When Showtime’s The Affair premieres tonight, much
will rightly be written about its experimental approach to structure, form and
point of view. In its first episode, which is actually already available
online, the show dives into a tale of temptation and (potential) infidelity
that unfolds like a dream or a languid summer day, its serenity punctured every
so often by moments of unsettling tension.
It’s not just the unhurried pacing or the tone, calibrated to a tricky
but riveting balance between meditative and disquieting, that reminded me of The Leftovers, another premium cable
show that debuted this year. It’s the way they both bury deep into their
characters’ psyches, lingering in the most secretive, troubled spaces and
allowing that darkness to seep out and color the world around them. Though the
similarities might not continue beyond The
Affair’s first episode, from what I’ve seen, both shows seem intent on
wrenching their characters out of their sedate, comfortable lives and hurtling
them toward an undefined yet inevitable doom.
The Leftover’s apocalypse is a literal one. Thrown into a
collective existential crisis after the sudden, random disappearance of 2
percent of the world’s population, the residents of a suburban New York town
must grapple with broken families, the rise of strange cults as old belief
systems are shattered and new ones take hold, and the fact that, despite all
common sense and the desires of many, life insists on moving on almost as if
nothing had ever happened. By contrast, the concerns of The Affair are much more down-to-earth and mundane. Noah Solloway
(played by the reliably good Dominic West) lives in a spacious New York City
brownstone courtesy of his snobby but filthy rich father-in-law, is contentedly
married (his wife is played by Maura Tierney, so you know she’s lovely) with
four children, and has recently published his first book while still enjoying
his day job as a public school teacher. As Noah himself admits, it’s an idyllic
existence, one so often promised to everyone by politicians, Hollywood and advertisers
but that few people could ever hope to achieve. Yet, all it takes is one chance
encounter with a pretty waitress named Alison Lockhart (Ruth Wilson, a
revelation) for him to consider throwing it all away. This premise has been
done countless times before, and without a talented and, let’s be honest,
attractive cast and such ambitious writing and direction, the prospect of
spending every week watching privileged people being unhappy with their
privilege would’ve sounded insufferable (counterargument: Mad Men).
However, there’s much more going on beneath the surface of The Affair. The pilot is peppered with
moments of surreal dread: within the first fifteen minutes, Noah’s older son Martin
fakes a suicide attempt in an apparent bid for his father’s attention, and his
younger daughter almost chokes at the diner where Noah and Alison first meet; Noah
witnesses what he thinks is Alison being raped by her husband (a scruffy Joshua
Jackson), later revealed to actually be rough but consensual sex; and at one
point, Alison accidentally cuts her finger while chopping up vegetables. These
incidents lend an air of morbidity to what could’ve been a sexy romp of a show,
and they seemed too purposeful, too well-staged to be simply out-of-place,
unnecessary attempts at adding drama, though some critics apparently felt
differently. What made this contrast between the show’s tone and content
click for me was the second-half revelation that Alison had lost a child due to
as-yet-unknown circumstances, a tragedy that threw her marriage into turmoil
and has mired her in an aching, empty depression that many characters in The Leftovers could likely identify
with.
What I would give for
these two women to meet…Crossover, anyone?
In addition to foreshadowing the
affair and the way it will no doubt destroy both families, these incidents
served as memento mori, reminders that perfection and happiness
– at least the worldly kind that Noah has cultivated, the kind that Alison
perhaps had before she had to bury her child – are not only temporary, but
fragile illusions, shattered at even the slightest provocation. All of it is ultimately
useless anyway with death constantly approaching. It’s too early to say whether
this death will be literal or figurative (or most likely, both), but
regardless, it adds weight to Noah’s and Alison’s relationship, turning their
infidelity from a simple matter of spousal betrayal and into an intimate battle
over their souls. When Alison’s friend gives her an amateur tarot card reading,
she gets the Lucifer card, which suggests that temptation is coming, “something
powerful and wild” that “may be a very good thing, or he may enslave you”. When
she gives in, as we know she will, is that a sign of weakness, of the allure of
sin, or is it something more freeing, an acknowledgment of the superficiality
of such social constraints as monogamous, heterosexual marriage? I suspect the
show will find a middle ground, an approach that neither romanticizes nor
condemns their relationship. The Affair’s
apocalypse is a personal one.
It strikes me as significant
that both The Leftovers and The Affair primarily focus on characters
with privilege. These characters are predominantly white, heterosexual, economically
secure and part of nuclear families, the American Dream brought to (fictional)
life, and the inciting incidents of each show disrupt the sense of comfort
afforded them by these hegemonic structures. For the most part, these disturbances
are internal, the result of mental, emotional or moral uncertainty rather than
any real, material changes, but they’re enough to push these characters over
the edge and force them to question their sense of self. One of my favorite
things about both shows is their levelheaded, empathetic approach to
psychological disorders, particularly depression, and I’d love few things more
than seeing media move toward these more realistic depictions and away from the
nonsense peddled by shows like Hannibal.
People frequently treat mental illness as something that distorts reality. These
shows acknowledge that not only are mental illnesses reality to those who
experience them, but there’s no single, objective reality in the first place. What’s
often seen as “objective” reality and as normal is, in fact, shaped by those in
power, by media representations and language, by memory. The Leftovers and The Affair
ask what happens when that reality becomes undermined, when people no longer
want what they’re supposed to want or believe what they’ve been told to
believe, when they stop trying to be someone else and, instead, become who they
really are. As Alison says to Noah and his family when they first meet, welcome
to the end of the world.
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