Has James Holzhauer Broken Jeopardy

In one sense, it can be argued given everything that has happened this year already, that James Holznauer, professional gambler is the best thing that has happened to Jeopardy! in more than a decade. He has won 31 games, the second longest streak in Jeopardy history. Furthermore, he has already won $2.3 million dollars, which means if his luck holds, sometime in June, he will break Ken Jennings regular season record of $2.5 million dollars that he set in 2004. (Because of tournament wins that occurred later, Jennings’ career total of more than 3.3 million still lies ahead, and it will take quite some time for even Holznauer to reach Jennings consecutive game streak of 74 games and Brad Rutter’s all time money record of 4.6 million dollars.)

It has meant good things for Jeopardy as the series ratings have jumped 20 percent since he began his remarkable run. But with success must come the inevitable backlash, and in the last few weeks, national news outlets and the Internet have begun to wonder whether or not this is actually a good thing for the longest running game show on television. Not having seen some of these stories, I will speak from personal experience.

What I know for certain was that during Ken Jennings’ remarkable streak, which spanned the better part of two seasons, I actually stopped watching Jeopardy for much of that time. My general reaction was the fact that Jennings, with his encyclopedic level of knowledge and quick speed on the signaling button, actually made the game less fun to watch. It’s fun to see a rout on Jeopardy – the first time. Maybe for a week. But when a contestant plays so consistently well, and leaves so many of his opponents gasping for air, there’s something that’s really kind of dull about it. Imagine seeing the 1927 Yankees play the 1962 Mets – for an entire season. Even if you’re a Yankee fan, you wouldn’t come to every game, and some point you’d only start tuning in to see if Goliath actually lost.

And I’ll be honest – Holznauer’s games remind me much of Jennings’. If anything, they’re worse. Jennings would wager modestly on Daily Doubles – or at least, so that his final total was always a round number. Holznauer will start at the bottom of the board, and he is so fast and successful – TV Guide said he has a 97 percent success rate so far – that when he hits the Daily Double, he doesn’t need Alex’s incentive to wager big – he almost invariably does.  And it at least half of his games, his fellow competitors are hopelessly behind by the time Double Jeopardy begins.

Then there’s the sole enormity of his wins. Until Holznauer came around, the biggest 1-day total was just over $77,000. He shattered it in his fourth day, winning $110,000. Roger Craig’s record had stood for nearly a decade. James shattered a week later. No one had even come close to winning $100,000 in a single game on Jeopardy before. Holznauer’s done it five times so far.  Now, if you like seeing your contestant win large sums of money – and most people do – that’s fine. But at a certain point, it becomes exhausting, particularly when you remember that’s the amount of the money that used to give a way in their Tournament of Champions. What can they possibly offer as an incentive for Holznauer to come back?

It’s actually become more of a problem to play along at home. For the last decade, I’ve been playing and have been averaging 30 to 40 thousand a game, which will generally win 95 percent of the time. Now when I have no real chance to win by the time Final Jeopardy comes along, I feel as frustrated as his opponents must feel. And I have to confess, it leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. This may be the biggest consequence to Holznauer’s streak. Much of Jeopardy’s success has come to the fact that just about anybody could win. How long is it going to be before people stop trying out to play Jeopardy because they don’t want to have to play Holznauer. It’s like Wepner having to fight Ali every day.

Right now, the sun is shining for Jeopardy! And maybe it will for the rest of the season. But eventually it is going to hurt. I have a feeling there are a certain portion of the audience who is watching the show for the sole purpose of wanting to see Holznauer lose. If that doesn’t happen, Jeopardy may end up facing a lot of problems. And that’s an an answer to a question never wanted to face. What might kill Jeopardy off?

Deadwood Episode Guides: Complications (Formerly Difficulties)

Written by Victoria Morrow

Directed by Gregg Fineberg

Given the relative lack of major of events in this episode, one could easily misconstrue that Complications (Formerly Difficulties) is something of a bridge episode between the first and second half of Season 2, something of a pause as Swearengen recovers from the enormity of his medical crisis. But in actuality, there’s a fair amount going on, as well as a chance to learn about some new characters, as well as follow up on some of the new relationships.

Al is the midst of recovering from his attack, even though he seems to have suffered a small stroke in doing so. Even the Doc is impressed by his recovery, more so than he is. Naturally, he is less concerned about his own well-being then what is going on in his absence – when Dan tells him the story that Wu attempted to illustrate before the aborted surgery, more as a joke than anything serious, his first reaction is tell Johnny to check if there’s anything to it. It is clear that Swearengen considers being an invalid the literal fate worse than death, which is a ghastly irony considering how close that he came to dying. But true to form, he tries to stay on top of the bigger events that are going on, and there are some pretty big ones.

Commissioner Jarry finally gets around to visiting the Pioneer, and gives a notice of claims that when Merrick reads it; he manages to get a handle on just what might be going on. It is clear that even at this early stage, he has been taking lessons from Swearengen, because rather than put the message on the front page of the next paper; he posts the entire message outside the paper. Leon then reports that the masses have heard about it, and they are fucking riled.

Tolliver than goes out to try and calm the mob, and it is here we get the clearest demonstration as just how inferior he is to Swearengen, he is at crowd control. He spends several minutes trying to ease everybody with the spiel that he has been using in the past, but then he blunders as says that he’s talked to Jarry and he doesn’t seem like a bad sort.  The mob, led by Steve Fields, the resident shit-stirrer in the camp then quickly converges on the Bella Union, determined to take their rage out on Jarry.

Al, who even out of the action very quickly can make connections, demands that Bullock show up immediately. Bullock, who has been a little distracted with the last few days events, now reveals that he is behind what is going on: “Bedridden, I know more than you”, Al points out. Bullock doesn’t need much persuasion to head over to the Bella Union, just when things are approaching a crisis point. The mob has surrounded the cashier’s cage where Jarry is ‘protecting himself’; trying to admonish them that he just represents ‘the future’. In one of the most telling exchanges in the series history, Steve finishes a string of obscenities with: “Fuck the future!” Even in his terror, Jarry makes a clear point. “You do not fuck the future. The future fucks you.” Needless to say, this doesn’t assuage anybody, and it is only after the intervention of Bullock that the mob calms – long enough for Bullock to rescue Jarry, and take him into protective custody. Jarry is decidedly ungrateful, so Bullock argues: “A beating short of murder might’ve done you some good.” And it doesn’t quite calm the mob.

