Opining on House of Cards
Apr. 2nd, 2014 06:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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radiumhead asked for a post about House of Cards, which I said I'd write once I'd finished the second season of the American one. It turns out I have Thoughts! Many Thoughts.
So, for those of you who have somehow missed this weird bit of popular culture, there are two House of Cards TV shows. One is a BBC series from I think the 90s starring Ian Richardson, the other is Netflix's interesting experiment with the binge-watching model, starring Kevin Spacey. They're both based on novels by Michael Dobbs, which I haven't read (anyone? should I bother?) and follow the adventures of the amoral whip of the party in power (Tories in the BBC version, Democrats in the Netflix one, more on that in a bit) who gets passed over for promotion and, in revenge, destroys everyone until he's on top.
When the Netflix series came out, PopeJohn tried to get me to watch it, and I was kind of like, "ummm, don't really like American political dramas," thinking that it would be like The West Wing. This may surprise some of you but I find American politics duller than the politics of practically any other country. It's not like there's a lot of variation in the political discourse of, say, Canadian politics, but it's still a greater scope than is allowed in American politics. Then he told me that the first scene is Kevin Spacey killing a dog and I decided to give it a chance.
(Because I love manipulative amoral protagonists more than cake, okay? Don't judge me. My formative years were in the grimdark 90s and I can't help it.)
I thought the first Netflix series was quite good. PopeJohn then told me that in the BBC one, they kill Thatcher, so I watched it assuming that it would be better. It was. (I mean, are you surprised? I like the non-American versions of most things better than the American versions.)
So there are two main distinctions I'd make beyond the obvious things (production values, length, etc.). The first is the political-cultural—how America's essentially optimistic and homogeneous political culture works against the cynicism of the show; the second is the difference between the British television tradition and the American one.
The latter is a simpler thing to tackle, so I'll start there. It's a distinction I know about courtesy of The TARDIS Eruditorum (which is a great blog if you're into Doctor Who, by the way), which had a whole long post about how America is all about the method acting and Britain is all about the theatrical tradition, which largely amounts to television that's essentially ugly middle-aged dudes talking at each other. Richardson is so obviously a Shakespearean stage actor that I didn't need to look that up (but I did need to look up his name). The structure of the show is theatrical. Urquhart's asides—which do show up in the Netflix version, but come off as much weirder there—suggest the stage rather than the box. When I watch the Netflix version, I see Spacey playing Underwood brilliantly. When I watch the BBC version, I see Urquhart, which is why I had to look up who played him.
I can't say that the ugly middle-aged dudes talking at each other works for all formats—note that newer BBC shows aren't like that for the most part—but it works for political drama. The BBC House of Cards is over-the-top stylized, which renders the mundane political discussions poetic. The political scenes in the Netflix version had me yawning; many of Underwood's manipulations were lost on me because I stopped paying attention.
A segue here, I think, is to point out (as others before me have) that Urquhart is substantially more evil than Underwood. It's a factor of both the stylization—a Shakespearean tragedy can afford to have a completely evil, unsympathetic protagonist, and the differing political contexts. Spacey's Underwood is sympathetic, and the narrative has you rooting for him most of the time. Despite the POV bias (which I think I discussed that time I did a post about Breaking Bad), I don't think you are ever supposed to root for Urquhart. He's a monster and completely irredeemable, something that you can't do in American drama that is actually supposed to be serious.
Obviously this is somewhat related to the politics, as Urquhart is an evil Tory doing these things mainly for kicks and because he's trying to preserve the status quo against upstarts like Thatcher and those grimy Labour types, and Underwood is a nasty bugger but he's a Democrat, so the alternative is always slightly worse. I'm not sure that America can do pessimistic politics in the way that the British do; even in dystopian fiction, Katniss Everdeen kinda triumphs whereas poor Winston ends up loving Big Brother. And it's that underlying optimism that makes for compelling drama but also made me far more impressed by the BBC version, which pulls exactly zero punches.
Which is weird, because you actually can have a scrappy underdog in British politics, whereas you can't in American politics. Underwood may be less of a rich fuck than some of the Republicans, but there is no politician in that series who is not a rich fuck. At least in the 90s, you could have these sons of coalminers in the Labour Party that were kind of cool. (By the way, see A Very British Coup, which is about one of those scrappy underdogs winning, at least for a bit.)
