With shows like our dearly departed “Breaking Bad,” Netflix’s offering to the zeitgeist, “House of Cards,” and recent critical and, increasingly, fan darling, “True Detective,” the divide between television series and movies as we’ve traditionally understood it is in a state of erosion. Zachary Wigon over at Tribeca Film has written a brief thought piece on why this blending of form, narrative styles and technique is a development worthy of our enthusiasm. Says Wigon:
“…filmmakers who are apprehensive of working in TV need to understand that the medium is continually reshaping itself to accommodate their needs. Anyone who has doubts about TV’s allowances for formalism should check out the virtuoso 6-minute shot that ends episode four of True Detective. But just as crucially, it’s necessary to remind TV fans that TV is not gaining a greater share of cultural influence because it’s ‘better’ than cinema; it’s gaining a greater influence because it is reappropriating the tenets of cinema.”
Wigon’s blog post led me to wonder which other shows demonstrate a flair for the cinematic and, specifically, which shows, if any, “reappropriated the tenets of cinema” long before it was cool to do so. Although I had a list in mind (classics “The Wire” and “Twin Peaks” foremost among my ideas), there is one series that stood out as a preeminent example of a cinema-TV hybrid – and which, for all its opacity, maintains its preeminence.
I first came across a clip from HBO’s “Carnivàle” last year, embedded in a blog post that asked if the below scene was the most beautiful ever filmed for TV. The author admitted he had no idea what was going on between the characters, but also that his ignorance didn’t bother him. The scene was that compelling.
“Carnivàle” is a bizarre show with a dense mythology many viewers found daunting and many others found pretentious when the series ran on HBO from 2003-2005. The show’s pilot set a record ratings high for an HBO original upon its premiere, but, although creator Daniel Knauf had crafted a storyline he intended to unwind over six seasons, the network cut “Carnivàle” short after only two.
The show concerns itself with a mythic battle between the forces of good and evil as played out against the backdrop of the Dust Bowl. These opposing forces seek human proxies with each new generation, “avatars” who must continue their fight. Of course, the humans don’t necessarily know they’re proxies, which is the case with “good” Ben Hawkins (Nick Stahl) and “bad” Brother Justin Crowe (Clancy Brown). “Carnivàle” follows both men, although Ben’s relationship with a traveling troupe of carnies, many of who possess their own magic abilities, seems to be the focus.
Biblical imagery and allusions, historical references, “avatars,” tarot readings, “prophets,” “ushers,” and many more abstract and esoteric elements left viewers scratching their heads, especially as the above explanation was never explicitly given within the series, but rather left for audiences to parse on their own and actively discuss in online forums, “Carnivàle” being one of the first shows to foster intense Internet fandom. Much of the cinematic beauty of “Carnivàle” is in fact a function of the series’ obsession with leaving clues. For instance, the positioning of Ben Hawkins and Brother Justin Crowe in relation to the two men sitting at the table behind them in the clip above is a clue, as is, possibly, their re-positioning when Brother Justin looks in the mirror. The song that plays in the background of the scene, as well as the waitress’ cryptic “Every prophet in his house” are both repeated several times throughout the series – more clues.
“Carnivàle” could be considered cinematic for the painstaking attention afforded its cinematography and the staging of its shots, as well as by virtue of the sheer scope of its narrative ambition – you don’t get much grander than biblical. Of course, neither an emphasis on style nor one on universal themes is exclusively the purview of film. However, given cinema’s larger budgets and scale, “big” has traditionally been left to the big screen. Not so with “Carnivàle,” which HBO afforded $4 million for its every episode. Additionally, given HBO’s great no-commercials policy, the show’s creators were able to tailor the runtime of each episode to the story’s needs. The hour-long show in actuality often ran anywhere from 40, 45 to a little over 60 minutes.
That Carnivàle seems to share a cinematic sensibility may have something – or everything – to do with the fact that creator Knauf initially wrote his series as a film script. Since “Carnivàle’s” cancelation, Knauf has vocalized his desire to either have another network pick up the rest of his story, or possibly have a studio turn it into a feature film. Given the hybridized nature of TV today, the landscape is ripe for a continuation of his cinematic show. Audiences may not have been ready for “Carnivàle” a decade ago, but by the looks of things, pop culture may have finally caught up.
