There are Two Kinds of Pain

In the pilot episode of House of Cards, Frank Underwood (Kevin Spacey) talks about the two kinds of pain – the kind that is motivating and the kind that is useless. I’m going to posit that there’s a third kind which is the pain you feel that is half confusion about where the hell something is going, particularly when before it seemed like things were on track.

"Francis, Air Force One seems to have gone off course..."

Warning from here on out: I’m going to get mildly spoiler-y, but nothing major. Still, if you haven’t watched season three yet and you really don’t want to know anything about the outlines of some major storylines, go watch it and then come back.

We’ve talked about House of Cards before. Gushed about it, even. And while there have always been aspects to the show that didn’t exactly ring true to reality (it is television, after all), I, at least, have always appreciated the verisimilitude put forth by the show. Even when characters were doing things that no real politico would ever do, the show was trying to so hard to adhere to the look and feel of reality it helped to go a long way to excusing the need for dramatic license.

Now? Ugh. You guys, I’m just not sure anymore. Maybe it’s because so much of the action has moved away from Congress, a body that I understood even if I found it nutty, to the White House, which no matter how accurate the setting, it’s always going to be compared to The West Wing. But either way, the cracks are starting to show.

Some of those cracks just feel like stories that the writers have written themselves into the corner with. Case in point: The quickly disappearing prostitute. Remember Rachel? Didn’t she do something back in season one? How many of you remember what it was? Since then, we’ve gotten two years of Rachel either hanging out somewhere doing nothing or gone completely into hiding. Her only reason for remaining a character on the show is to further illustrate what a creep Doug Stamper is. She’s his plot point, not her own. What’s more, her brief appearances in season three actually kind of make Doug into something even worse: a boring creep. His entire arc in the season is to find Rachel and… what? Kill her? Rape her? Own her somehow? All we know is his intentions are clearly not good and for some reason he can’t get past them, even after she bashed his face in last season and left him for dead. While we do finally get some closure to this story, its closure that should have come two years ago.

Rachel, is it? Go buy yourself a nice condo in Vegas, Sweetie. It'll work out better.

The bigger cracks, unfortunately, are reserved for Frank and Claire themselves. House of Cards has always been about the intrigues and chess moves that make Washington a favorite topic for anyone writing a suspense thriller.  Likewise, its biggest flaw has always been that Frank and Claire are portrayed not only as master manipulators but as essentially the only master manipulators in town. For every scheme they hatch, there is literally almost no one who has any kind of counter-scheme, a concept that is about as far away from reality in Washington as is possible. Now, Frank has maneuvered his way into the Presidency and from the Bully Pulpit has decided to… do a reasonable job.

The intrigues that made seasons one and two so watchable are all but gone here. There’s a half-hearted attempt to establish a new level of intrigue by making this season’s “Big Bad” a very thinly veiled stand-in for Vladimir Putin, but it never quite moved beyond a simmering boil. To say nothing of the fact that anyone who has truly been paying attention to someone who is as good at double-speak and reactive tactics as the real life Putin could see half of his ploys coming from a mile away. It just doesn’t feel like any of the story rings true with anything approaching that verisimilitude I mentioned earlier.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of how not-Putin I am."

Then there’s the domestic agenda. Frank Underwood, a democrat, spends his political capital as a relatively unpopular, unelected President trying to do away with social security.  Never mind that social security is called the third rail of politics for a reason or that both Republicans and Democrats don’t go anywhere near it. The show makes a half-hearted attempt to explain this away by saying that the needs of the sweeping social program don’t meet the needs of today before getting into some truly wonky talk about a new jobs program, the details of which are of course never discussed (fair enough – this is entertainment, not a real campaign). And while in life there is a certain truth to the fact that social security is a system in need of repair or revamping, the fact remains that no politician seeking reelection, even one as bold and unhindered by impossible odds as Frank Underwood, takes that kind of a risk. And, more importantly, the show never makes it clear why Frank wants this program to succeed. Is it to have another thing that he “wins” at? Something to cement his legacy? Or just because he thinks it’s the right thing to do?

All of which leads to the biggest crack: the Underwoods are, like, nice. Power may corrupt, but for most of season three it turned the two of them into civic-minded public servants. Think about it: In the first episode of season one, Frank strangles a dog with his own bare hands. Sure, he does it out of some twisted rationalization that it’s better for the wounded dog to die quickly instead of suffer longer in pain, but it’s not like there aren’t animal hospitals in Georgetown.  Now he’s just sort of vaguely wormy, trying to maneuver candidates so that he can have the best possible field to himself when running for President. Claire used to be the woman who used that utterly sweet and kind voice to mock a dying man in his hospital bed who had just confessed that he loved her, telling him that not only was that feeling never going to be returned but he was pretty much an idiot for even thinking that telling her would do anything. And that’s before she told one of her former employees who was making life difficult for her that she would purposefully withhold prenatal insurance coverage for the pregnant employee if she didn’t give up her lawsuit. (I believe her exact line to the employee was “I will let your unborn child wither away inside you.”) Flash forward to now and she is ambassador to UN and spending nights in jail to protest a political prisoner’s capture in Russia.

