I wanted to pull back and talk a little more broadly about why this season has been so disappointing relative to the first one. When
True Detective burst onto the scene last year, it was big and strange and mesmerizing. There were the marvelous narrative-temporal gymnastics, somersaulting backward and forward between 1995 and 2012. There was the wild, Lovecraftian mystery behind the actual murders: Carcosa and the Yellow King, the black stars and the five men. (Sure,
none of this actually led anywhere, but it was utterly fascinating right up until the
final episode.) And finally, there was Rust Cohle, a sometimes maddening but mostly riveting updating of a great literary archetype: Holmes,
Stephen Maturin, and in some ways even Don Quixote.
Was any of it ever moderately realistic? Of course not. Did it matter? Same answer. It was a larger-than-life exercise in Grand Guignol style and sensibility. Realism was beside the point.
The central problem with this season, as I see it, is that it’s lost that hallucinatory ambition while gaining little or nothing in the realism department. With the exception of an occasional and seemingly random detail—Caspere’s burnt-out eyes, the bird-headed assassin, Ray’s Conway Twitty
death-dream—Pizzolatto has basically given us a straightforward police procedural. This season was initially billed as concerning “the secret occult history of the U.S. transportation system,” but somewhere in the process—from the looks of it, rather late in the process—Pizzolatto
discarded the idea in favor of “closer character work and a more grounded crime story.” And, to date at least, the tradeoff has been a losing one.
It’s true that none of this season’s characters have the magnificent implausibility of Rust Cohle. But that doesn’t mean that any of them are actually plausible. As you guys have both noted, their dialogue often sounds like some late-night game of hard-boiled one-upmanship at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. (“Never lost a tooth. Never even had a fecking cavity.” “You took her knife. You said you didn’t want anything else.”) Every one of the principal characters is still being oversold by Pizzolatto. It’s just not clear that any of them are worth buying at this point, in part because they’re so undifferentiated. Ray and Ani and Paul and Frank all have parental issues, and sex issues, and intimacy issues, and violence issues, and (with the possible exception of Frank) substance-abuse issues. They’re almost interchangeable apart from the facts that Ani’s a woman, Frank’s a crook, and Paul is sexually confused. And there are just too many of them to be allotted the individual attention that Rust and Marty received last season.
As a result, I’ve found this season to be a kind of fictional-representation version of the “
uncanny valley” phenomenon: neither realistic enough to be persuasive (like, say,
The Sopranos or
The Wire), nor enough of an outright fantasy (like season one) to be enjoyed on its own terms, however unrealistic. I’d love for this to change, but with each passing week it seems less likely that it will.