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Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Here's to Five Seasons and a Comic Book Series!

WordMaster

          On Friday, March 23, at precisely 9:00 pm, Fringe will return from its month-long hiatus with an episode called “A Short Story About Love” that sounds all but guaranteed to be spectacular, a season – or maybe even series – best (EW’s Jeff “Doc” Jensen has already given the episode an A, an extremely promising sign to say the least). Sadly, even if “A Short Story About Love” is the greatest hour in the history of TV, it will most likely make no more than a blip on the pop culture radar: the show’s fourth season has never managed to lure in more than 4 million viewers, leaving it on the verge of cancellation.

         I’m not going to deny that I’m writing this blog post for mostly selfish reasons. Fringe is far and away my favorite TV show currently on air, and the prospect of discovering it, only to have it snatched away from me so soon is like buying a new puppy and finding that it has mysteriously disappeared the next morning (having never owned a pet, I can’t attest to the accuracy of that thought with another thought’s hat, but you get my point). By now, I’m fully aware that television is a ruthless, unjust industry in which quality and ambition frequently go unrewarded – something that fans of Firefly, Arrested Development, Terriers and countless other shows learned the hard way – and I’ve accepted the fact that none of my favorite shows are ever going to be massive hits in the ratings. As much as I wish everyone shared my love for Community, for example, there is no way a quirky, esoteric show like Dan Harmon’s cult darling can beat a middle-of-the-road farce like Two and a Half Men. And you know what? I’m perfectly fine with that. It makes sense that the most popular shows would be ones that appeal to the broadest demographics – unscripted reality shows like American Idol, weekly procedurals like NCIS and innocuous sitcoms like The Big Bang Theory or Modern Family – while weirder, less conventional fare has to settle for niche appeal. Still, I don’t think it’s too much to ask that a show that consistently displays excellence, creativity and innovation be allowed to end on its own terms, if not for the show itself, then at least for the sake of the small yet devoted group of fans that has patiently watched the show grow and blossom.

         As I said, while I’m hoping against hope that Fringe manages to wring out a fifth season, I don’t mind the show’s cult status – in fact, it’s almost comforting to know that Fringe is unburdened by the sky-high expectations that plagued a certain other mythology-based show created by J.J. Abrams. But that does not change the fact that anyone not watching Fringe (or Community, Mad Men, Justified, etc.) is missing out on some damn good television. It may have started out as little more than a diverting, albeit uneven procedural arguably a tad too reminiscent of The X-Files, but by the end of its second season, Fringe had evolved into a mesmerizing slice of genre pulp unlike anything else, a daring, wildly inventive thriller that stimulates in equal measure the mind and the heart. Plus, it’s on Fox! In our post-Lost era, when original programming seems to be increasingly limited to cable, Fringe provides an encouraging reminder that TV doesn’t need colossal amounts of violence, profanity and sex in order to be provocative.
What, you may ask, makes Fringe so special? Why should I spend hours – days – of my life watching a TV show that might not even get a real ending? I’m glad you asked, and even if you didn’t, you’re getting the answer anyway, so you might as well make yourself comfortable.

        So, why is Fringe worth your time?

        Well, because it has one of the most undervalued casts on TV. John Noble captured viewers’ attention from day 1 for his portrayal of the eccentric, guilt-ridden scientist Walter Bishop, his uncanny ability to balance the character’s comical quirks and heartbreaking vulnerability; it is nothing short of bewildering that the Emmys have yet to recognize this nuanced, compassionate performance (on a side-note, even more outrageous is the fact that, despite being nominated 19 times, the actors of Mad Men have not won a single Emmy). Matching Noble step for step are Anna Torv and Joshua Jackson (in the roles of Olivia Dunham and Peter Bishop, respectively), who have gradually overcome some initial skepticism with their effortless chemistry and emotional finesse. By now, it’s impossible to say which of the three is most impressive. Then, there are supporting players Lance Reddick, Jasika Nicole, Blair Brown, Kirk Acevedo and Seth Gabel, who exhibit considerable generosity by never trying to steal the spotlight from the leads but also take full advantage of the opportunities given to them. It is also worth noting the numerous guest actors that pop in and out of various episodes; standouts include recurring visitor Orla Brady, Peter Weller (“White Tulip”), Martha Plimpton (“Northwest Passage”), Michael Eklund (“The Plateau”), Karley Scott Collins (“Subject 13) and John Pyper-Ferguson (“One Night in October”).

