A Visual Annotation: ‘True Detective’ Season 2 Episode 1

By Dave Pezza

Daniel Ford has wanted me to talk about how I annotate in the margin of books I am currently reading; instead I gave him this—a visual annotation of the first episodes of the second season of “True Detective.” Each post will be my reaction and musings about an episode of true detective.  I've never seen a second of this show before now. So I thought it fitting to start with the second season and work my way backwards.

Books and shows are not about sitting back and being transported into a fake world with fake people with no ties to real life. It’s about conversing with other people as a writer and a reader/watcher. It’s about taking those emotions and observations and processing them into change or knowledge. Annotating has always been my initial response to art. Maybe you’ll like it and maybe you won’t. In either case, here are my thoughts on episode 1 of season 2 of "True Detective." Warning: Spoilers ahead!

All right, so let’s talk about the James Bond-esque opening credits. I want to like it really badly, but I’m not feeling it yet. Although I’m totally going to find the Leonard Cohen song (it’s called “Nevermind”). Writer Nic Pizzolatto throws us right into it; Colin Farrell’s character trying to do right by his probably not son years after his wife was beaten and raped. Pizzolatto is already setting up some good character development devices; here, for instance, where Farrell’s character wants to exchange voice recorders with his son, a sort of audio correspondence. That’ll definitely come in handy for some killer monologue later on (I was right!). I have to admit I love a well worked in monologue. Maybe it’s those Shakespeare classes from college.

Farrell’s character has a gritty feel, a look he’s really good with. But this character seems different, darker than I can ever remember him. Pseudo-dirty cop might seem to on the nose for him, but I already dig it.

Yes! God I am so excited to see Vince Vaughan in this show. He’s the whole reason I decided to check it out. I don’t think for a moment this show is outside of his range. You ever see him as Norman Bates in that remake of Psycho? Creepy as fuck. Pizzolatto decides to give us our first look at Vaughan as not a real, whole villain. He’s helping Farrell out, albeit to get Farrell under the payroll while killing a man in the process. Then again “this filth” did beat and rape Farrell’s wife. And if drama has taught me anything, it’s that singular acts of evil cannot go unpunished, otherwise the framework of the microcosm that the writer has tried to enclose us in totally fails. Vaughn’s wife is a hottie too! I am guessing that’s his weakness, especially since that’s how we are introduced to him, defining Farrell’s wife, a reflection of his relationship with his own wife.

My sense of Vaughn is exactly what Pizzolatto is probably going for: a brooding, serious man who is venturing into something new, laying everything on the line for something grand. Honestly, I think Vaughn’s killing it so far.

Butt stuff! Wow. Really. That’s how we get introduced to Rachel McAdams. Butt stuff. Jesus, HBO. And the over the top effeminate boyfriend to top it off! “Oh, how do we show that a female character is hard? Let’s make her a man.”

And naturally she is paired up with a Hispanic male partner, because you know they go together, because neither of them are white males. Just saying. Pizzolatto seems a little lazy here. And the crazy younger sister is a bit much, maybe not as much as the whacked out, hippie father that named her Antigone, a name which I am supposed to read into more than I will. I hate putting too much stock in character names. No real person has had the luxury of being appropriately named for the poetic circumstances of their life’s drama.

And who is this Paul Walker-looking dude. I’m really not interested in his tacked on story, even though he’s getting one of the top bills. It could be that I’ve just simply gotten tired of the young-white-guy-with-angst-issues character arch. Oh no, does that mean I’m maturing… Ugh, I better pour some more bourbon. Did he take the blowjob, did he not take the blowjob, and I’m supposed to feel sorry for the guy because he has erectile dysfunction? Nah, gimmie more Vaughn…who just stared down some mob attorney like a badass! Now I’m the one with a boner. 

Vaughn is a man keeping it together, slowly coming undone at the seams. I am not sure there is a better way to unleash a villain’s anger throughout a story. And Ferrell is a perfectly foil for Vaughn. A dirty cop at his wick’s end whose sense of right and wrong has him so screwed he’s beating down a reporter and father of a 12-year-old vs. a career criminal who maintains a moral high ground that’s quickly eroding away as he grasps at life in the legitimate. Damn. I just sold myself on this whole season.

I haven’t yet mentioned anything of the plot, but not because it is thin. It’s thin in a good way, the way good noir detective stories should be. There is shit and evil and muck and blurred moral compasses everywhere, but it’s the individual cases and circumstances of these machinations and the men and women who attempt to stop them or cause them that gets me. Plot can be hard-nosed, brittle and difficult to navigate as a writer and reader/watcher, but, when characters are slippery and fickle like real people, they fill in the gaps with their own twists and turns. I’m also glad we are back to hating journalists and have stopped canonizing cops in this show. That’s a world I can only vaguely recall from old movies. I miss it so. Pizzolatto does well there. People can be good and people can be bad, no matter profession or race.

