Terriers: The Little Series That Couldn't

We have failed as a society. There is no other way to explain the fact that shows like Jersey Shore, The Real Housewives of..., and Two and a Half Men draw huge ratings and go on for years, while this incredible show only got one season. Clearly, some of the blame must be given to F/X, which marketed the show horribly. I had no idea it was about private detectives until weeks after the show started, and even then, I didn't know what set the show apart from other procedurals (not realizing that this show is by no means a crime procedural show). The fact that F/X has gambled on shows like It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, about a group of unsypmathetic sociopaths, and Wilfred, a show about a suicidal man who has visions that his neighbors dog speaks to him (I have only seen the former, and it is amazing), I don't understand why they didn't promote the hell out of this, seeing as how it had incredible writing and acting. And yet, I am certain that, even with the greatest marketing campaign ever, Terriers would never have become a huge hit. At least not without a few years of word-of-mouth buildup (which is what happened with Always Sunny, along with the addition of Danny DeVito). Sigh.

Terriers was a show about bargain-basement private detectives. Hank Dolworth and Britt Pollack were unlicensed investigators who took every case they could get, most of which were seedy and toed the line between ethical and unethical. They did this not because they were rebels or bad people or looking to "stick it to the man." They did this because it was the only way they could survive; they lived from paycheck to paycheck (a term I use loosely, as they were usually paid in cash), and were often forced to make up excuses to their creditors. Most of their jobs came about through happenstance rather than through some kind of official bookings. But the show was about their lives, not their jobs. Nearly each episode featured a new case and client, but (1) there was an overarching plot that tied many of the cases together, and (2) most of the drama was based in how the characters acted with each other and the other people in their lives, rather than in the solutions to the mystery-of-the-week. We didn't care whodunnit, we cared how Hank and Britt would spend the money they earned from the client, or how they would act at home. Each character was richly developed and had intriguing backstories that were slowly revealed over the course of the season, informing their actions in the present.

Additionally, Hank and Britt were surrounded by very interesting supporting characters, who not only influenced how the pair acted, but were able to stand on their own. People like Hank's old police partner (from his life as a cop, which seemed like it existed in an entirely different lifetime from the one Hank is living in the show's present), Britt's girlfriend, and the pair's lawyer all contribute to the series and flesh out the world. By far my favorite character is Hank's sister (played by Donal Logue's, Hank's actor, real-life sister) Stephanie. She is, in many ways, similar to Firefly's River Tam, which gave me happy memories that show, which was also canceled too soon after a terrible marketing campaign and anemic ratings. She is the funniest character in a cast of very witty characters, and also is relevant to both Hank's personal story as well as the overall plot. (The show is similar to Veronica Mars and the works of Joss Whedon in terms of character wittiness.) The world is also fleshed out by the superb writing and planning; innocuous comments in one episode will get paid off many episodes later and take on new meaning when a new detail is revealed, making the show feel like a real world, rather than a story in which plot points are introduced in a way immediately alerting viewers to their importance.

Perhaps appropriately for a show that was canceled after a single incredible season is the theme of wasted potential. Terriers often examined the gap between the haves and have-nots, and explored how our world is inherently unfair, and even extremely talented people can, for whatever reason, fail to "make it." Sometimes it is due to circumstances beyond our control, such as the award-winning reporter who has been reduced to blogging for free because of the decline of the publishing industry. Sometimes it is due to the person in question sabotaging himself, such as the doctor who became an ice cream vendor after engaging in misconduct with a patient. Hank also falls into the latter category, due to addiction and obsession. As for Britt, while he is a very competent detective, his true talent lies in something he chose to give up for very good reasons.