I must now make a delicate aside for the introduction of another small but critical character to Deadwood. Even given the level of profanity, I am loathe to use the moniker this character uses to describe himself, so for the purposes of this guide, I shall refer to him as N. General Fields. Another one of the historical personages, he seems capable of irritating everybody in the camp, including his fellow traveler Hostettler, the owner of the livery, who seems very disturbed with just how he handles his horses. The only character who seems to truly get along with him well is Jane who, even in her state of inebriation, seems to quickly take kindly to N. General and starts drinking with him. They have a friendly, fairly drunken conversation for awhile – the discourse about Custer is a highlight – but in the midst of their drinker, the mob is dissipating from Jarry, and Fields, who knows far better than most just how dangerous they can be, quickly flees. Steve tries to create a diversion, involving grabbing Fields and threatening him so that they can get to Jarry. When someone politely points out, they could just start shooting, Steve quickly says they’ll just kill Fields. Fields then hides in Hostettler’s livery, and he doesn’t wait ten seconds before giving him up to the mob. (He knows what’s coming, and is writing his will beforehand.)  The appearance of Charlie manages to save him, and Bullock rescued him before he is too badly hurt. Considering what has happened, Fields remarkably understands. In the last scene of the episode, as Jane is tending to his wounds, he says: “Tell Hostettler I’d have done what he did, only quicker.” The last shot of the episode is of Hostettler in obvious anguish as Fields screams in pain.

While these major problems are unfolding, two quieter problems are unfurling. Adams as we saw in the last episode surrendered his room to Miss Isringhausen for the night. As the two of them continue their discussion, Isringhausen begins to show her true colors, blatantly seducing Adams, and as pillow talk, begins to casually go on with her suggestion that Miss Garrett had her husband murdered, and that she believes she used Al Swearengen as the instrument. While Adams doesn’t know the full details of what happened, he surely knows enough that there is something suspicious, and the trout in the milk comes when she tells him that she wants to have a meeting with Swearengen. Silas recovers some of his rationale now (to paraphrase a later term by Milch, he is ‘cuntstruck’), and tells her: “Why do I think it’s lucky we never met across a poker table?”         Nevertheless, when she pulls back her nightgown, he returns like a fish to a worm.

The most significant event happens in the first minutes of the episode, when we see Alma vomiting into a basin. She is aware of what this portends, and then convinces Richardson to come with her across the thoroughfare to see Trixie. For understandable reasons, Trixie is short, and doesn’t seem particularly grateful to learn that Alma is expecting. Alma is afraid that because of how she was born that childbirth could kill her, and no doubt wants to see Trixie because of a way to handle it (the casual admission of Trixie that ‘I’ve killed seven’ is one of the more quietly frightening, if realistic, statement of the entire series). Trixie than goes directly to Doc, and decides to chew him out for being so callous to Alma when she was kicking the laudanum that she’s now afraid to see to her. Doc finds a pretext to see Alma, one she quickly sees through, but after some mutual crankiness, they then have a very civil conversation, in which Alma admits she does want a child, and Doc says that he can help her have one.

This actually leads to one of the more touching scenes in the series, when Alma returns to the Gem that night, and the two of them actually have a genuinely civil conversation. Alma tells her about her news, Trixie admits with a certain amount of pride that she’s now working at Bullock’s hardware store, practicing accounts, and “she’s fucking one of the owners.” Alma says she’s glad for that and the two chuckle and share a cigarette. The friendship between Alma and Trixie is quickly becoming one of the series deepest, and it’s nearly as moving as what follows next, when Trixie goes to the back, after Sol has revealed the sums she’s been working on, and they enjoy a roll in the sack. To see that Trixie is on the verge of finding happiness and independence is a remarkable statement for Deadwood to try and make.

But in the doubling of Deadwood, there are far worse signs afoot, mostly at the Chez Ami. Joanie goes to tend to Carrie, and find out what the hell she and Wolcott were up to last night. She manages to hide whatever concern she has. Doris, however, reveals what is happening to Tolliver, and when he gets a full report of what Wolcott is making the whores do, his reaction is not to consider the danger, but “Can I be that fucking lucky?” He then spends much of his interactions with Wolcott trying to subtly bait him, and it’s clear he’s trying to work things to some kind of advantage. The same kind of blindness that failed him at controlling the mob dulls his vision here; he doesn’t see the danger that we’ve seen in Wolcott at the Chez Ami, he thinks he’s already invaluable and wants to make sure he can secure his future position.

Swearengen and Bullock are both aware of the outside consequences of what may come, and in their final interaction, Al says that we gets better “I’ll pull my weight” It’s a measure of how much circumstances have changes in just a few short days that Bullock looks at him, and says: “Come to that, my money’d be on you.”

The episode also has one of the callbacks when Wolcott reads the letter he ‘bought’ from Farnum when he came to town for Carrie, even though neither gives a damn about Wild Bill Hickok. (It’s interesting that both of the characters Dilahunt plays utterly disrespect the legend; Wolcott admonishes the man’s spelling.) But when he reads the postscript  to his wife Agnes, there seems to be the briefest of moments when even a man who is clearly revealing himself to be disturbed seems momentarily moved by the poignancy of his love for her wife, as if its for something he can never – and will never – have. It will eventually reach him, but by then, as is inevitably the case in Deadwood, it will involve more blood.

What Happens After Winter Comes:HBO After Game of Thrones

I may be the only person in America this Sunday who doesn’t care who ends up sitting on the Iron Throne. (And judging from the chatter I’ve heard from certain circles, there are some loyal Game of Thrones fans that may have run out of patience with that in the final season.) The series has never really captured my interest, I think the Emmys have been ridiculously generous to it (the way they overloaded compared to the extraordinary final season of The Americans was particularly galling last year), and it’s rapidly becoming one of the most overrated series in history. What I do care about, and no doubt there are dozens of network honchos who feel the same, is what will happen to HBO after May 19^th.

History may be a guide to us, because HBO has been in this exact situation before.  At the dawn of the new millennium, HBO was the forerunner – and for a long time, the only place – where one could find some of the great series of the revolution. But in 2007, it was starting to look like its run was over. Six Feet Under was gone. The cancellation of Deadwood and the fallout from the why was a big blow to the network. The Wire was about to begin its final season. And The Sopranos – the series that had built the network had literally faded to black. What’s more, other networks were filling the void that HBO was leaving. FX has revolutionized basic cable with The Shield, Showtime, its poorer cousin for many years, was stunning the world with Dexter, and AMC was about to change the conversation again with Mad Men.  HBO didn’t look like it had anything in its coffers to replace it.