         Because David Robert Jones is a flat-out awesome villain. He’s only appeared in seven episodes to date, but Mr. Jones is easily one of the most enjoyable and memorable parts of Fringe. Portrayed with devilish delight by veteran Brit Jared Harris, who can convey more menace in a single raise of his eyebrow than most actors can in an entire monologue, he’s like Hannibal Lecter without the cannibalism: charismatic, brilliant and undeniably psychotic. He’s too unashamedly evil to be sympathetic (just watch the hospital scene in “Enemy of My Enemy”), but it’s a blast watching him manipulate and outwit his opponents.

         Because it’s a geek’s dream-come-true. When Fringe premiered, the relentless comparisons to The X-Files were more often than not used as criticism, but now, the nods and references to various movies, TV shows and other pop culture phenomena have become part of the show’s identity. Over the years, Fringe has directly or implicitly winked at everything from Lost and Star Trek to Se7en, The Twilight Zone, The Matrix, Inception and even Brigadoon. On any other show, all of these homages and allusions would probably feel like overload or just plain laziness, but here, they feel both appropriate and discreet, like gemstones waiting to be discovered. It’s easy to ignore if you couldn’t give two shits about pop culture or science-fiction, but if you’re like me and your conversations consist almost entirely of references and quotes from various forms of fiction, Fringe is a fantastic opportunity to indulge your inner (or outer) geek. For God’s sake, there even exists a graphic novel in which Peter and Walter send Adolf Hitler back in time to be eaten by dinosaurs! If that doesn’t make you giddy with joy, then I don’t know what to tell you.

        Because it looks stunning. Fringe isn’t exactly Avatar in terms of its visuals, but especially for network TV, it’s still gorgeous (at any rate, compared to Lost, it practically is Avatar). Boasting atmospheric set design, surprisingly decent CGI and envy-worthy costumes, the show makes good use of its apparently high budget; for proof, just look at this picture, which is literally the reason why I got interested in Fringe in the first place. Also, the last episode featured a scene of The Big Bang that I found more awe-inspiring than the much-hyped creation montage from The Tree of Life, perhaps because it actually made sense – and this is coming from someone who liked The Tree of Life.

        Because Olivia Dunham is a feminist protagonist in every sense of the word. Fringe may be classified as science-fiction noir, and for the most part, the show flaunts its genre origins like a badge of honor, but it also takes every opportunity to bend and twist conventions. Most notably, it subverts the notoriously misogynistic noir genre by inserting a woman into the traditional “detective” role. Tough, independent, fearless and ambitious, Agent Olivia Dunham is everything that a strong female character should be: she doesn’t take bullshit from anyone (least of all, men), she kicks ass and she’s complicated. While most contemporary action heroines come in the form of cold-blooded martyrs seeking to exact revenge on male bigots everywhere (think Lisbeth Salander), Olivia has none of those revolutionary pretenses; she’s simply a fierce, determined woman who does what it takes to get the job done, and while she is often emotionally detached, she doesn’t completely shun human relationships, romantic or otherwise. 

         Because it’s a worthy successor to Lost. If all the networks still desperately searching for “the next Lost” were paying attention, they’d know that we’ve already found it. Fringe may never obtain the titanic ratings or cultural significance of that landmark series, but the parallels between the two shows extend far beyond their shared creator, from their heavy science-fiction elements and labyrinthine mythology to their themes of faith, love and destiny. If anything, Fringe has improved upon its predecessor. Lost is and always will be my favorite TV show, but even I have to (grudgingly) admit that it had its fair share of flaws, many of which Fringe has identified and corrected. Whereas Lost boasted a sprawling ensemble cast, Fringe keeps its scope small, ensuring that regardless of how convoluted the plot gets, the show never loses sight of its characters and their individual journeys, and lending it a comforting intimacy that Lost couldn’t quite maintain after its third season. More importantly, however, Fringe has noticeably shunned Lost’s enigmatic exploration of spirituality in favor of a more logical, scientific approach. While I found Lost’s blatant religious implications intriguing, even inspiring, it is an understatement to say that most people reacted to the theological allegories and mystic elements that dominated the show’s sixth season with frustration. No doubt wanting to avoid the controversy that greeted the finale of Lost, the people behind Fringe made sure to keep the show grounded in realism, and at least so far, they seem to understand that more often than not, it is better to provide answers that are predictable yet believable rather than attempt to blow audiences away with huge, out-of-left-field twists. After The X-Files, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Battlestar Galactica and Lost, I’m sure that fans of science-fiction TV are hungry for a show ending that lives up to expectations; could Fringe be the one to break the curse?

