True Detective – S01E01-03
Written by: Sam Henry Miller
Have you ever witnessed a television show that was so good it frightened you, regardless of genre? I’m talking about that sort of five-minute, post-credit paralysis where your mind is storming, anxious, almost invaded, molested—where you find yourself plagued by the relentless quandary, bubbling up from somewhere deep-seated, “How does this show know so much about my life”? Well, simply put, that’s what good writing looks like. That’s a thorough understanding of the gritty, quasi-demonic dark-side of normative human psychology, experience, and emotion: the things we don’t like to think about, let alone speak about… the monsters skulking in the depths and at the peripheries of our conscious comfort-zones. That’s True Detective.
The 8-episode, HBO series follows Louisiana detectives Rust Cohle (Matthew McConaughey) and Martin Hart (Woody Harrelson) on the tail of a gruesome, cold-gone-hot serial killer case throughout a 17-year spanned time period. In 2012, when the case is re-opened, the narrative takes the form of a friendly interrogation (as a framing device) of both a dignified, seasoned Hart and a retired, grungy Cohle. The primary narrative however,17 years into the past, thrusts us into the bayous of a decrepit, bible-thumping Louisiana. By keen contrast, a very different pair of detectives by the same names occupy the surreal, hallucinatory space. Likely, we’re forced to beg the question, “Just what the hell happened in-between?”
As far as plot goes, True Detective can seem (topically) fairly standard and non-innovative. Yet this alone shouldn’t be ample reason to fault a series, and True Detective is not about plot; not truly. Instead, sparse but astute dialogue; deliberate shot composition, blocking, and lighting indicative of distinct directorial vision; and eerily realistic—likely method—performances (especially by McConaughey) imply that True Detective is a study of character and themes. More specifically: True Detective is an exploration of human psychology and existentialism, touching down on no clear political landing pad, but instead flourishing in a muddy ambiguity. As a consequence, intellectual and emotional provocation are bound to ensue.
Ambiguity, however, does not mean that True Detective has nothing to say; in fact, quite the opposite. In the words of our profoundly disillusioned protagonist, Cohle, “The world needs bad men. We keep the other bad men from the door”. The line can be taken at face value—yes, the real heroes are by necessity anti-heroes—or, more abstractly, construed as a spoken microcosm for a specific view of humanity: that life is complex, boggy, grey, and that ‘f***ed-uped-ness’ is the necessary price we pay for facing it without delusion. Or in other words, there are three general degrees of reality or morality we can adopt as creeds—none necessarily less or more ‘healthy’ than the next: good (illusioned), bad (disillusioned), or really bad (psychotic). Rust Cohle falls somewhere right between bad and really bad—the kind of place we love to see our protagonists in, because it makes them interesting and identifiable.
As the first three episodes unfold, we watch Hart and Cohle paradoxically and pleasurably foiled through talk and subsequent hypocritical action. One is perhaps left to ponder, “Is dysfunction an indelible part of function? Maybe to a certain degree?” Hart and Cohle are surely more similar in their mutually severe character-flaws than they are dichotomous in their personas. The more that is revealed of each, the more confusing, complex and less archetypal each becomes. In truth, one could spend hours analyzing True Detective. If not for its brilliant writing, watch the series for its directorial vision. The plot and cliffhangers alone are enough to sustain interest.
Perhaps the show has not played out long enough to fall prey to lazy writing. Perhaps then it would be simpler to allot it slightly less than a flawless score. Yet, HBO proves yet again loyal to its trend of green-lighting exceptional pilots and first seasons. For True Detective, when all I can think after the camera cuts to a new scene is “holy s***…”, I’m left with little other choice but be utterly humbled. Watch True Detective, watch each episode twice, and share my anguish of having to wait a week for the next one to air.