But the network would be saved from oblivion from a series that came out of a blood soaked, overly sexual, incest filled series of books. I speak, of course, about Alan Ball’s True Blood based off Charlayne Harris’ Sookie Stackhouse adventures.  Never considered an exceptional series critically – its single Emmy nomination in 2010 always smacked of tokenism to me – it nevertheless managed to find a huge audience, albeit nowhere near as big as The Sopranos at its peak.

However, the cushion of True Blood’s success allowed HBO to go about experimenting in ways it hadn’t done since Oz had debuted. In that same period came In Treatment, an intriguing series which followed a psychiatrist played by Gabriel Byrne and the patients he saw week after week ( HBO could never quite find the way to air properly; in retrospect, it reads like an early Netflix series)  Big Love, one of the rare HBO productions that was underrated by the Emmys, Bored to Death, an intriguing dramedy that among its other virtues continued Ted Danson’s late career renaissance, and Boardwalk Empire, a series that started out like gangbusters, and due to problems behind the scenes, never quite achieved the greatness it could have. None of these series emerged as smashes, but they did show that HBO was still playing at a high level, and one can argue that this kind of experimentation was what let the executives to greenlight Game of Thrones in the first place.

And having a smash like Game of Thrones has allowed HBO to experiment again. Not all of their stories have been successes, but they have allowed for just brilliant creations as True Detective (the first and third seasons anyway), The Leftovers and Westworld. The comedies have always been rather consistent, but they’ve also created such intriguing offerings as Barry, Insecure, and Getting On. They haven’t all been successes, but at least these shows have given HBO room to grow.

The key is not to make the mistakes of AMC and put your entire future on a single franchise. They’ve already greenlit one Game of Thrones prequel series, and there are rumors that are at least three more.  Prequel series are always risky – for every Better Call Saul, you get The Carrie Diaries – and depending on how Game of Thrones ends, the fan base may not be as wild to go back to Westeros.  And eventually, you have to go to something new, besides relying on formulas. One doesn’t want to end up like NBC reliant on the whims of Dick Wolf.

There are signs that HBO is looking to the future, and that is a good sign. Getting past the muck that was series like Veep is always a good idea. But don’t stake your entire future on a single franchise. Otherwise, you will be in for a long, cold winter.

I know that ABC is in a bad place, ratings-wise. When your number one series in a spinoff of a revival, you know you’re in trouble. And I realize that there are always going to be hard choices when it comes to cancellation. But earlier this week, ABC did what it has done more frequently than any other network in recent memory: it cancelled the wrong show. And what makes it harder to take is that ABC had a series by the same creative force with similarly low numbers, but chose to spare that one instead.

Anyone who reads this column knows I am far from Shonda Rhimes’ biggest booster. Nevertheless, almost two months, I gave a rave review to For the People, a courtroom drama in a world that seems to have passed them by. Much of the second season was nearly as good as I said it was. The acting was surprisingly powerful, the writing was subtle – which you almost never see in a Shondaland production – and there have been none of the ridiculous twists that plague so many of her series. What’s more, there have been no sex scenes this entire season, and no one has been killed off. For the People was on the verge of quietly become one of the better dramas on network television. Which is why I found it particularly appalling that it was cancelled earlier this week, and the wretched, bloated, and increasingly ridiculous How to Get Away with Murder was somehow renewed for a sixth season.

This isn’t the first time that ABC has chosen to sacrifice a critically acclaimed series in favor of Murder. Two years ago, ABC chose to cancel the limited series American Crime, an anthology series that dealt wrenchingly through a single group of characters with issues that were relevant. It was ABC’s biggest success in the Emmys during the decade, getting twenty nominations over three seasons, and an argument can definitely be made it is one of the best series of the decade. I was appalled that ABC chose to cancel it, but from a purely business sense, it was logical. It had debuted to low ratings from practically its inception, and even in the world of peak TV, its ratings were nowhere near high enough to last on basic cable. Still, on a network that seemed to be surviving on overblown Shonda Rhimes’ series, it was a blow

The cancellation of For the People in favor of Murder is not nearly as clear cut a case – it never received anywhere near the critical acclaim that American Crime did, and it was the second lowest watched series on the entire network. That said, keeping it alive instead of Murder is harder to fathom. That series was in its fifth season, and its ratings had dropped to an average of 3 million an episode. For the People’s ratings were at 2 million an episode. How to Get Away with Murder had lost whatever creative spark it had years ago, and with Rhimes now gone from the network, there was less of a need to keep it on the air to keep her happy. Finally, there was the overall tone – Murder was a dark, oversexed, twist-filled, and barely comprehensible melodrama. For the People was an optimistic, courtroom drama, that believed characters could actually be friendly when they work together. It might have been a tough call for the network, but in a business that tends to take newer series over old, one would thought it was time to kill Murder, or at the very least, keep both series on the air. Instead, they took the other choice.

I realize that it is also a network’s habit to keep a successful series on the air until every bit of creativity is squeezed out of it – it’s the only logical explanation that Grey’s Anatomy was renewed for two more seasons. But it does say something that when the choice is between two equally low-rated Shondaland series, and the choice comes down to sex and violence, or truth and justice, they went for the former. It seems even more sloppy considering that Murder has been maybe one season left it while For the People could have gone on for a lot longer. And when so many of your biggest hits are either getting old or being canceled, thinking about the distant future instead of one season in advance seems even more short-sighted than usual.

As for For the People, well, Rhimes is at Netflix now. A lot of canceled series have been revived by the streaming service in the past few years. I wouldn’t mind if it ended up there. Just don’t overdo that much. It’s alright if they can say  the f-word, just long as their not obsessed with doing it.

How The Final Moments of Veep (Almost) Saved The Series

I mentioned about a month ago how much utter despair I felt watching the final season of Veep ­– so much so that I really questioned whether it had been funny in the first place. A few things happened in the last weekend, before and after the viewing of the finale, that have made me rethink my position a bit, so I figure some Monday morning quarterbacking might be in order.