          Because it isn’t afraid to venture down the rabbit hole. Also unlike Lost, which started out as a relatively ordinary drama, Fringe let its freak flag fly right out of the gate, luring in viewers with a series of freaky, often grotesque mysteries. As the show progressed, its imagination has sprouted in all kinds of startling directions, stretching the boundaries of television. What other show would dare to do an entire episode centered around a neo-noir children’s story that not only has little connection to the actual plot but also involves periodic musical numbers? Or literally enter the minds of four different characters? Or pull off a storyline in which one actor is obligated to do an extended impression of Leonard Nimoy? And that’s not even mentioning the ingenious, mind-bending cases, most notably “Dream Logic”, “White Tulip”, “The Plateau”, “Marionette”, “One Night in October” and “And Those We Left Behind”.

          Because it’s simultaneously escapist and serious. On the surface, Fringe is an entertaining, adventurous mystery with a sci-fi twist, as evidenced by its brazen love of body-horror and its playful, lighthearted sense of humor (vagenda, n: 1. an act where a woman seduces a man for ulterior reasons, 2. the most awesome contribution of any TV show to the English language). And it can certainly work as pure escapism if you want it to. On another level, though, it’s a deft, surreptitiously timely conglomeration of various themes and issues, ranging from love, family and redemption to power, fate, identity and paranoia, and one of the most sensitive and subtle fictional portraits of post-9/11 America I’ve seen. By turns suspenseful, exhilarating, sinister, humorous, nostalgic, thought-provoking and poignant, Fringe truly has something for everyone.

           And lastly and most of all, because it has one of the best onscreen romances I’ve ever seen. That may sound like hyperbole or like I’ve got my priorities messed up, and maybe both of those possibilities are correct, but watching “A Better Human Being” a few weeks ago, I couldn’t help but realize how much I love Peter and Olivia as a couple. We’ve followed their relationship through four seasons’-worth of ups and downs, tentative hopes and disappointing setbacks, and during that time, it really feels as though we’ve gotten to know them – their dreams, their fears, their insecurities, their habits; at this point, it’s almost like watching an actual couple as they mature and attempt to navigate their complicated feelings for each other. In all the hundreds of movies and TV shows I’ve watched over the years, I don’t think I’ve ever rooted this wholeheartedly for two characters to find happiness together. Aided by the effortlessly endearing chemistry shared by Anna Torv and Joshua Jackson, the Fringe writers took a romance that could have been clichéd and strained and transformed it into something that feels utterly natural and sincere. When they talk, you get the sense that these people genuinely belong together, that they know each other through and through and have shared numerous memories and experiences unseen by viewers that shaped them both as a couple and as individuals. In short, they are a perfect pairing, which makes the near certain knowledge that their relationship is an ill-fated one all the more devastating – as Peter Bishop once said, all the best romances are tragedies.

         If you’ve managed to survive all of my tangents and too-earnest gushing, I think I can safely assume that you’re either already a Fringe fan – in which case, virtual hi-five! – or you’re at least semi-interested in the show. Whenever you get the chance, go ahead and buy or download the pilot from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, iTunes, Netflix, Sockshare.com or wherever (or if you want to dive into the deep end right off the bat, I’d recommend watching “Brown Betty”, which is both a terrific standalone episode and an effective entry test for prospective newcomers). I’ll wait. In the meantime, Fox, while you’re watching Glee crash and burn through six all-but-inevitable seasons and an already completed movie (not that anyone cared), do humanity a favor and give Fringe the fifth season it deserves. I promise we’ll thank you for it.

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