In the original, the second series is a power struggle between Urquhart, who having gotten himself as high up as he can in the political structure, gets bored and decides to get into it with a socially progressive king. They obviously can't do a thing like that in the American series, so it becomes a power struggle between Underwood and a billionaire and a sleazy rich lawyer, and this is just not as much fun as a situation where the narrative forces you to root against the main character. Also, the politics just aren't as interesting, though I loved the internal scenes within the Democratic party as the right-wing, represented by Underwood's forces, got into conflict with the slightly less right-wing.
The other difference that I noticed is how uncomfortable American fiction, in general, is around class. You can't have debonaire villains in America. It's not that there isn't hereditary class privilege—there of course is—but it's disguised under this rugged individualist aesthetic. Urquhart gets to kill a dog too, but the class and narrative ramifications are different. Underwood snaps the dog's neck in a mercy killing, out of necessity, with his own hands, and this is a brilliant establishing moment that shows him as both pragmatic and admirable (he could call someone else to do it, but he does his own dirty work, dammit). Whereas Urquhart's killing is at a distance, with a hunting rifle—that symbol of upper class twatitude—and is all about power and the reestablishment of the old order. This is also a narrative distance that echoes the stylization of the series and reminds you that however much you're about to cheer at the scene that immediately follows (because you are; I did) you are never invited to sympathize or identify with this guy.
Anyway! Let's talk about what the Netflix series has going for it. Robin Wright. God, she is amazing. She is by far the best thing about the show, and far better than her equivalent in the BBC one. I could watch that woman all day. Also Molly Parker. I will watch Molly Parker in anything. In general, I like the gender representation in the American one much better; the BBC version had its badass ladies, but they weren't given as much focus. The drawn-out timeline works better too—the side characters are compelling enough, and one gets the sense of an actual universe rather than a claustrophobic stage.
I also love that there's a positive depiction of polyamorous, bisexual people. I mean, they're evil, but their relationships aren't. I haven't seen much like that lately outside of Lost Girl.
However, the BBC version kills off Thatcher in a brilliant sequence that I won't describe here other than it made me fall off the couch laughing, so it wins in my heart forever.
P.S.bcholmes, it is now time for me to start watching Hannibal.
radiumhead asked for a post about House of Cards, which I said I'd write once I'd finished the second season of the American one. It turns out I have Thoughts! Many Thoughts.So, for those of you who have somehow missed this weird bit of popular culture, there are two House of Cards TV shows. One is a BBC series from I think the 90s starring Ian Richardson, the other is Netflix's interesting experiment with the binge-watching model, starring Kevin Spacey. They're both based on novels by Michael Dobbs, which I haven't read (anyone? should I bother?) and follow the adventures of the amoral whip of the party in power (Tories in the BBC version, Democrats in the Netflix one, more on that in a bit) who gets passed over for promotion and, in revenge, destroys everyone until he's on top.
When the Netflix series came out, PopeJohn tried to get me to watch it, and I was kind of like, "ummm, don't really like American political dramas," thinking that it would be like The West Wing. This may surprise some of you but I find American politics duller than the politics of practically any other country. It's not like there's a lot of variation in the political discourse of, say, Canadian politics, but it's still a greater scope than is allowed in American politics. Then he told me that the first scene is Kevin Spacey killing a dog and I decided to give it a chance.
(Because I love manipulative amoral protagonists more than cake, okay? Don't judge me. My formative years were in the grimdark 90s and I can't help it.)
I thought the first Netflix series was quite good. PopeJohn then told me that in the BBC one, they kill Thatcher, so I watched it assuming that it would be better. It was. (I mean, are you surprised? I like the non-American versions of most things better than the American versions.)
So there are two main distinctions I'd make beyond the obvious things (production values, length, etc.). The first is the political-cultural—how America's essentially optimistic and homogeneous political culture works against the cynicism of the show; the second is the difference between the British television tradition and the American one.
The latter is a simpler thing to tackle, so I'll start there. It's a distinction I know about courtesy of The TARDIS Eruditorum (which is a great blog if you're into Doctor Who, by the way), which had a whole long post about how America is all about the method acting and Britain is all about the theatrical tradition, which largely amounts to television that's essentially ugly middle-aged dudes talking at each other. Richardson is so obviously a Shakespearean stage actor that I didn't need to look that up (but I did need to look up his name). The structure of the show is theatrical. Urquhart's asides—which do show up in the Netflix version, but come off as much weirder there—suggest the stage rather than the box. When I watch the Netflix version, I see Spacey playing Underwood brilliantly. When I watch the BBC version, I see Urquhart, which is why I had to look up who played him.