I mentioned in the previous column that the state of our current political climate made me pretty disgusted that I had ever enjoyed this series. It’s worth noting that in a lot of the interview much of the cast and creative team have given have illustrated that much of them feel rather upset about how their series, which started out as a satire has become so much of a mirror of the current climate. Their obvious dismay makes me realize they really didn’t like how their comedy has almost become a documentary. The major difference, of course, being that Selina Meyer and most of the other politicos had the good sense to keep all of their toxicity in private.

It doesn’t, however, change the fundamental flaw in this series which, sad to say, was the central character. Even if you allow the possibility that Selina Meyer was supposed to be a satirical figure, that doesn’t change the fact that she was even more unpleasant, less likable, and far less self-aware than so many of the antiheroes in TV. Dexter Morgan, Walter White, and Tony Soprano at least had some realization as to how horrible they were at the center of their series. Selina Meyer was far more destructive, and never seemed to care who she hurt or how in her pursuit of power. Only in this case, its actually worse because her damage involved the party that was trying to nominate her, the rest of the country, and the free world. I didn’t really think that she could sink any lower in her hunt for the presidency when she agreed to give Tibet back to China at the reception for the Nobel Prize she was getting for freeing Tibet.\

I so wish I had been wrong. In the tumult of one of the most chaotic political conventions in TV history (one that took eleven ballots – she must have been a Democrat), her lead continued to fluctuate when the financial scandal her late husband had been involved in, her accidentally going into a men’s bathroom (which isolated the evangelicals) and a terrorist attack that involved a geometry teacher (you don’t want to know), seemed to scuttle her entire candidacy. It led to the heart attack of Ben (Kevin Dunn), and in the only real moment of compassion she’s had this whole series, she sat by his bedside, and had a tearful exchange where she clearly thought she didn’t have a next move.  Then, in rapid succession, she manipulated a woman to accuse a rival of sexual harassment, scuttling his candidacy, agreed to kill gay marriage (never mind the fact her daughter was a lesbian) to get the evangelicals back, and agree to give Jonah Ryan the VP slot to get his delegates. This last move was so horrific that it shattered the perpetually calm and mathematical Kent (Gary Cole)  - his reaction was to shout “Fuck the Numbers!”, and terrified his own campaign manager Amy, who clearly had just the job to mess with her own boss. Selina may have known that the VP worse for anyone to end up, but her callous disregard clearly shocked everybody.

But in the moments before she accepted the nomination, she reached her absolute point. Gary, the foolish, ever devoted body man, who clearly loved her unconditionally, was set up by Selina to take the fall for her husband’s crimes while she took her bows. In a season where she had done some truly appalling things in her pursuit of power, this was by far the worst.

Was their any redemption for this series? Strangely enough, there was some in the last five minutes. In the White House, Selina was just as obnoxious as ever as President, but there was a moment after two aides left the room, where she started to ask a question – and saw she was alone. All of the people who got her there were gone, and she had nothing. For the briefest of moments – not nearly long enough – she seemed aware of the cost. Then, of course, the Prime Minister of Israel came on the phone, and she degraded her daughter.

But the true moment of glory came in the final flashforward at President Meyer’s funeral. We learned that Jonah had been impeached after becoming VP,  and that Richard Splet, the one purely good and honest person in this entire show, has just been reelected President in a landslide after negotiated a ‘three state solution’ in the Middle East. In a series that basically said everyone in politics was unpleasant, there was something reassured about Richard’s unlikely rise to power and the fact that there was some good for a country in the future.

Selina’s funeral was an excuse to show much of the characters nearly a quarter of a century older, and not much better off. But somehow Gary was out of prison, and despite everything she did to him, it’s clear he still loved her. Of course, it’s also clear that Katherine had basically disowned her. And in the final moments, when her coffin couldn’t be moved adequately into her final resting place, Selina got the true recognition she did from history -  she got pushed aside for a bigger story. Tom Hanks, someone truly beloved, died the same day. Obscurity and humiliation, that’s just what Selina Meyer deserved, and in fact what she got during the entire series.

At the end of the day, was Veep a good series? I’m really not sure. It was a mean-spirited comedy, emphasis on mean. And particularly during the last season, it seemed to take every opportunity possible to turn every flashpoint in our society – anti-vaccination, abortion, drone strikes, even obscurely 9-11 – and turn into a joke. That’s neither particularly original – South Park was doing it for decades before Veep even came on the air, and doing a better – nor, more seriously, particularly funny. Maybe it wasn’t meant to hold a mirror up to our society, but in the last few seasons, it did – and it’s hard to get more ridiculous than some of the things in the twenty-four hour news cycle. The one thing I am glad for sure is that Veep is, unquestionably, over. They pretty much stomped dead any possibility of a revival with the last few minutes. The case could be funny and they were entertaining. I just hope that if we see them again, it’ll be in something a little less unpleasant then this.

Deadwood Episode Guide: Requiem for a Gleet

Written by Ted Mann

Directed by Alan Taylor

This episode is one of the great triumphs in Deadwood’s history, mainly because it takes the central character of the series, puts him at the point of certain death, and then manages to unify the entire body together.

Though Ian McShane doesn’t speak a word of dialogue in the entire episode, we couldn’t get a clearer picture of Swearengen’s importance to the camp with his fate so dire. This is particularly clear in the surrounding characters attitudes. All of the performances in this episode are superb, but by far the most vital is W. Earl Brown’s work as Dority. Forced to take up the position of Al’s gatekeeper, pretending everything is fine when it clearly isn’t, as the episode progresses, he begins to break down. Nowhere is this clearer when Adams comes in with what is clearly a vital message for him. The two go through their usual snarling, but when Adams appeals to how vital the message, Dan breaks and reveals just how dire Al’s condition is. The two of them reach an accord – Adams’ says: “Sorry for breaking your balls”, and Dan promises to give him the message if he thinks he’s in a condition to hear it.

Trixie herself is reaching a similar breaking point. She tries to put up a bold face in front of Dolly, but when she goes to see Sol for lesson in sums, she bursts into tears. Perhaps the most vital conversation in the episode about loyalty comes when Dan tells Trixie that he would’ve been nothing had he not met Al, and the tacit agreement she and Dan make to burn the Gem down rather than let Tolliver have it.