Highlight of the episode is the bar scene between Vaughn and Farrell. They just sit and look at each other for what must have been an hour. The director earned his whole salary right here. I’m terribly impressed with it. Vaughn and Farrell know that their arrangement has grown stale and superficial, and with it their tacit friendship. But it feels like they both so badly want it to endure somehow. That there was something there once, like childhood friends who just don’t get along like they once did. And all of this is beautifully narrated by the folk singer’s song in the back ground. I found this song on the official show soundtrack (which was recorded from scratch) get it, because it is dangerously addictive: "My Least Favorite Life" by Lera Lynn. Interesting tidbit, Lynn was cast to perform the song in the episode.

On the other hand, I’m not sure Pizzolatto nails the ending. I mean it is clear he wants us to see that all these characters are alike and connected in some way. Vaughn and Farrell’s friendship. Vaughn and McAdams with their coffee mug scenes. McAdams and Farrell’s fetish for getting shitfaced on whiskey (join the club). The only one I can’t place is Paul Walker’s look-a-like, other than the fact I’m pretty sure he is shacking up with the missing 24-year-old woman. I guess I have seven more episodes for him. But all in all, Pizzolatto sets the stage pretty well, bringing them all together even with their vastly different jurisdictions.

Line of the Episode: “You ever bully or hurt anyone again, I’ll come back and butt fuck your father with your mom’s headless corpse on the goddamn lawn.”—Ray Velcoro (Colin Farrell)

Why You Should Be Watching HBO’s ‘Sonic Highways’

By Daniel Ford

“It’s not about being perfect. It’s not about sounding absolutely correct, it’s not about what goes on in a computer. It’s about what goes on in here (pointing to his heart) and what goes on in here (pointing to his head).”

I’ve been a fan of Dave Grohl’s ever since he spoke those words at the 54th Annual Grammy Awards in 2012. He confirmed everything I believe about music and writing by taking his industry to task for shitting out over-produced and under-written marketing plans in the guise of hits.

The Foo Fighter’s front man wasn’t being a contrarian just to sell albums or gain a few thousand fans on Twitter. You may not be a fan of his music, but no one can deny Grohl’s sincerity when talking about music. It emanates from him like a thundering drum solo or hard rock guitar lick.

Luckily for fans that enjoy a more analog musical experience, Grohl has been on a documentary kick of late that is nothing short of inspiring. He produced and directed 2013’s “Sound City,” which featured a recording studio in Los Angeles frequented by artists such as Neil Young, Tom Petty, Rick Springfield (who I have a new appreciation for), Fleetwood Mac, and Nirvana (Grohl was the lead drummer for the Kurt Cobain-fronted band) from 1969 until the studio closed in 2011. Whenever a writer’s favorite coffee shop or bar closes down, you don’t expect him or her to purchase a table or stool to keep its memory alive. Well, in addition to making the documentary, Grohl bought the legendary Rupert Neve sound board and installed it in his house. His house.     

I finished “Sound City” and immediately reached for my Moleskin notebook. Watching how influential, experimental, and imperfect art is produced never fails to inspire me to create new worlds in which to torture my main characters. I also went on a music documentary bender that included Neil Young’s “Heart of Gold” and “The History of The Eagles.”

I couldn’t have been happier when essayist Dave Pezza informed me that Grohl was taking his documentary skills on the road in HBO’s “Sonic Highways.” The series documents the recording process Grohl and the Foo Fighters embarked on for the band’s eighth studio album. One song was written and recorded in eight recording studios across the United States (four of the songs are currently available on iTunes).

What I love most about the show is that the themes Grohl touched on in his Grammys speech and “Studio City”—the importance of retaining the human element in your work and the art of imperfection—are ingrained in each episode. He doesn’t Grohl doesn’t necessarily focus on the more well-known artists of each city. In particular, the Washington D.C. episode featured an underground punk music scene that I had absolutely no idea existed, which once again proves that society’s good stuff is rarely found on the surface. If you’re a writer who wants to accurately form a believable world in your fiction, you have to know how people around you are reacting to media, music, and information.

In the series’ premiere set in Chicago, Grohl talked to Buddy Guy about his journey to the city and friendship with Muddy Waters. You know what Guy said when they told him to change his name? “Fuck you.” Because that’s what badass writers and musicians do when facing authority. Guy was also so poor at one point; he made music with buttons and string.

Try not getting chills listening to this extended interview with Guy:    

Writing, at its core, is a solitary act. At each stop, Grohl locked himself in a room to hammer out lyrics. However, each city’s stories and characters influenced the words he finally put on the page. You hear Guy’s struggle in Chicago’s white world in “Something From Nothing,” the punk angst of D.C.’s youth in “The Feast and the Famine,” and Nashville’s country music influence in “Congregation.” However, none of these songs are transcendent rock tunes, which proves errant notes, misguided lyrics, and unpolished production all have value in making music listener’s might actually want to hear and share.

