Tag: house of cards
Finally, House Of Cards Is Less Sensational Than Real Life

Finally, House Of Cards Is Less Sensational Than Real Life

Yesterday, Netflix released its first trailer for the fourth season of House of Cards, the wildly popular show produced by the online streaming service. The trailer reveals a bubbling conflict between Frank Underwood, currently the president and seeking reelection, and Claire Underwood, his wife and foil, as they wreak havoc on Washington in a contemporary, fictional United States.

Sure, there’s a destructive and power hungry couple who’ve turned their guns against each other, enmeshed in a failed marriage and a nearly-failed presidency. But there’s no fascist insult comic pawning his celebrity to dupe middle America’s underemployed. Yes, there’s a faucet dripping with what looks like blood, but there are no post-industrial cities forced to drink the lead-tainted result of their governor’s austerity fetish.

There are no Brooklynite Socialists, no neurosurgeons hawking snake oil, no indictments over faked organ harvesting videos, no Ivy League hard liners preaching Christian theocracy. No confused mama’s boys, no overwrought coverage of repeated talking points, and no chance — at least, judging from the trailer — that perhaps the most experienced candidate in recent history finds her political ambition stunted by some social media movement created by voters half her daughter’s age.

All the political triangulation and murder seem tame by comparison. The next season comes out on March 4.

Late Night Roundup: The *Real* Iranian Agent!

Late Night Roundup: The *Real* Iranian Agent!

Jon Stewart interrogated none other than former Vice President Dick Cheney — a red balloon with a frowny face — about his allegations that President Obama is working to benefit Iran. The big question: Who actually did the most to benefit Iran’s position in the Middle East?

Larry Wilmore had a panel discussion on conspiracy theories — featuring a very special guest, the one and only Neil deGrasse Tyson, to debunk all the nonsense.

David Letterman pivoted off recent news with a list, “Top Ten Questions To Ask Yourself Before Landing A Gyrocopter On The United States Capitol Lawn.”

Conan O’Brien chatted with former Congressman Barney Frank about political TV shows — and Frank really does not like House of Cards.

Jimmy Kimmel hosted the legendary Betty White. And Jimmy showed Betty a special tribute: Video chats with fans who have gotten tattoos of Betty herself.

More Playwrights Satisfying TV’s Hunger For Talent

More Playwrights Satisfying TV’s Hunger For Talent

By Linda Winer, Newsday (TNS)

It’s hardly news that many New York actors support their theater lives by moonlighting — make that daylighting — in lucrative TV series. For years, the “Law & Order” franchise practically functioned as a foundation grant for actors working for spare change in nonprofit theaters. In recent years, as “L&O” whittled from five shows to just “Special Victims Unit (SVU),” others such as “The Good Wife” have been offering quality roles that, among other benefits, keep theater actors off the unemployment rolls.

There is a related headline, however, and it gets bigger every time I realize I’ve been watching far too much TV. The news — and it mostly seems to be good news — is about American playwrights. You remember playwrights, the artists who, if they are lucky, snag a spot on an Off-Broadway schedule, but mostly watch audiences flock to limited Broadway runs with movie stars or big-event imports from London.

Well, people enjoying their favorites on high-end cable, Netflix, Amazon.com, and increasingly ambitious networks may not notice the names that blip by on the credits. What viewers must notice is how good these shows are, how gripping the dialogue is, and how dangerously addictive the story lines can be.

Today’s TV — with its rapidly multiplying demand for prestige hit shows and New York locations — is suddenly hungry for playwrights. What a concept. As Lowell Peterson, executive director of the Writers Guild of America East, sees it, “Playwrights are so good at crafting characters and structuring dramas that it’s a natural fit.”

This is not without precedent. Aaron Sorkin was a playwright before “The West Wing” and “The Newsroom.” Warren Leight won a Tony for “Side Man” before he morphed into the guiding voice at the institution that is “Law & Order.” And Theresa Rebeck wrote for “NYPD Blue” before double lives for playwrights became a topic of discussion.