Even Farnum, who has a lot on his mind, is in particular distress. He knows what the screaming he heard last night portends, and though he pretends to take Dan’s word for it when he enters the Gem, but when he goes back to his hotel, he is in utter despair. So much so that he confides (though he disguises it, as he always does when talking to him) to Richardson, the Biblical looking and apparently simple cook at his hotel:

“I don’t like being weak, and I know that I am. I yearn to rely on a stronger will. I fear what I’m capable of its absence. Where as you Richardson know nothing of yourself.  (starts to strike him) Are you shitting or going blind? Or on foot or horseback? You vile fucking lump!”

Farnum is just smart enough to know that darker forces are circling the camp, and that he alone is not capable of combating them. Never is this made more clear when, still trying to follow the directive of Wolcott to buy up claims, he goes after what he naturally presumes will be an easy target – Alma Garret. He doesn’t know that Garret has been made aware by Ellsworth of Wolcott’s presence, and that he has told her what this may portend. Alma cheerfully counters Farnum’s offer to buy her claim, by making a similar offer on his hotel, pushing him so far as to say: “Shit or get off the chamber pot”.  Farnum is so befuddled, he has no recourse, and she leaves him in a daze.

But the sinister menace that Wolcott – and by extension, Hearst – mean are becoming clearer. Ellsworth encounters Wolcott at Garret’s claim, and immediately knows what he’s up to. He refers to an earlier incident which led to a crash that lead to many dead, and makes short work of Wolcott’s transparent remarks that he doesn’t recall Ellsworth. But Wolcott’s arrogance is clear as he doesn’t even flinch at the blood that’s involved: “Do you hear that sound, Mr. Ellsworth? Sounds like fate.”

And there are other signs things are going to get worse for the camp. Arriving that day is Commissioner Jarry from Yankton. Adams knows him by sight, and also realizes the threat that this will pose to Swearengen. (That’s the message he tries to pass on to Dan). Jarry makes swiftly to the Bella Union, where Tolliver is doing a more efficient job than Farnum at getting a hold of claims on the cheap. Jarry than has a dialogue with him and Wolcott about the provisional titles of claims and how they will be awarded. The efficiency of the bureaucracy is clearly demonstrated to be in the pocket of Hearst, and it is a little frightening to see how swiftly things are moving. (Of course, the imminent threat Jarry – and by extension, America – holds over the camp is nearly negated when we see just how he likes to indulge his sexual proprieties at the Bella Union.)

But Wolcott is making intrusions in other ways. Trying to get a make further inroads into Swearengen’s business, Tolliver engages with Mr. Lee, a celestial in the employ of Hearst, who clearly has an understanding of English better than Wu, for Chinese whores, which he intends to employ, but literally use until they have been fucked to death. This leads to one of the few humorous moments in this grim episode where Wu comes to the Gem demanded to speak with “Swearengen!” and Dan, already at a breaking point, doesn’t even try to go through with the same patience Al has. Wu adds to his vocabulary “San Francisco!” and “American”, which negates the real problem that Al faces.

But at this juncture we reach the crux of the episode, and it is one of the more incredible pieces that Milch and company ever put together. Cochran has told Al that they need to perform an operation, cutting through his bladder to remove the stones, even though everybody – Doc especially – thinks this will kill him. Doc’s own desperation shows when he keeps trying to sterilize the tools he’ll need, and finally shouts: “Jesus Christ! I do not need to kill another man!” When the time comes to perform the operation, Al manages to blink his fear, and somehow Dan and Trixie manage to convey that he wants to try and pass the gleets naturally.  What follows is a true example of the unifying force of Swearengen, as Doc, Trixie, Dan and Johnny all work with Al to manually help him pass the gleets that have nearly killed him. An overhead shot shows the five of them working in concert – another example of the connectedness of the camp – and when the stones are pass, they all collapse on the bed, exhausted, Cochran speaking for all of them: “Thank you for saving me!”

But even though Swearengen is clearly recovering (and the last shot of the episodes demonstrates his return to awareness) other threats lie in store. One comes from what may be the least unexpected place.  After the tension of last night, Alma discharges Miss Isringhausen, who calmly accepts her severance. She then shows up outside Adams’ room, in an apparent state of distress. Adams, no doubt feeling vulnerable from the threats facing Al, invites her into his room, and feels at something of a loss when she bursts into dears after downing some whiskey. When he tries to make a joke about shooting himself, Miss Isringhausen tearfully mentions that she feels threatened. And then she says: “By Miss Garret.” At this point in the series, we should know better than to judge people by appearance, but this is a threat we didn’t see coming, and it is credit to Sarah Paulson (still several years out from launching her career in conjunction with Ryan Murphy) that we are so stunned by this.

The more critical point is the trouble brewing at the Chez Ami. Joanie and Maddie are on edge from the events of the previous night, Maddie because she doesn’t want anything to happen until she gets paid. She chastises Joanie over this in one of the more memorable lines: “They get led by their dicks; our cunts lead us, we lose our only edge.” In this moment, we see that Maddie, for all her trappings as a madam, is just as ruthless an operator as Cy is. Things do not get any better, when Carrie, the whore that Maddie was ‘keeping on ice’, arrives on the morning coach, even more pissed that she’s been dragged from New York to this camp.

But it is not until the final scenes where Wolcott arrives at the Chez Ami that we begin to sense just how dark the waters are becoming. He begins to pontificate about the days of the Greeks and their ways of sexuality while insisting every whore remain a fixed position. Joanie becomes increasingly unsettled, but when he begins talking about: “gods fornicating with mortals, the endless incest, fathers upon daughters upon sisters, she finally breaks and leaves. When Wolcott is alone with Carrie in the penultimate scene of the episode, their casual exchange:

 Wolcott: “I sense Miss Stubbs has fucked a relative”

 Carrie: “It’s a big club.”

-                that speaks volumes about them, and the nature of their upbringing. But perhaps the most frightening occurrence comes when Wolcott tells Carrie: “The rocks tell me stories.” The fact that Carrie is inclined to dismiss this as nonsense doesn’t deny the fact that there is something very disturbing about Wolcott’s disconnect which is becoming more apparent, if only in private.

-                One tries to focus on the positive moments. Al is recovered, and it is also becoming clear that Bullock may be becoming more accepting of his domestic situation. For the first time since they came to the camp, he and his wife address each other by their first names, and he prepares to help William acclimate himself to the camp. He also talks with Sol about trying to set up a bank in the camp, meaning that he is looking towards the future. However, there is still resistance. He doesn’t want to take money from Alma or Al for obvious reasons, but there are small signs he is becoming more flexible. His ability to bend will become more important as storms from all sides gather.