I can't say that the ugly middle-aged dudes talking at each other works for all formats—note that newer BBC shows aren't like that for the most part—but it works for political drama. The BBC House of Cards is over-the-top stylized, which renders the mundane political discussions poetic. The political scenes in the Netflix version had me yawning; many of Underwood's manipulations were lost on me because I stopped paying attention.
A segue here, I think, is to point out (as others before me have) that Urquhart is substantially more evil than Underwood. It's a factor of both the stylization—a Shakespearean tragedy can afford to have a completely evil, unsympathetic protagonist, and the differing political contexts. Spacey's Underwood is sympathetic, and the narrative has you rooting for him most of the time. Despite the POV bias (which I think I discussed that time I did a post about Breaking Bad), I don't think you are ever supposed to root for Urquhart. He's a monster and completely irredeemable, something that you can't do in American drama that is actually supposed to be serious.
Obviously this is somewhat related to the politics, as Urquhart is an evil Tory doing these things mainly for kicks and because he's trying to preserve the status quo against upstarts like Thatcher and those grimy Labour types, and Underwood is a nasty bugger but he's a Democrat, so the alternative is always slightly worse. I'm not sure that America can do pessimistic politics in the way that the British do; even in dystopian fiction, Katniss Everdeen kinda triumphs whereas poor Winston ends up loving Big Brother. And it's that underlying optimism that makes for compelling drama but also made me far more impressed by the BBC version, which pulls exactly zero punches.
Which is weird, because you actually can have a scrappy underdog in British politics, whereas you can't in American politics. Underwood may be less of a rich fuck than some of the Republicans, but there is no politician in that series who is not a rich fuck. At least in the 90s, you could have these sons of coalminers in the Labour Party that were kind of cool. (By the way, see A Very British Coup, which is about one of those scrappy underdogs winning, at least for a bit.)
In the original, the second series is a power struggle between Urquhart, who having gotten himself as high up as he can in the political structure, gets bored and decides to get into it with a socially progressive king. They obviously can't do a thing like that in the American series, so it becomes a power struggle between Underwood and a billionaire and a sleazy rich lawyer, and this is just not as much fun as a situation where the narrative forces you to root against the main character. Also, the politics just aren't as interesting, though I loved the internal scenes within the Democratic party as the right-wing, represented by Underwood's forces, got into conflict with the slightly less right-wing.
The other difference that I noticed is how uncomfortable American fiction, in general, is around class. You can't have debonaire villains in America. It's not that there isn't hereditary class privilege—there of course is—but it's disguised under this rugged individualist aesthetic. Urquhart gets to kill a dog too, but the class and narrative ramifications are different. Underwood snaps the dog's neck in a mercy killing, out of necessity, with his own hands, and this is a brilliant establishing moment that shows him as both pragmatic and admirable (he could call someone else to do it, but he does his own dirty work, dammit). Whereas Urquhart's killing is at a distance, with a hunting rifle—that symbol of upper class twatitude—and is all about power and the reestablishment of the old order. This is also a narrative distance that echoes the stylization of the series and reminds you that however much you're about to cheer at the scene that immediately follows (because you are; I did) you are never invited to sympathize or identify with this guy.
Anyway! Let's talk about what the Netflix series has going for it. Robin Wright. God, she is amazing. She is by far the best thing about the show, and far better than her equivalent in the BBC one. I could watch that woman all day. Also Molly Parker. I will watch Molly Parker in anything. In general, I like the gender representation in the American one much better; the BBC version had its badass ladies, but they weren't given as much focus. The drawn-out timeline works better too—the side characters are compelling enough, and one gets the sense of an actual universe rather than a claustrophobic stage.
I also love that there's a positive depiction of polyamorous, bisexual people. I mean, they're evil, but their relationships aren't. I haven't seen much like that lately outside of Lost Girl.
However, the BBC version kills off Thatcher in a brilliant sequence that I won't describe here other than it made me fall off the couch laughing, so it wins in my heart forever.
P.S.
bcholmes, it is now time for me to start watching Hannibal.