But look behind the screen at “House of Cards,” the Netflix political satire starring Kevin Spacey. The series, which just finished streaming its third season, is the baby of Beau Willimon, whose appreciation for backroom politics was already clear in “Farragut North,” which ran Off-Broadway in 2008.

He also appreciates — which means he hires — other playwrights. One in his writers’ room is Melissa James Gibson, whose “Placebo” just finished its Off-Broadway run at Playwrights Horizons. Gibson was a writer on another of my favorites, “The Americans” on FX, and moved last year to “House of Cards.” “Beau has a lot of respect for the theater,” Gibson told me in a recent interview, “and Netflix puts a lot of faith in the artists.” (Laura Eason, also a writer on the show, is having her play “The Undeniable Sound of Right Now” produced by the Women’s Project.)

I asked Gibson how writing for TV is different from stage work. She said, for one thing, that the collaboration is “less lonely. It’s fun to be in the process. We start in a group, talking through the shape of the season, then individual episodes are assigned to individual writers.” What about the effect of that process on her own work? “There’s no time to have a precious thought. You throw so many ideas around that you can’t get attached to your darlings. I find it liberating, sort of Zen, working always forward….There’s a rigor to that.”

And then there’s the money, which Gibson said “is a ton compared with theater.” In accord with the Writers Guild contract, playwrights also get pension and health benefits — practically unknown in nonprofit theater.

Peterson says pay rates are a little different, depending on whether writers work, for example, on a prime-time network show or what he calls “high budget basic cable.” Both guarantee $3,910 a week for a full season. If writers create an entire 60-minute prime-time network episode, they get an additional $37,500. For high-budget basic cable, a 60-minute episode is about $27,000. Rates go up if you are a producer as well as a writer. Residuals vary depending on network and time of rerun.

“The starving artist is not a career model,” he says with admirable certainty.

As Tracey Scott Wilson puts it, “It’s really nice to be able to take care of yourself as an adult.” Wilson, whose “Buzzer” is having its premiere at the Public Theater, is going into her third year as a writer on “The Americans.” She doesn’t find writing for both media that different, because, ultimately, she finds both so collaborative.

“TV writing is so dialogue-heavy and theater is all about the language,” she told me in a recent interview. “And I’m lucky I’m on a show where the words matter.” She also appreciates that working on a TV series has “made me a faster rewriter.”

Wilson is black and a woman, which makes her depressingly unusual in the TV business. “I don’t know what the statistics are,” she said, “but there definitely are not as many black women writing on TV.” She’s hoping that the “unbelievable success” of Fox’s “Empire” will “get more minority voices out.”

Although all of the playwrights I interviewed are women, it may just be coincidence. All agree that we cannot make optimistic assumptions about gender parity strides on TV, though Peterson mentions that “there is more attempt to diversify the rooms” both on TV and films.

Other cautionary — or at least more measured — notes are heard from Bathsheba Doran, whose rich and smart “The Mystery of Love & Sex” is an Off-Broadway hit at Lincoln Center Theater’s Mitzi E. Newhouse Theater. Doran, who began as a TV sketch writer in London, started her double life before the current boom. She says she was the only woman writer during her years at “Boardwalk Empire.” She recently stopped writing for “Masters of Sex” because she didn’t want to live in Los Angeles, where the show is based.

She affirms that TV “worked the story muscle. I got much more practice aggressively creating story lines…very useful work on the skill set” And a gift for dialogue is “absolutely vital” for both stage and TV.

Doran is working on two HBO projects, including one of her own, but feels strongly that TV denies writers “one very important element of creativity — making the final decision.”

She agrees that the idea of “selling out” to Hollywood seems very quaint these days, that TV offers different satisfactions than theater does and tat “it is a very nice feeling to be able to support your family.”

But she also thinks the money can be a danger. I asked whether TV is helping theater by supporting playwrights or killing the theater by robbing its talent. She turned the question a bit and answered “No, the love of money will kill playwrights.”

She sounds skeptical when playwrights say they can write on the set. “Maybe some can, but I need the time and space away.” A challenge is being able to turn down a big TV paycheck in order to “take a risk on a blank sheet of paper.” Still she agreed, it’s very nice to have the option.