One other thing that really set Terriers apart from other, more famous, detective shows was its portrayal of its leads and their relationship to their clients. I think it was in the third episode of the series that I realized just how good the show was and why I was drawn to it in the way I was. I have seen a few episodes of CSI, and I have never been able to get into it. For one thing, the characterization takes a back seat to plot. But there was something else; at first I thought that maybe the thing that rubbed me the wrong way was limited to the episodes I had seen, but I have since learned that it is a key aspect of that show, as well as Law & Order: SVU. (This link provides a good explanation; go down to CSI and SVU.) Namely, that the show treats things that deviate from what is "normal" is derided. The episode of CSI that sticks out in my mind was about a thin man who enjoyed sex with overweight women, so he would go to fat conventions to hook up with women. The team investigated his murder after he was accidentally crushed to death. The writers' attitude was clearly condescending toward his sexual proclivities, but this contempt was communicated not so much through the dialogue, but through how the case was presented. I saw this as very dishonest and cowardly, as if the writers were trying to put forth a shaming message without being willing to directly insult people. In the third episode of Terriers, the case involves the wife (played by Dollhouse's Olivia Williams) of a man who enjoys feeling cuckolded, something both Hank and Britt find disturbing. However, the show itself does not pass judgment on the guy, and instead points out that everyone is in some way "screwed up." By the time the episode is over, we see Britt's girlfriend Katie engage in a disturbing sexual fantasy of her own, while Hank does two things in rapid succession, one dishonest and one incredibly cruel. "Don't judge me," Katie says, summing up the episode.

Don't let the fact that this show was canceled after a single season dissuade you from watching it. The writers were clearly preparing for Season 2, but most of the storylines get closure, and regardless, this is an endlessly entertaining show. It is exciting, funny, thought-provoking, and challenging.

Torchwood: A Tale of Two Shows

I never thought I'd write about this show. I never thought I'd watch this show; I only became a Doctor Who fan a few months ago, after actively avoiding it for years. When this show premiered in 2006, its description sounded somewhat like something I'd like (at the time, I still really liked Stargate: SG-1, whereas my feelings toward it now are... complicated), but knowing it was a Doctor Who spin-off ultimately kept me away. I also forget whether I was aware of its critical reputation before recently. I'm sure I heard something about it, but it was so off my radar that I didn't really pay attention. Then the ads for the fourth series, a mini-series subtitled Miracle Day, were released. The idea of a world supposedly "blessed" by an undying population was certainly intriguing. Soon after, I began Doctor Who and realized what I had been missing. But even with the knowledge that Torchwood starred Capt. Jack Harkness, one of my favorite recurring characters from the Doctor Who, I still had little interest in watching this. The two things that finally caused me to want to watch it were the newer promos for Miracle Day and the reputation of the third series, the miniseries Children of Earth. Simultaneously, I learned that Children of Earth was supposedly amazing but that the first two series were terrible. I decided that I would gamble on the idea that the criticism of the first two years were hyperbolic and that I would be somewhat lost by jumping into the show in its third year. That was a gamble I lost. Hard.

The difference in quality between the first two series and Children of Earth is almost unreal. (I haven't started Miracle Day yet, but I will soon.) They are essentially two different shows. The first two years were set up as a monster-of-the-week type of show, in which Jack Harkness leads a team of people based in Cardiff, Wales in adventures tracking down extraterrestrial threats and technology. Of the 26 episodes that comprised these first two series, I think there were only five, at most, that I truly enjoyed. These episodes were marked by dumb plots, cringe-worthy dialogue, and awful characterization. Plot-wise, this is a show that featured two episodes in a row that ended with me thinking: "Wait, what just happened? No, seriously, what just happened?" I literally had no idea what the villains' plans were nor what the Torchwood team did to fight against the plans.

Many of the characterization issues were tied to the plot, as characters would act in ways to suit the plot, only for them to act completely different the next week. Possibly the most egregious example was in the universally-reviled episode "Cyberwoman," in which Ianto Jones, who would go on to be a fan-favorite, acted like the stupidest person on the planet, threatened his fellow teammembers both directly and indirectly, and was generally a terrible person. The character of Gwen was also a problem, as she was most definitely a Mary Sue who was almost always right about everything, despite being the newest team member, and was given a free pass by the writers to be irredeemably awful, and suffer no consequences. At one point, she demanded her boyfriend forgive her for having an affair, only to drug him so that he wouldn't remember her telling him about the affair. (The show in general was much too nonchalant about mind rape.) And then there was Jack. He drove me crazy on this show, because he changed from being a likeable scoundrel to a scoundrel who yelled a lot and was devoid of any good ideas. Furthermore, despite his actor John Barrowman proving on Doctor Who that he knows how to act, he seems to have forgotten how on Torchwood. For example, check out this scene from the end of the first series (spoilers, obviously):



