June 15, 2008

Miniseries Mania!

This week, on top of Robin Hood, I checked out a couple of epic summer-miniseries events. I’m a big fan of so-called “event television” and, over the past decade or so, have grown more and more disappointed by the dying media of the miniseries and movie-of-the-week. In the ever-changing television landscape, I can understand the reasoning behind not putting a massive (for network TV) budget and time commitment behind something so questionable—with 500 channels to choose from, would anyone choose you?

Instead, we get smaller-scale “events,” more often from cable channels than any of the networks. TNT, AMC and even Spike TV have had some level of success debuting miniseries and “limited series” (like Spike’s The Kill Point and TNT’s Nightmares and Dreamscapes). A&E has decided they want a piece of the pie, while Lifetime has decided to reclaim their rightful status as the master (or mistress) of gut-wrenching, ultra-depressing tearjerkers.

The Andromeda Strain (A&E) — Like everything written on Idiot Boxing, I’m going into this assuming everyone’s seen it. This is an analysis, not a straight-up review, so if you’re looking for spoiler-free reviews, click these.

I read this book many years ago, but I don’t think I ever saw the original film version. I can’t stack this miniseries against either, which probably works in its favor. At the very least, I’ll say that everything I remember from the book is covered within the first 10 minutes; after that, it’s a free-for-all of pseudo-science and ridiculousness. It’s entertaining ridiculousness, more akin to something light and fun like the National Treasure movies than something ultra-pretentious, deadly serious, but ultimately ridiculous (like The Da Vinci Code).

A&E has assembled a terrific cast that includes Benjamin Bratt (Law & Order), Andre Braugher (legendary for his portrayal of Frank Pembleton on Homicide: Life on the Street; he also starred in the underrated FX limited-series Thief), Daniel Dae Kim (Lost), Viola Davis (last summer’s underrated Traveler), Eric McCormack (Will & Grace), Christa Miller (The Drew Carey Show) and Rick Schroeder (most recently seen on 24, but I’ll always remember Little Ricky from Silver Spoons). With the exception of McCormack, each actor lends a bit of gravitas and reality to the over-the-top goofiness of the plot. Again, with the exception of McCormack, the characters have assembled in a secret military lab/bunker to cure a crazy, lethal virus.

Here’s what they’re up against: a space virus, brought to Earth in a crashed satellite, that is deadly, airborne and highly adaptable. For instance, the virus has no effect on birds, until it “realizes” they can travel farther faster and spread the disease like wildfire. That’s right: the virus is sentient and able to communicate with its own rapidly spreading cells via (if I understood the details correctly) some kind of crazy mirror-crystal-vibration thing. Does that make too much sense? How about this: the virus traveled through time in a satellite, along with some goop that’s encoded with a message from the future that, when all is said and done, tells them how to cure it.

How, exactly, does the virus work? Doesn’t matter. The details are sparse and unconvincing, but it kills instantly or, in more absurd cases, causes its victims to kill everyone in the immediate vicinity.

In a movie like this, the virus turns into a MacGuffin, and the real benefit is in watching the characters interact, savoring the obstacles that prevent them from stopping the spread of the virus. This miniseries isn’t exactly rich with character nuance, but it does include a nice subplot that finds Davis forced to steal the virus when a shady government agent has her family kidnapped. Even that qualifies more as an obstacle, of which The Andromeda Strain has no shortage, than character development, but it’s well-acted by all involved.

The biggest problem is the inclusion of McCormack’s subplot. Ironically, he gets the meatiest character, and it’s not that he plays the role badly—it’s just that his whole subplot feels pointless. I’m not sure what the writers intended—was this supposed to be the “Everyman” experience? If so, why choose a drug-addicted tabloid-TV “journalist” as your Everyman? Aside from leaking classified information at the start, his character has very little to do with anything else that’s going on. At the end, I guess we’re supposed to think he’s learned the errors of his maverick ways, but that change doesn’t come across at all.

The changes—none of them massive—in the other characters come across a little better. It feels like half the team of scientists end up sacrificing themselves in their attempts to stop the virus. You’d think, at some point, having the doctor nobly die like Spock at the end of Wrath of Khan would feel like a cheap, manipulative device. It’s a testament to the acting quality that it never comes across this way.

The ending contains a sort of mind-blowing, Rod Serling-style twist: that sample Davis stole? It gets out, so the movie ends with an astronaut storing the sample—with a numerical marker that the team earlier received, in code, in the black goop sent back through time. They never find out what it means, but we do. It gets all circular: if they hadn’t sent the virus back in time for present-day scientists to find a cure, the virus wouldn’t be plaguing humanity in the first place. It’s like Escape from the Planet of the Apes, only instead of an ape baby, it’s a virus, and instead of an ape uprising (as dramatized in Battle for the Planet of the Apes), it’s a humanity-destroying plague.

Still, it’s fun, light entertainment. Don’t go into it expecting anything as grim as the novel, and you’ll have a good time. Even the twist ending has a “gotcha!” feel that makes it feel all fluffy and inconsequential, not as dark and cynical as it sounds. It looks like A&E blew a boatload on it, so I’m sure they’ll be rerunning it all summer.

The Capture of the Green River Killer (Lifetime) — I can’t say what I expected from this. I had no real interest in the story of the Green River Killer, and I had my suspicions (which proved correct, albeit snobby) that this would involve some kind of weepy teen-angst melodrama. I watched for two reasons: Tom Cavanagh and James Marsters. I guess I just hoped it wouldn’t completely suck. The good news: it didn’t. The big surprise: I was unexpectedly blown away by Amy Davidson, former star of 8 Simple Rules… I hope it doesn’t sound mean to say that I didn’t see that coming.