Better Late Than Never: The Kominsky Method

Among their many, many other virtues, many of the comedies that air on Netflix have the benefit of providing work to some of the greatest acting legends in history. I have already mentioned just how many acting titans have appeared on Grace & Frankie, aside from the four leads. Rita Moreno received some of the best notices of her life for her work on Norman Lear’s reimagining of One Day at a Time. Carol Burnett has been working on a variety series. And The Kominsky Method, the Golden Globes choice for Best Comedy Series, has offered employment to two of Hollywood’s greatest actors, Michael Douglas and Alan Arkin, who were already recognized for nominations by the Globes and the SAG Awards and are likely heavy favorites in the Emmys voting, which is fast approaching. It took me a while to get around to actually looking at this series that I’ve heard great things about for nearly six months, but it’s definitely worth the time.

Douglas plays Sandy Kominsky, a former Hollywood legend who can’t get work anymore, and is now trying to impart his years of wisdom into increasingly shallow potential actors. It’s pretty clear that he has been getting diminishing returns for awhile, and we see this in a scene where a student does a monologue from Steel Magnolias in the exact style of Sally Field, who he tells her gently he coached. Another students asks for how to get motivation for a shampoo commercial. Sandy does not want to admit he used up yet, mainly because its very clear he has focused all his energy in actor at a complete shutout of everything else. He’s had three failed marriages and his relationship with his daughter Mindy (Sarah Baker), who runs his acting workshop with him has always been shaky. It’s pretty that the only real friend he has is his agent Norman (Arkin), and even though there’s a back and forth of abuse between them, they clearly care about each other.

The major impetus for everything in the series starts after Norman’s wife, who has been suffering from cancer for a long time, finally dies, and Sandy finds himself in the position of trying to take care of him. So far, that has been mainly been dealing with the preparations for the funeral, which his wife went into great detail in preparing, asking for Patti Labelle to sing Lady Marmalade, Jay Leno to emcee, and Barbara Streisand to sing ‘The Way We Were’ (“I don’t think Streisand does funerals” Sandy says). Much of what Norman is dealing with is a combination of grief and outrage. He doesn’t want to tell his daughter, who never visited her mother even on her deathbed, and shows up right at the key part of her father’s eulogy. But it’s clear that he feels truly lost, and he will need all the support he can get.

Sandy, in the meantime, has been going through the gentle dance of dating one of his students – Lisa, a fiftyish divorcee (the always reliable Nancy Travis). When he tells his Norman’s wife about that, she says she’d like to meet her, which leads to her taking to her to the hospital on their first date – after she has passed. Sandy recovers from this by inviting her to the funeral: “We went to the hospital on the first date, a funeral seems a natural progression.” And she does seem willing to go along, and seems delighted at the bizarre appearance of Norman’s daughter.

The series is engaging, witty, and often moving, so it may surprise some that Chuck Lorre, the man behind such randy comedies as Two and a Half Men and Mike and Molly is the main writer. But Lorre has been capable of showing great depths in his recent work: the soon to conclude Big Bang Theory was remarkable in the way it allowed most of its characters to grow emotionally over its long run, and Mom has always been superb in the way it managed to find laughs in alcoholism, gambling addictions, and family dysfunction. The Kominsky Method isn’t quite there yet, but it is much in that vein in many of the early episodes: Norman goes insane at a bereavement director when he suggests cardboard for a coffin, and Sandy blames Bill Clinton for the depth of our culture: “Once blow jobs stopped being sex, we were doomed as a civilization.) It’s also refreshing to see that Douglas, who is remember by a full generation of movie goers as being so intense, was once and is still a very natural comedian. And it’s good to see him, in his seventies, getting to cut loose again. It’s no surprise to see Arkin, who was enjoying a late in life renaissance before this, demonstrating how good he is at melding comedy and tragedy.

This is a much more polished work than so many of the Netflix series have been: it took Grace and Frankie a full season to finally hit its stride, and it took half a season for GLOW. The Kominsky Method isn’t quite yet a classic, but its definitely one of the better old fashioned comedies you’ll find anywhere.  And in a world where the rules of comedy seem to change every thirty seconds, this is a good sign that were not as bad off as a society as Sandy thinks.

My score: 4.75 stars.

Some Advice for Jeopardy and Alex trebek

A few years back, Hugh Jackman and Jerry Seinfeld were having a friendly conversation. Jackman, who was considering an offer from Marvel about the future of Wolverine, Jackman’s signature role, asked what he should do. Seinfeld, who knew more than a little about leaving at the top of one’s game told him: “Leave a little in the tank.” Jackman worked things out with the producers, and exited his signature role in Logan, one of the greatest comic book based movies in history (and the first to get an Oscar nomination for Best Screenplay.)

I found myself pondering this when it comes to Alex Trebek and his circumstance. He is suffering from Stage 4 pancreatic cancer, and while he remains determined to beat the odds, it is hard to imagine him doing so. That said, I would give the same advice to Trebek that Seinfeld gave to Jackman: leave on top.

Even before his diagnosis came, there were indications that this season might be the ideal time for Trebek and Jeopardy to part ways. After all, this is the 35^th Anniversary of the series, which mathematically speaking, is a good number to close on. Earlier this year, the show celebrated it by having a special All-Star tournament, where eighteen of Jeopardy’s  greatest players competed against each other in teams. It wasn’t necessarily Jeopardy’s finest hour (their Battle of the Decades a few years back was probably their greatest tournament) but it did feature some of their toughest clues, some of the greatest contestants, and some truly remarkable games. It was very entertaining.

Another argument that it might be a good time to leave is the most recent competitor – Las Vegas professional gambler James Holznauer. He has already won 22 consecutive games, second only to Ken Jennings for the most in the history. And while he has a ways to go before he approaches Jennings’ all time mark of 74 consecutive wins, he has already set the game show world on fire. On his fourth win, he broke Roger Craig’s single game record of $77,000, becoming the first Jeopardy player to break the $100,000 mark. Roger’s record had stood for nearly a decade. James’ record lasted all of six games. No Jeopardy champion had ever come close to $100,000 in a single game. James has done it five times so far.  And he has already won $1.6 million dollars, which will kind of make the idea of coming back for the Tournament of Champions $250,000 grand prize, sort of a redundancy. There is a real possibility that he will breaking the competitive record of $2.5 million, and maybe even the all-time money record of $4.6 million. He has style and personality that only the great Jeopardy players can match. 

