Critically-acclaimed television programs of the current production cycle possess characteristics of experimental nature marked by interdisciplinary devices, in all matters from scriptwriting to cinematography, which has resulted in something of a movement on the screen.
This has largely been ushered in by the opportunities that antiheroes provide when utilized as main or major characters within a piece. The Walter Whites and Don Drapers of TV Land have caused a revolution that is looking at the darker components of human nature and society at large, particularly within the Americas. Three shows, from three completely different sources, demonstrate different networks and production sources interacting with antiheroes. "True Detective," "BoJack Horseman," and "The Blacklist" all focus on protagonists that either embrace or struggle with various forms of disparity. Dr. Peter Jonason discusses the concept of a Dark Triad that consists of three different personality factors or disorders, through the scope of psychology applied to literary understanding that consists of psychopathy, narcissism and Machiavellianism. The main cast of "True Detective" consists of characters across both of its two seasons that cope and approach various forms of psychopathy — with Rust Cohle and Ray Velcoro sitting as the two most notorious figures from the show. BoJack Horseman of "BoJack Horseman" is parts human and equestrian, but he still holds narcissistic qualities that serve as some of the central conflict for both of its seasons thus far. James Spader portrays Raymond Reddington on "The Blacklist," a character piece that largely resembles "House M.D." in its focus on an antihero protagonist, but the criminal mastermind is more in the vein of Hannibal Lector than Sherlock Holmes.
These three pieces, with all their differences, hinge on the injection of a complicated hero for the audience to identify with. Television programs have been doing this for some time now, but despite claims that the revolution is coming to an end there is an immense range of creative opportunities that have sprung from the movement. The usage of this device, the antihero, permits for experimental techniques and style that are permitting for the evolution of a multitude of mediums.
Anthology series that change their cast with every season are rare pieces that have not seen the amount of critical praise that "True Detective" has garnered itself. That is not to say that the show is novel by any means, the accompanying sidebar discusses issues that the piece has suffered through, but it does make use of experimental form in conjunction with its dependency on antihero characters. Within the first season, Marty Hart and Rust Cohle investigate murders in the backwater of Louisiana that have ties to everyone from swamp cults to the governor of the state. Cohle, portrayed by Matthew McConaughey, is something of a stark nihilist that stands in opposition to traditional Christian ideals that pervade in the scenery. This is by no means accidental.
The author of every episode’s script, Nic Pizzolatto, makes careful use of juxtaposition within the script. There is an inherent binary created by the pessimistic, recovering alcoholic, do-things-my-own-way Nietzsche-ranting detective working to uncover mysteries detrimental to the local religion. There’s a staunch irony that comes with this flawed individual pursuing the truth, or the good of the universe, while the church silently works in the shadows. At times, the show even hints at Rust being the antagonist, rather than someone to identify with. The movement of ideas provides some commentary on institutionalized organizations of faith and their lack of infallibility, one cigarette and Lone Star beer can at a time. Within the second season, Rust’s spiritual successor comes in the form of Ray Velcoro.
Where Rust was more haunted by the blackness of his soul, Velcoro pursues a traditional hero’s journey. He seeks redemption for his mistakes, all for the sake of his son’s perception of the damaged man the audience is stuck with. Velcoro makes for laughter in humor blacker than the oldest pitch, but also fulfills a rocky and tragic redemption arc through a season that seems more like a carefully crafted Greek tragedy of modern design rather than a crime drama. Still yet, this device that is less about external opposition and more about internal opposition permits for fresh discussion on ideas of change and growth. The commentary provided by Pizzolatto within the second season is less about politics and policy; favoring man’s search for peace and meaning. This is not unlike the hardship of former family sitcom star, BoJack Horseman.
Within the warped vision of Hollywood in which BoJack exists there are some notably different occurrences from its real-world counterpart. The most obvious change is that there are anthropomorphic animals walking around among humans. Some interpret the stylistic decision to be a representation of Hinduism brought into an American context, but the literary elements of the second season promote some reflection more along the lines of Zen Buddhism. Within the show thus far, BoJack Horseman has proven himself time and time again to be a self-destructive narcissist that rarely cares about the situations of others in favor of his own legendary benders and privileged needs.
This protagonist has proven difficult for some audience members to identify with, largely because of how hard it can be to sympathize with a burned-out actor who consistently prioritizes their own wants and situations over those of his friends without fail. That said, the eventual self-awareness of the character launches forward a fascinating commentary on depression and the struggle for happiness. Rather than festering in black comedy, the vibrantly animated program follows a broken man trying to find inner peace in an atmosphere based almost entirely around mistake. BoJack makes very human errors that are sometimes hilarious and on other occasions entirely too real. Thoughtful, the piece’s second season threatens to end on a note of severe despair but instead sits on one of hope. While there is no doubt that BoJack will continue to threaten his own future, the dialogue is effective in creating new ideas for the viewer that may not be as concise in another medium.
Netflix originals, such as BoJack Horseman, are typically rather experimental — in a similar vein to productions put forward by HBO and Showtime. Despite the resources these organizations are privy to, cable is still sticking with the current trends. NBC, in particular, has been noted for hits like "Hannibal" and less thoughtful content, "Days of Our Lives," but a recent hit, "The Blacklist," has proven that cable television outlets still have something worth watching.
Raymond Reddington makes involvement in a criminal enterprise look more inviting than an IHOP after a night at the bars. The man never spends two nights in a row in the same place, has no direct interaction with technology outside of burner phones, and somehow manages to keep high-end vests properly tailored amidst shootouts with the F.B.I. he has as a shield and the dangerous terrorists which occupy his comprehensive blacklist of dangerous criminals. The show is very aware of the fact that Reddington is a criminal, but also provides situations that suggest the character is on a path to redemption, as antiheroes often are. Contrary to that claim, Reddington can be a brutal character that is willing to do things that make viewers uncomfortable and fearful. The character turns from charming patron at a restaurant to threatening to burn its owner alive with their own cigar and a significant amount of tequila. Jekyll and Hyde would stand agape at the swiftness of the transition. Similar to the classic tale, "The Blacklist" is best understood as a character piece.
Reddington’s interactions with a shadowy government in the United States as well as what is plainly a shadow government, in its entirety, provide some additional commentary on the ineffectiveness of institutionalized elements of the executive branch within the United States, from the D.E.A. to the C.I.A. This piece, as others do, utilizes the sympathetic antihero in a manner that permits the audience to have a fresh perspective on a variety of issues. In this case the issues are about criminal activity, justification, and questioning the government that we are subject to. With massacres set to catchy tunes and reflections on the importance of the soul after vindictive murder, "The Blacklist" challenges all other programs currently aired on cable television.
Hannibal Lecter, Dr. House, Walter White, Don Draper, Raymond Reddington, BoJack Horseman, Hamlet — there is an endless list of characters across all walks of fictional creation that represent the complicated aspects of the human condition, grim as they are. While anitheroes have been around for quite some time, this particular resurgence has created an atmosphere where almost every major successful program relies upon one or two. These figures have become a cornerstone of current media, and for good reason.
Damaged, broken people are easier for an audience to relate to. Hardened, saddened characters are satisfying to write about. Heavy and abstract content has ambiguous discussions which seek new settings and atmospheres in which to exist. More than all of that, bitter assholes have a lot more fun saying their truths and perspectives out loud. In a time where current matters are in a state of chaos, change, growth, and destruction there is no sounder crowd for people to look towards for the cynical truths or the hopeful silver livings. Television has been king for some time, and as an art form its movements are becoming much more apparent with every new lineup of shows.