I was utterly blown away by the inspirational power of the series’ third installment because I grew up on country music. And I mean real country music, not what Dan Auerbach of The Black Keys called “pop music with a twang.” My mother made sure I had a steady diet of Ronnie Milsap, George Strait Kenny Rogers, Johnny Cash, Rodney Crowell, Dolly Parton, Reba McEntire, Charlie Pride, and Vince Gill as a kid and I believe their storytelling influenced my decision to become a writer. I had chills learning more about Nashville’s history and some of its lesser known acts. Tommy Joe White (who I’d like to narrate my life from now on) delivered a soliloquy on writing and creatively that is one of the best things I’ve heard come out of an artist’s mouth in quite some time:     

“So if you’ve got something in your heart, put it out, ‘cause nobody on this planet has put those words or played that lick before. No matter if it’s bad or good or it sells or don’t sell. You wrote it and you did it. Write what’s in your heart. And if you don’t have something there, maybe you should go back to the cotton fields.”

So, watch the upcoming episode of “Sonic Highways” airing tonight at 11 p.m. on HBO, sit your ass down with your preferred writing instruments, and get to work.

Full Circle: True Detective Proves Character Trumps Plot

By Daniel Ford

Contains spoilers, so avoid this post and the rest of social media until you’ve watched it.

Any finale that includes someone catching an ax in the chest is a successful one in my book.

While some may have be bummed last night after finding out none of their truly insane fan theories didn’t come to pass, I for one applaud HBO’s latest hit show "True Detective" for confirming something that I’ve believed for a long time.

Plot really doesn’t matter. It just doesn’t.

The mystery involving the creep-tastic Errol Childress—who for me was nudged into an upper tier of chilling bad guys after using multiple accents and having sex his half-sister in a house even “Hoarders” wouldn’t touch—was a vehicle for the audience to learn more about what really matters in any scripted television show or novel: The characters.

I would have watched eight episodes of Rust Cohle speaking Nietzsche-style gibberish, Marty Hart knocking bikers’ heads together and chasing “crazy pussy,” and all the plot points resolving off-camera. I’m also the guy who preferred to read Fyodor Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamazov instead of going to the bar the first few weeks of my freshman year in college. I love probing human nature, so I devour television shows and novels with meaty, frothy, troubled, depressed, tortured, and devastatingly human main characters like some people consume a bucket of fried chicken. The fact that the supporting cast wasn’t as fully formed didn’t bother me because Rust and Marty were written and acted so beautifully (I stopped debating whether it was Matthew McConaughey or Woody Harrelson that was giving the best performance. Both flat out nailed it).

I’m willing to bet once I start Nic Pizzolatto’s novel Galveston, I’m going to end up caring more about the characters than what happens in the plot. There are just so many more places to explore when you’re taking a good hard look at someone’s character creation. Why does he drink that bottle of whiskey? What is driving her to make those bad (or good) decisions? Where is the main character left after the plot reaches its climax?

Denouements exist for a reason. It’s like cuddling after sex. You find out more about the person you’re sleeping with in the moments following the passion than during it. You not only use and appreciate that knowledge the next time around, but also every day in order to fully understand the person you’re with. That’s what makes the end with Rust and Marty talking together outside the hospital so special. You know exactly where the two men have been, and you can make an educated guess to where they’re going.

However, I’m not convinced it’s the optimistic end that James Poniewozik of Time and others might think it is. Broken men don’t heal after one win, and both Rust and Marty are more damaged now than they were at the start. The light might be winning, as Rust says, but the feeling of euphoria is always momentary. Rust is still an atheist alcoholic. Marty is still an asshole.

And what did we learn from Don Draper? Happiness is the moment before you want more happiness. After Rust and Marty caught, shot, and killed who they thought was their man earlier in the season, some form of normalcy set in (Rust even had a steady girlfriend). Even if Rust hadn’t learned that the Yellow King was still out there, how long do you really think that kind of contentment would have lasted for him?

As Poniewozik and Alan Sepinwall of HitFix point out, the show was not without flaws and those flaws certainly made an appearance in the last episode. But it proves that good things happen when you have a singular vision coming from one writer and one director (Give Cary Fukunaga all the Emmys right now please). It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it certainly outshined “House of Cards” because it managed to develop at least two three-dimensional characters while servicing a plot that didn’t involve the Vice President of the United States being revealed as the Yellow King (Sorry, I’m out on “House of Cards.” Forgo the Ambien and just turn on an episode of that self-indulgent, “I’m the greatest show on television” snooze-fest. I’d rather watch an hour of Jim and Maggie relationship drama on “The Newsroom.” And I loathe those characters).

Will “True Detective” end up being considered as great as shows like “The Wire,” “Mad Men,” and “Breaking Bad?” No, of course not. As I mentioned before, those shows had (have) more depth. However, my love for this particular show will be rooted in getting the chance to spend some time with two gloriously conflicted assholes that just happened to be chasing a serial killer. Had this show been a novel, I would have stayed up just as late to find out what I already knew.

The circle is indeed infinite and flat, and not even stopping the bad men at the door could get it to open up or deviate course.