” of women that feel put-on, but Calpernia simply is who she is.  I appreciate that.

Aaron Tyler, Wonderfalls

This is the lesser of Pace’s two Bryan Fuller roles, but it’s still great fun.  Aaron’s a bit pretentious, a bit shiftless, a bit irritating, a bit judgmental, and an absolute riot.  Whether he’s giving lectures with salt-and-pepper shakers, smuggling the housekeeper back from Canada, or desperately denying his existential crisis, he’s a stitch.  He gets taken down plenty of pegs over the series, and despite his frequent frustration with her, he’s wonderfully loyal to Jaye.

Roy Walker, The Fall

Another problematic character for Pace, since we meet former stuntman Roy in the hospital after the accident that paralyzed him.  Because he spends most of his time in bed, though, the crip-face isn’t as glaring.  At any rate, Roy’s draw is his relationship with Alexandria, the hospitalized young girl who befriends him.  By telling her a fantastical tale, he hopes to trick her into getting him a lethal dose of pills, and he’s caring, surly, sympathetic, and cunning as the plot demands.

Ned, Pushing Daisies

The first role I saw Pace in, and the reason I’ll love him forever.  Pace is just spectacular as the shy piemaker who wakes the dead with the touch of his finger.  Ned’s heartbreak is gutting, his reticent happiness is effervescent, his bolder moments are enormously heartening, and he’s usually hilarious in-between.  From his line readings to his body language, he’s pitch perfect.

Thranduil, The Hobbit

I don’t have any great love for the Hobbit trilogy, but Pace’s Thranduil is one of its consistently great elements.  The icy Elvish king is an imperious isolationist, every inch the haughty immortal who thinks he knows best.  He feels truly other-worldly in a way that few in the series do, and even though Pace is two years younger than Orlando Bloom, I totally buy him as Legolas’s dad.

Relationship Spotlight: Will Graham & Hannibal Lector (Hannibal)

There’s still a couple months before Hannibal returns for its third season, but it’s never too early to write about this gorgeous, horrific show (not many series could fit both those adjectives in equal measure – Hannibal’s definitely a rare breed.)  The subject of today’s post is, of course, the most compelling reason to watch the show:  the twisted, twisted relationship between psychologically-fragile FBI profiler Will Graham and Hannibal Lector, his psychiatrist who possibly steps a smidgeon outside normal ethical practice (I’ll do my best to avoid spoilers.)

Despite the deafening alarm bells of “Run, Will – he’s a cannibal!!” dramatic irony, it’s impressive just how engrossing Will and Hannibal’s relationship is.  The irony is there, naturally.  The man who can dexterously place himself in the mind of any killer can’t see the killer sitting across from him, Hannibal’s position gives him access to all manner of FBI intel, and it’s an obvious exercise in disgust every time he invites Will over for a sumptuous dinner of human flesh.  With our insight as viewers into Hannibal’s blatant insidiousness, it would be easy just to focus on this side of things, but the series offers so much more to dig into.

In Will’s sessions with Hannibal, it’s clear that the not-so-good doctor isn’t just a murderous foodie with a taste for his own kind.  His gas-lighting manipulations are almost like another kind of cannibalism.  He consumes Will by breaking him down piece by piece, making him question everything he thinks he knows.  Part of it is utilitarian – Will is an expert with uncanny abilities, and since he’s the person most likely to get wise to Hannibal’s unsavory habits, it behooves Hannibal to throw him off his game.  However, practicality is only the tip of the iceberg.  Really, Hannibal plays with Will’s mind because he wants to.  He deceives, disorients, and dominates Will, pushing him just to see when he’ll break.  It’s absolutely sick, and it really says something that, for a character who literally kills people and eats them, this is what makes my skin crawl the most in relation to Hannibal.  At the same time, though, I like how much it hammers home his sociopathy.  Destroying Will is nothing to him because he honestly doesn’t care – it’s a necessity, or an experiment, or a game, and Will is just a thing Hannibal can use.

As part of Hannibal’s subjection of Will, he seeks to isolate him from everyone else.  Gradually, by degrees, he alienates Will from his coworkers and his few friends, wanting to position himself as the only one Will relies on.  This has both a tactical motivation – it leaves no one to help Will – and a sinister one – it makes his control of Will more complete.  Beyond that, Hannibal feels a perverse attachment to Will.  He’s fascinated by Will’s empathy disorder, which allows him to fully identify with anyone.  Not only is it the polar opposite of Hannibal’s pathology, which disallows empathy entirely, but he’s taken with the idea of Will’s dark potential.  Will can step into a killer’s head the way other people step into a room, and if Hannibal just applies the right pressure, perhaps he could be trapped there.  Through Will, Hannibal tries in part to create a playmate for himself, and he considers Will a friend in a way that only a sociopath can.  He “cares” for Will much like someone would care for a prized possession; Will is someone he owns, and any “sadness” (or facsimile thereof) that Hannibal feels over problems in their “friendship” is self-centered distress at the loss of his toy.  I like this, too – the show demonstrates that Hannibal isn’t an automaton without suggesting that he’s anything less than utterly vile.  “Connecting” with someone in his distorted way doesn’t make him salvageable.  Instead, when we see how he warps it, it only serves to highlight how despicable he really is.