So, here is my humble suggestion Alex. At the end of this year, retire.  Concentrate on beating this disease. The odds may be against you, but then the odds were against anybody cracking the $100,000 mark in a game record. Let’s let the last memories of your time on Jeopardy be happy ones – it’s clear your time with James on stage is enjoyable, and its clearly rejuvenated you a bit. Maybe you do a special tournament when James finally is defeated along the lines of the Ultimate Tournament of Champions in 2005, with maybe $3 million as the grand prize. It was good seeing some of the players from the last decade on Jeopardy in the All-Star Tournament, but it would be good to see some of the all-time greats one last time as well. I’m sure Frank Spangengerg and Chuck Forest and Eddie Timanus would be glad to come back to spend more time with you – and of course, win more money.

Now, as to who could succeed you – why not promote from within? Brad Rutter has already set the record for most money won by any game show contest with over $4.6 million dollars. He already lives in LA, he works in Hollywood, and he spent some time as a TV quiz show host while in Pennsylvania. He’s fairly young – probably around 40 – and its hard to argue that he doesn’t know the show as well. And as to whether or not he has the wit and self-deprecation to host the show, well, here’s a story he told when he was in the Battle of the Decades.

“I met with the son of Shane Whitlock… and his parents said, (Declan), this is Brad. He’s won more money than anybody in the history of Jeopardy. And Declan looked at me, and said: “Where’s Ken?!” (huge laughter)  “The story of my life”

He has the personality to be a great host, and the lack of ego to follow in Alex’s footsteps.

So Alex, do what Hugh Jackman did, and leave a little in the tank. We all want you to get better, and you already have millions praying for you. I am certainly one of them.

Deadwood Episode Guide: New Money

Written by Elizabeth Sarnoff

Directed by Steve Shill

Arguably the two most critical events in Deadwood’s run so far happen in this episode, and they are tied together in such a way that seems so natural, it’s rather astonishing to learn that Milch came up with one in order to plausibly allow the other to happen. Both are tied to the title reference – the ‘new money’, even though at this point, he is just an acolyte of that reference.

Francis Wolcott arrives at Farnum’s hotel in the episode’s opening minutes.  Farnum can instantly tell that that he is a ‘fish to rival the fabled Leviathan’, but even he doesn’t have a good idea as to what he’s involved until it’s too late. He is identified by Maddie who, while talking to Joanie tells him that while Farnum is trying to gauge the mettle of him, ‘Mr. W will toy with him until he no longer finds it amusing’.  We get the sense of this very quickly. Late last season, Farnum managed to get a hold from a lackey the last letter that Wild Bill Hickok ever wrote. He now tries to use it to con Farnum out of what he considers a sizable payday, intimating that it might lead to a mammoth gold claim. What he doesn’t know, but what Maddie is privy to, is that Wolcott represents the interests of George Hearst, who by this point is already one of the richest men in the country. The very mention of the name is enough to send shivers through the spine of Cy Tolliver, when Wolcott approaches him directly immediately after leaving Farnum’s hotel.

Wolcott talks Tolliver up as seeming to be an ambitious man with the foresight to represent Hearst’s interests. What he wants him to do is very simple: he wants to make it clear that titles to all existing claims might be questionable because of the coming interests of impending statehood. The idea being to throw panic into the camp, making it easy for the Hearst combine to buy them up at a fraction of the cost. In that sense, Wolcott has chosen the right men for the job, because where Swearengen would be more concerned with the camp’s interest, all Tolliver cares about is whatever payday he can get for himself. He has no problem putting on a show for the people at the Bella Union, and then another show for Leon and Stapleton (whose double act will quickly become one of the series highpoints). But as is Tolliver’s want, he has completely misjudged the nature of the man he is dealing with.

We get a clear picture of this when Wolcott purchases Hickok’s letter, then begins to toy with Farnum about being duped, allows Farnum to try to begin further machinations, and then casually mention who he works for. We’ve already seen how much of a toady Farnum is for Swearengen, but that is nothing compared to how he flagellates himself when he learns who he has just conned, his desperation to get back on that man’s good side, and just what he’ll have to do in order to get there.

However, we don’t get a true sense as just how dangerous Wolcott is until we hear Maddie discuss him with Joanie. She reveals that coming to the camp to partner with Joanie was a secondary reason. She heard that Mr. W was coming, and has arranged for a ‘certain girl’ that he likes to come to the camp. She’s ‘put her on ice’ in order to secure his interest, and agrees for a 50-50 split with Joanie. When Joanie asks what the trick’s end, she casually says: “I wouldn’t rule out a wooden box.” When Wolcott comes to the Chez Ami, he is even shorter than he’s been with Farnum or Tolliver, but when Joanie tries to engage him, he seems supremely disinterested. At one point, he asks her: “Who am I?” as if he is unsure if he has a real identity.

Garret Dilahunt, who played Jack McCall last season, now takes up the role of Francis Wolcott. Many observers of the series tried to come up with some deeper connection between McCall and Wolcott because of this. Were they alternate versions of the same basic character? Was there some message of deeper evil about? Actually, Milch liked the actor from his earlier appearance and wanted to work with him again. But Wolcott seems apart from the entire camp, and in the same way, from humanity in general. We won’t get an idea of how separated until a little further on.

Now if Wolcott – and by association, Hearst – wanted to get a hold on the camp, under any other circumstances, he’d have to reckon with Swearengen. In order to make this plausible, Milch decided that Al had to be temporarily taken out of the equation. He does so by beginning the episode by showing us the mighty Swearengen laid prone and convulsing by his pisspot, unable to speak. Johnny and Dan try to cover for him initially, mostly by lying to the whores – and by association to themselves. (Though it is telling that Johnny, never the sharpest tool in the sack, has suspicions early on that something is horribly wrong.)  When the Doc and Trixie try to communicate with him through the closed door to no success, Trixie practically orders Dan to break the door down if he doesn’t answer next time they come up. It says something as to Trixie’s authority that they listen to her the way they wouldn’t to Cochran.

When the door is finally broken down, Al is in far worse shape than they imagine: he is sweating and unable to speak. The problem in Swearengen’s bladder that Doc tried to get information on yesterday, and which the stubborn saloon absolutely refused to talk about has gone critical. He is suffering from some form of kidney stones – or ‘gleets’ as the Doc will call them – and the only way to get a measure of how bad it is for the Doc to raise a metal road into his bladder through his penis, and listen for a click – ‘assuming he can hear it over the screams’. This will set up the stage for an operation that, even by the standards of the time, is certain to kill the patient and even Trixie knows this.