I’ll plead ignorance to knowing anything about the Green River Killer other than the vague, press-manufactured name. I knew nothing of his M.O., the length of time it took to catch him, the number of women he killed—nothing. In that sense, Capture did a nice job of building an effective mystery out of a story that, theoretically, most people already know. I watched the miniseries with somebody who knew much more about the case than I did, yet it has moments that make a person with familiarity with the case question whether or not they’re remembering correctly.

So it’s effective as a mystery. It’s also effective as a Lifetime-style movie. The network has often been mocked for melodramatic, women-as-victims movies. I can’t confess to ever having seen a Lifetime movie before, but this one did a very nice job of showing us a composite character, Helen (Davidson), whose shoddy upbringing and propensity for trouble-making lead her down the path to the Green River Killer’s arms. The first part of the miniseries focuses primarily on Helen’s story; it cuts back and forth between Dave Reichert’s (Cavanagh) efforts to solve the case, but by the end of the first part, Helen is dead.

We learn everything we need to in that time: raised by a poor single mother (Sharon Lawrence) and raped by one of her mother’s endless string of boyfriends (which prompts little more than jealousy from the mother), Helen eventually runs away from home. She meets a cokehead (ironically, he “rescues” her from what she feared was a run-in with the Green River Killer) who convinces her to start sleeping with dealers to score cocaine; after awhile, this leads to full-time hooking, which ultimately leads to her death. Counterpointing this is Helen’s friend, Wendy (Jenna Ullenboom), who starts on a similarly troubled path but ends up happily married (and, sadly, the only person who cares about Helen after her death).

Helen is a fictitious composite created by the writers. I don’t know how that makes me feel. It feels inauthentic because she isn’t based on a real, individual victim; on the other hand, the inevitable compromises the writers would have to make to appease both the known facts and the living family members (for instance, the negative portrayal of the mother) would cheapen the story. Davidson gives a terrific performance—the least convincing aspect is believing she’s supposed to be in the 16-20 range when she’s clearly 10 years older.

Meanwhile, Cavanagh gives a revelatory performance as Dave Reichert. I’ve loved Cavanagh since Ed, but I’ll be frank: I’ve really only seen him play the “Ed” character. On Scrubs and the short-lived Love Monkey, he played similar charming, affable motor-mouths. These shows had their share of dramatic moments, but seeing him stay in a distinctive character so dissimilar from what I’ve seen before shows me that he should be a much bigger star than he has become. He does a great job as he grapples with faith, his own competence, and his family; he even does a great job “aging” over the 20-year hunt for justice—not just with makeup and hairstyles but in movement and speech. The scene where he finally confronts Ridgway, unleashing a torrent of pent-up emotion, is harrowing—really great work.

The idea of Helen reappearing as a “ghost” is sometimes hokey—like when she talks to the camera in a The Real World: Purgatory-style confessional—but it quickly becomes effective when she starts appearing to Reichert. It’s a great tool to show Reichert’s internal struggle, the impact that these victims had on him and the toll the investigation takes—I think I can attribute the effectiveness more to the actors than the writing (because even describing now, it sounds goofy).

Finally, there’s James Marsters as Ted Bundy. Well, sort of. I loved him on Buffy the Vampire Slayer (and tolerated him on Angel) and was practically salivating to see what he’d do with such a complex character. The answer is hard to gauge considering he appeared in one scene (and later, in a very brief flashback). It’s little more than a cameo—in fact, I don’t even think he’s listed in the “main cast” credits at the beginning. So any Marsters fans looking for a fix in the Smallville off-season, you’ll have better luck with your Buffy DVDs. He does a fine job, but it’s a letdown to hear the miniseries described as “A detective (Tom Cavanagh) seeks help from Ted Bundy (James Marsters) in tracking a serial killer.” That sounds like it’s the entire plot of the movie. I know you can’t trust often-misleading synopses, but that’s extreme.

Nonetheless, it’s a fine miniseries. I’m not sure how accurate it is, but purely on a movie level, it works.

Robin Hood (BBC America) — I know this aired months ago, but I’m always happy when writers anticipate my complaints. Just after complaining that Robin Hood needs to add a larger, more nuanced population to Nottingham Castle, they introduce a random, lovesick knight looking to pay his lover’s debt to the Sheriff. When it turns out the Sheriff has already sold her into marriage, he joins up with Robin (who’s looking for the Great Pact). Unfortunately, all turns out well, which means this knight will likely never be seen again, in or out of the castle.

On the plus side, they continue to layer depth onto Allan. He’s willing to help the Sheriff plug his castle-related leaks to save his own hide, but he’d never sell out Marian—an interesting, tricky-gray-area moral code. The downside? Marian’s father, Edward, escapes (also to steal the Pact) and is killed. So, you know, no need to hold back from selling her out. She’s escaped to the forest with Robin.

I feel like the death of Edward should have been a bigger deal. Though it came toward the end of the episode, it felt like they rushed past it and on to the happy “the knight marries his bride” ending. I assume they’ll delve into the grief more later, but it didn’t really fit together as well as it could have.

D. B. Bates is a film critic and television viewer who has often shouted at fictional characters who probably wouldn’t listen to him even if they could hear him and existed in reality. Interested in explaining to D. B. the many ways he got it wrong? E-mail him.

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