Watching characters grow and change is good; characters that evolve are far more interesting than ones that are static or worse, evil just because. That said, the Underwoods’ growth is almost done in the wrong direction. Unlike real life, we don’t want to watch the Underwoods get redeemed, we want to see them make a mess of things. House of Cards isn’t A Christmas Carol, its Macbeth. The more the Underwoods use their powers for good rather than pure self-interest, the less interested we are in them. And while that trajectory starts to get a bit wobbly toward the end of the season, the characters’ motivations are far more left in the bright center rather than the dingy perimeters.

Yes, that's more like it. Now, more spot-cleaning. Could we possible get three weird sisters on set?

Much like Frank Underwood himself, rising up to the most powerful job on the planet a mere two-ish years after being denied a cabinet position, House of Cards is starting to feel like it has peaked too soon. And while the show sets up its next Big Bad, presumably in the form of an opposing candidate for the presidential campaign that is just beginning at the end of season three, it’s hard to see how much more of this story there is to tell without moving into the inevitable final act: downfall. We’ve seen Frank and Claire rise; the only thing left is for them to fall. If the show can’t get there quickly, we’re going to be all out of reasons to keep watching the realistic sets. 

House of Cards, Guvner.

Warning: mild plot spoilers for the American and British versions of House of Cards.

We all know that Netflix recently debuted its first original series, House of Cards, and made all 13 episodes available for streaming. But you may not know that the American series (starring Kevin Spacey) is actually adapted from a British miniseries (also called House of Cards and starring Ian Richardson). And in my opinion, the British version is far superior.

My fellow TV Slut Clovis recently wrote about the American version of House of Cards, and I agree with his assessment. The show is certainly engaging (some might even say addicting) and the relationship between Congressman Francis Underwood and his wife, Claire, is fascinating. And I also think that Clovis got it right when he pointed out that the Washington depicted in the show does not really exist and the writing is not always up to par.

But do you want to watch a version of the show that fixes these problems? Watch the British miniseries from the 1980s. It's also available on Netflix streaming (at least usually--when I tried to watch it last night I got a "content unavailable" message. Coincidence? I think not. I bet Netflix wants you to only watch their version of the story).

The British series follows a similar plot as the American version and is based on the novel House of Cards by Michael Dobbs. From wiki:

"The antihero of House of Cards is Francis Urquhart, a fictional Chief Whip of the Conservative Party, played by Ian Richardson. The plot follows his amoral and manipulative scheme to become leader of the governing party and, thus, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom."

See what I mean about the similarities? Francis Urquhart is also the whip of the controlling party and is also denied a senior cabinet position in the new government, much like Francis Underwood is denied the position of Secretary of State.  There are also other plot similarities: both men begin a relationship with a young reporter in an effort to control the media's message and both resort to murder to get what they want. Oh, and both have STONE COLD wives who are supportive of their various machinations.

But that's basically where the similarities end. Because where Underwood is sneaky and manipulative...Urquhart is full on maniacal and sociopathic. You think the things Underwood does are under-handed? Bitch, please. Urquhart brings down the government and delights in it. He revels. When he turns to the camera and delivers his monologues there is such an air of menace and malice that it will freeze your blood.

Ian Richardson has already come up with 10 ways to kill you. THROUGH THE COMPUTER.

In the American version, you get the feeling Underwood does these things because it's really the option left to him. He tried playing the game as a good guy and now it's time to change the rules. But that feeling of revenge fizzles out after the first few episodes and we are left with a man's naked ambition. But for Urquhart, it's all about full on Shakespeare "dish best served cold" style. He is going to make those bitches PAY. Also, while the characters both perform similar roles in their quest for power (lover to a reporter, murderer), please believe me when I say that Urquhart's are FAR MORE fucked up.

He makes her call him "Daddy."

Have you ever seen Othello? You know those parts where Iago is delivering his monologues and really lets his crazy shine through, but then he turns to the other characters and seamlessly plays the "just one of the boys best friend" part? Ian Richardson has that shit down cold.  The other characters continually underestimate Urquhart because he just seems like an old stodger. But then you get a glimpse at the man's mind and his plans...and damn. You really believe he could contrive to rule the world.

Andrew Davies (the acclaimed British screenwriter whom you might know from Pride and Prejudice and Bleak House) wrote the original House of Cards and the quality of the writing and acting is astounding. Not that Kevin Spacey is a slouch, but Ian Richardson brings the full force of his Shakespearean training to the part. There's a gleam in his eye and a song in his heart as he takes down the government, and you'll find yourself riveted. He often spoke about he used Richard III as a model for the character...and it shows.

The original House of Cards was recommended to me by a college government professor. I first watched it in...say 1999...and it has stayed with me ever since. While watching the American version, I couldn't help but think*, "this could never actually happen." First of all, no American politician is that smart. Second, the situations and manipulations just never seem real. But something about the British version...y'all it feels REAL. And that's the most terrifying part.