Everyone in the Gem is going through some kind of trauma knowing the consequences, but none so more than Trixie, which is astounding considering he’s tried to kill her twice last season. But she clearly has affection for him that goes behind whore-pimp as we see in a scene where she is getting plastered with Jane. (The fact that this may be the first time in the entire lives of either that they have even talked speaks volume to the despair Trixie is feeling.) When Jane, even in her intoxicated way, makes it clear just how villainous Al is, Trixie makes a very potent argument about Jewel. We have wondered why Al keeps Jewel, who can’t bring any revenue in, and basically busts his balls on every possible occasion, and now Trixie reveals that she’s from the same orphanage in Chicago where he came from. Knowing from his few remarks just how painful that place was for him, it speaks volumes as to why he took her in and brought her out west -  not, as he would put it, ‘against having some hooplehead having only nine cents and wanting a piece of pussy’, but as Trixie says: “his sick fucking way of protecting her’. “There’s entries on both sides of the ledger is the fucking point,” Trixie argues, and Jane is, in her drunken way, persuaded as well.

The climax of the episode comes when the Doc performs the procedures, and the screams are so loud that they are heard by the entire camp. Johnny is so repulsed, he leaves in the midst of the blood, only to be ordered back in by Trixie to go back, and shove his arm in Al’s mouth. She knows of Swearengen’s importance to the camp, and doesn’t want to contemplate what will happen if they learn of his condition. (Johnny goes back in, but is so traumatized, he can only observe.) We know there are stones there, but despite Doc’s best effort, he can’t extract them, and we know from Trixie final glance the horrors this portends.

It is telling that the next to last image we see in the episode is that of Bullock sitting down to dinner with his family. Despite the beating that he bears the scars from, we see that he has taken the lessons to heart, and is trying to make peace with Martha, who is, as we will come to take measure of her character, unusually forgiving. Alma, however, is not. After observing her claim with Ellsworth, she tells him that she wants to buy Farnum’s hotel for the sole purpose of ‘putting him out in the thoroughfare’. Ellsworth doesn’t know the full nature of her ill-temper, but offers to have her punch him in the face. When she has a discussion with Miss Isringhausen, her attitude is completely the opposite of last night, and she ends the confrontation by firing her.  Alma has made the right decision, but for the wrong reasons, and the consequences will come clear very soon.

Bullock, at least, has been made aware of just what kind of consequences may be unfolded. He casually mentions to Sol about what Yankton may be planning for the camp, which Swearengen told him about “just before we went over the balcony”. Bullock’s eyes have been open to the consequence, which is good because Al will need him to go forward – assuming, of course, that Al is in a condition to go forward at all.

She Did It her Way: Gentleman Jack Review

HBO has always had a dark and mucky look at the period piece drama. From the extraordinary Deadwood, which gave us a new look at the American frontier, to the messy but occasionally brilliant Boardwalk Empire, they have had stunning visions of era we thought we knew. Other series, like the flawed Rome and the often sublime The Deuce, mainly seem determined to show us how much sex and sin pervades our civilization from ancient times to the present. But rarely have their been characters in these series one could look up to, or even admire. HBO is now attempting to do so with Gentleman Jack, a co-produced British effort that looks at a woman so anachronistic she could only have been real, because it doesn’t seem plausible that she could be fictional.

In the early nineteenth century, there lived a woman named Anne Lister, the rambunctious daughter of a Canadian landowner, who almost from her birth never fit in, and probably would have trouble fitting in today. She dressed in a man’s duster and walked with a purposeful stride. She got involved in fights with men, and was fascinated by the then fledging study of gross anatomy. When she lived in Halifax, she collected rents on her families property, and negotiated strong business dealings with men who soon found themselves out of their depths. And in an era when male homosexuality was considered an offense against God, she openly pursued and had affairs with other woman. A life this remarkable barely sounds plausible, and yet we know much about her because she kept incredibly detailed journals.

This kind of character practically screams to be turned into art (and it has been in the past, actually), and Sally Wainwright, who calls her a gift to dramatists, has done so in this series.  Suranne Jones is Anne Lister. I say this, because the way she embodies this character its hard to imagine anyone else portraying her. From the moment we see her pushing a horse-drawn carriage to its absolute limits to practically striding through the streets of Halifax, it becomes impossible to imagine anyone else playing ‘Gentleman Jack’. (Lister was known as this derogatorily in Canada, but songs were written about her eventually. One plays over the credits.).

It’s clear when she returns from London that most of Yorkshire has seen her before, and while most of her family admires her, her own sister can hardly stand her. She even threatens to marry so that her husband can take the position she has.  She doesn’t like the idea of her sister collecting the rents (“Better than no one should take them”, Anne points out) and she positively shudders at the ideas she has for modernizing the family home. But Anne continues to push forward boldly, talking back to farmers who thinking of withholding rent, arguing with the Rowsons, two brothers who want to such her land dry of the coal reserves she has, and attempting to woo a childhood acquaintance with a seduction so subtle, it shows just how ridiculous other networks are when it comes to love scenes. All of this seems so blatantly odd, and yet nary a four-letter word is uttered or a bodice shed. There are some love scenes, but one could make an argument that this is a series for teenagers and young adults, particularly those who are considering their sexuality or maybe just feeling like an outsider.

It’s not quite perfect. The fact that Lister speaks a bit to the camera occasionally is rather jarring. It doesn’t so much seem like she’s letting us in as an act of television trickery. One would like to see inside Lister’s head (she’s one of those rare historical figures we know a huge amount about) but voice over narration would probably do a lot better. And the series has so many moving parts that even those who follow Peak TV might well have trouble telling who is doing what to whom. But this is a small complaint to a series that does something most period pieces – particularly those on HBO – fail to do: look at an era from the past by highlighting a character that actually seems to foretell good things for the future, as well as have a series head by an honest to God heroine who isn’t anti-anything. She doesn’t need to hear ‘it gets better’; she’ll make the world better, and woe be those who try to stand in the way of progress. I don’t know if Gentleman Jack has a longer life beyond this season, but I know Anne Lister did, and I’d like to learn more of it.

My score: 4.5 stars.