However, I must give credit where credit is due. In the first two series, there were a few episodes that were genuinely good, and the writers at least had some balls, as they were not afraid to kill off characters. I guess one could argue that the two who died were the least developed and one who was hated by a significant portion of the fans. But it cannot be denied that the writers killed 2/5 of the cast, and, in my opinion, in a rather heart-wrenching manner. Furthermore, I had grown to really like the hated character. He was a callous jerk, but unlike most of the characters on the show, he was a consistenly callous jerk who was mostly fun to watch (ignoring the awful Fight Club episode that featured him heavily). But overall, the first two series of Torchwood amounted to some of the worst television I have ever intentionally watched.

But then came Children of Earth. It was... something different entirely:



Over the course of five episodes, Torchwood changed from a dumb monster-of-the-week series into one that explored engaging sociological issues. "How much would you sacrifice to save as many people as possible?" "If some people have to die, do you try to ensure that the 'right' people survive?" "How do you value one person's life over another?" (Based on the above trailer and what I'd heard about the series, I thought another theme would be "Imagine you were asked how far you would go to save your children, then imagine that everyone on Earth had been asked that question simultaneously." That ultimately did not come about, so I'll have to write that story myself.)

One source says that Russell T Davies initially wrote this as a story completely unrelated to the Doctor Who universe, then later adapted it to be a Torchwood story, which makes a lot of sense, as the Torchwood characters, while the heroes, get a much smaller percentage of screen-time than you'd think in their own show. But it works. Children of Earth is a story about the extremely dark and dirty nature of politics (a lesson I am being hit over the head with, as I am currently reading the first book in George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series, A Game of Thrones, and the dangers of the political life are at the heart of the story). The mini-series tells the story of a strange alien species that threatens to destroy the entire human race if its demands are not met, at the heart of which are our children. I doubt there is anything else on Earth that would, when threatened, induce the same kind of hysteria in people, so the governments know that they have to tread lightly. As the miniseries unfolds over five days (also aired over five consecutive days), the attitude changes from "there is no way we will give in to these demands" to "how do we choose which children to sacrifice," to much darker questions. Throughout, the members of the Torchwood team are forced to examine their pasts and futures, and wonder where to draw the line when determining when a "necessary evil" is in fact necessary and what it means to be a human in this world.

Unlike the first two years, nearly everything clicks in Children of Earth. The writing is superb, Barrowman remembers how to act, Gwen becomes tolerable, and the story is not only enjoyable (in the most depressing way possible) but actually makes you think. Furthermore, the characters finally act like humans. Jack and Ianto begin a relationship/fling in the first series, but you'd never know it but for a few random comments. Finally, they act like adults in some kind of relationship. The show also feels like its part of a world beyond Cardiff. Torchwood is an organization independent of the government, but throughout the first two years, it almost seemed as if the government was non-existent. Here, Torchwood is but one entity among many working to "protect" humanity. The most amusing thing, though, is that my reasons for slogging through the 26 episodes prior were rendered irrelevant, as any characterization necessary to understand the characters was established on Doctor Who. The worst tendencies of Gwen and Jack were stripped away (none of which were present on Doctor Who when they were guest stars), while nothing that happened to Ianto before the miniseries was relevant. The only things that would have been relevant were related to the characters Tosh and Owen, who both died. (Descriptions of the miniseries stated that Jack, Gwen, and Ianto would spend part of the miniseries dealing with their friends' deaths, but aside from one shot of a photo of the two of them, that didn't happen.)

I urge you to check out Children of Earth (and most likely Miracle Day, but I haven't seen any of it yet), but stay as far away as possible from the episodes before it, unless you are a glutton for punishment.