The British House of Cards (called The House of Cards Trilogy (BBC)) is available from Netflix streaming and on DVD. It consists of three miniseries, House of Cards, To Play the King, and The Final Cut.

*Watching the American version also made me think, "I wish I was watching the British version."

My Kind of Love Story

In honor of Valentine's Day this week, I'd like to introduce you all to my favorite new television power couple. Before you go too hearts-and-flowers over them though, know this: these two routinely cheat on each other, scheme, plot to overthrow the government and take cold-hearted revenge on anyone and everyone. So why is this a love story, then? Because irrespective of all the rest of it, the one thing they never do is lie to each other. Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Frank and Claire Underwood, the main characters of House of Cards.

"What say we blow this charity event and bathe in the blood of our enemies tonight?"

House of Cards is a political thriller set in Washington, DC (yay local locations!) and directed by David Fincher, who brings the same murky, moody color palate he gave to the films The Social Network and Fight Club. The story centers on Frank Underwood (played by Kevin Spacey), the Democratic House Majority Whip from South Carolina. Frank has been promised by the newly-elected President that he will be made Secretary of State, however when the President reneges on his promise at the last minute, Frank bitterly begins to plan an elaborate plot to get even with the other Washington players who have stolen his chance for glory. Swept up in the intrigue is a Congressman from Pennsylvania with a secret substance abuse problem, a young political reporter eager for a Deep Throat to call her own and more high end prostitutes than you can shake a stick at.

While the intrigue is definitely the driving factor behind the show, the emotional core is Frank’s relationship with his wife, played ice-cool by Robin Wright. Wright’s Claire is the head of an environmental non-profit that stands to gain significantly if Frank gains more power and Claire is more than willing to stand with him in his machinations to get the job done.

I love how Spacey and Wright play their relationship. They’re vicious and ambitious and brilliantly power hungry. They manipulate everyone around them, from their own staff to a man dying of cancer (really) to the security guards hired to protect them. The only people they don’t manipulate is each other, because they understand each other and genuinely love each other so much. Franks says of Claire that he loves her “more than sharks love blood” and we understand exactly the nature of their relationship. Even when Frank begins an “illicit” affair with a reporter, the first thing he does is rush home to tell Claire what he’s done, not out of contrition or guilt but for what it could do for their plans. Claire, for her part, instantly recognizes the potential and encourages it. Ozzie and Harriet, they aren't.

There's also a drunk, naked Congressman. But who doesn't have one of those in their bathtub, really?

The fact that they are so much in each other’s camp makes the few times when their relationship is truly tested all the more fascinating to watch. In the first episode, as Frank is blindsided by the news that he’s been betrayed and won’t be nominated for the Secretary of State, he sullenly checks out for a day and doesn't talk to Claire until later that night. Claire, no intellectual slouch, has already figured out what has happened and demands to know why he didn't call her. When Frank says he’s sorry, she walks out of the room, calmly disgusted at him. “My husband doesn't apologize,” she says. “Not even to me.”

It’s tempting then to see Claire as the instigator for what happens next, but she’s no Lady MacBeth spurring her husband on to murder. They’re absolutely equal partners in their machinations. If anything, they’re far more like a more successful and angrier version of Les Miserables’ Thenardiers, paying false deference to people who have more power than them (for the moment), but knowing that it will all soon change.That said, the influence of Shakespeare is all over the show. Reductively, it’s a modern retelling of MacBeth with a bit of Richard III thrown in. Even Spacey’s many asides where he speaks directly through the camera to the audience to illustrate his internal monologue or bring the viewer into his confidence about how other characters will act echo Shakespearean characters’ long soliloquies. Fans of Shakespeare will also recognize the epic plotting and gigantic emotions that are also hallmarks of his work.

False piety, for example.

Given the pedigree, it's surprising that one of the only shortcomings is in the writing. The series is written by Beau Willimon who most recently wrote the play Farragut North which was turned into the movie Ides of March. Willimon really believes that his “Washington insider” status lends a kind of verisimilitude to his work, which frankly is not large and his only real successes have focused on behind the scenes Washingtonia. The problem? He’s not that accurate. Willimon writes a Washington that behaves the way Hollywood imagines it is, not like the way it actually does. He knows just enough to be inaccurate. He understands some of the more technical aspects of American politics correctly but misses by a mile when it comes to writing the way politicos, reporters, staffers and informants actually speak and act. For a series that is trying so hard to seem gritty and accurate to life, to have characters say things that actual insiders would never say feels particularly jarring. Still, the pacing of the show is excellent and when Willimon can tear himself away from congratulating himself in writing for his four month long internship on the Hill that he did five years ago, he can put together a bunch of really compelling characters and really solid drama.

The entire first season of House of Cards is available only on Netflix instant. Well worth losing your weekend over this one, folks.