Photo: Blondinrikard Fröberg via Flickr

An Empire Without Heirs: Season 3 Of ‘House Of Cards’ Brings The Show Home

An Empire Without Heirs: Season 3 Of ‘House Of Cards’ Brings The Show Home

(Warning: This review contains Season 3 spoilers.)

“They rule an empire without heirs. Legacy is their only child.”

Frank and Claire Underwood, those Beltway Machiavels, have schemed and connived for so long, they’ve left a coat of fresh blood on every rung from the South Carolina state Senate to the Oval Office.

Now, at the start of House of Cards‘ third season—in the crosshairs of scrutiny unlike anything they’ve ever seen, and lacking another summit to climb—the Underwoods seem slightly lost, stumbling around the corridors of power without their coordinates. The same could be said of the show, which was all about the ruthless ascension of its antiheroes. When you get to the top, what then? There’s nowhere to go but down.

“I’m starting to question all of this. What are we doing this for?” Claire asks.

“For this house,” Frank replies. “For the presidency.”

But whose house? And whose presidency? That’s the rub at the heart of Season 3.

As if Frank’s asides weren’t enough, this year the show knocked a few more bricks out of the fourth wall by introducing a metafictional element in a new character: a novelist named Tom, who is commissioned to hype Frank’s domestic agenda, but ends up writing a tell-all about Claire and Frank’s marriage. “That’s the key to the whole thing,” he says. Subtle. Forget politics; it’s about couples counseling.

But House of Cards was never just the portrait of a marriage; it was about the whole rotten town. Every Washingtonian — from the pols to the staffers to the journos — was as vicious as the Underwoods, if less competently so. After two years of teeming depravity from all sides, the show finally has something new to report, some delicate possibility of grace lurking under the everyday parade of massacre: family.

House of Cards wasn’t very interested in who its characters were when they left the office, or what the “men in their smoky back rooms,” as one character puts it, did when they went home. The seats of power function as work/life diodes, channeling all of the characters’ time, energy, and passion into achievement and ambition, leaving nothing but a chasm of dread when they slow down or step away from the rat race long enough to look at themselves honestly. It took two seasons, but the family, with its quiet comforts and promise of deliverance, finally comes to the fore.

Early in the season, a Supreme Court Justice, diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease, wonders whether to continue working or retire as soon as possible to live out his remaining years with his wife — signaling the tension that is the primary focus of the new season. “I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal,” says Remy, a former lobbyist and now Frank’s chief of staff, quietly awakening to the cold void his life has become. Frank’s protégé Jackie Sharp marries a surgeon, instantly absorbing his picture-perfect two children, but it’s a political calculation; the true comforts of family elude her. Even Doug Stamper, Frank’s vicious fixer, gets to spend a few halcyon days with his brother from Ohio and his wife and two children, emblems of the simple pleasures of domesticity, home, and anonymity that he ultimately rejects when he buries poor Rachel Posner in the ground.

It’s a choice that every character must make in the third season, and it’s this dichotomy between the bottomless hell that comes with pursuing power and the redemption that comes with rejecting it that makes Season 3 the most compelling and devastating edition thus far.

Oh, but it’s not all dour, existential angst. The show’s ludicrous plot threads and flashes of high camp continue to abound, delightfully. It turns out House of Cards is escapist for an entirely unexpected reason. For all of the exaggerated (are they?) horrors of realpolitik on display, the show presents an alternate world that is actually very comforting: It reduces inscrutable dilemmas of international affairs to the daily trivia of domestic affairs.

What a soothing notion — that the fate of the Jordan Valley is tangled up in the squabbles of a high-functioning power couple. Wouldn’t it be nice if Russian-U.S. relations hinged on one gay-rights activist’s relationship with his husband?

Maybe this is the season in which House of Cards came clean. It’s not really about politics at all. It’s about the dynamics between husbands and wives writ large — forgiveness, resentment, compassion, and love that sours with time — playing themselves out in the global stage, dictating the fate of nations.

As if politicians were humans with beating hearts. Wouldn’t it be nice to think so?

Image: David Giesbrecht for Netflix