OZ: The HBO Series.
Given my rather intense interest in the sociology of prison life, it's amazing that it's taken me this long to engage the HBO series OZ. Maybe it is because after six full seasons, the series is completed. It's nice to know that I can purchase the entire world of the show in a self-contained set of discs. That's not the way it's going to be though. Last weekend at a church rummage sale out in the sticks, I found the third season DVD set for $15. I had some reservations about jumping into the middle of the story, but I figured that I couldn't pass up such a great deal. It was an ideal chance to determine whether or not the show is a worthwhile investment. Not too long ago I had the opportunity to buy four seasons all together at Half Priced Books at a reduced rate, but I passed on it. Now I'm reconsidering the wisdom of that decision. Amazon.com sells the individual seasons for more than $30 each, and the entire collection for $208.
Having watched 6 of the 8 episodes in Season 3, I'm already pretty sure that I'm going to purchase the rest. While OZ is certainly a sensationalized take on contemporary maximum-security American prisons, it contains enough recognizable truth to keep me engaged. All the standard cliches associated with incarceration are jam-packed into every episode- extreme and sudden violence, homosexual rape, drug abuse, crooked guards, solitary confinement, smuggling, race conflict, and lots of trash-talking. The typiical ethnographic breakdowns are in evidence. Inmates find their places within the enclosed system. There are the skinheads, black Muslims, Latinos, homeboy gangsters, the mafia, the Christians, and the fags. A lot of the fun of watching OZ over time is found in the shifting alliances between the groups. Just as in the larger society, continual negotiations determine the quality of order the inmates experience in their day-to-day existences. Within the routines of an intensely controlled life, much can change in an instant. There are indeed rules, but among a population selected for their breaking of laws- there's a generous serving of fluidity. "Honor among thieves" is mostly just a myth.
Despite my abbreviated experience with OZ, I already feel confident making some generalizations. It seems that the prison staff provides a great deal of the continuity. In almost every episode some inmate is getting wacked. It's quite difficult to predict what the hierarchy among the prisoners is going to be, even over a short period of time. But Tim McManus (the staff captain- played by Terry Kinney), Leo Glynn (the warden- played by Ernie Hudson), Sister Peter Marie Reimondo (the nun counselor- played by Rita Moreno), and Gloria Nathan (the head of medicine- played Lauren Velez) provide an element of stability. Of course even the stalwart employees ride the roller coaster of fortune within this institution.
For me the inmates themselves are much more compelling. Naturally there are a lot of tough guys in this environment. Each gang has their particular leaders jockeying for position. But the most intriguing characters for me are the ones that defy categorization, and refuse to be limited to any particular subgroup. Ryan and Cyril O'Reily (Dean and Scott William Winters respectively) are two Irish brothers who seem to get their hands in as many pies as possible. Chris Keller (Christopher Meloni) walks the fine line between being the master manipulator and a stand-up guy. Tobias Beecher (Lee Tergeson) is a wolf-in-sheep's clothing. Simon Adibisi (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje) is the archetype of the lone crafty warrior. Kareem Said (Eemon Walker) is a man of God, struggling with his spiritual imperfections. Underestimating any of these folks is an often fatal mistake. On the other side of things is Vernon Schillinger (J.K. Simmons), radiating palpable menace- he is the wizened white supremacist. Even though we know exactly where he stands, he's capable of a surprise or two.
Of course emotionality is a sign of weakness in this particular context. But a drama would be sterile without vulnerability and ambiguity- so the creators of OZ grab every opportunity to portray such elements. Somehow they manage to make even the vilest of men into fully-fleshed humans. This is a strength of the show that only occasionally descends into soap-operish melodrama. In the real world, life in a prison like the Oswald Correctional Facility would likely be a drone of boredom punctuated by startling moments of violent clarity. But who would watch that? When I catch myself wondering whether OZ is an accurate representation of life in prison, I make a note to suspend my disbelief and enjoy the ride.
That being said, I do have one major objection to the show. Every episode I've watched so far has been introduced by a wheelchair-bound inmate named Augustus Hill (Harold Perrineau). He is set in a surreal series of vignettes that attempt to build allegories on which to hang the events of each particular episode. Along the way the show is interrupted by these segments, with often cheesily-written and presented commentary referring to the story arc. This device not only disrupts the flow, but also counteracts the gritty realism of OZ. Happily, this unfortunate misstep is a small price to pay for the sheer testosterone-laden entertainment of the show.
Having watched 6 of the 8 episodes in Season 3, I'm already pretty sure that I'm going to purchase the rest. While OZ is certainly a sensationalized take on contemporary maximum-security American prisons, it contains enough recognizable truth to keep me engaged. All the standard cliches associated with incarceration are jam-packed into every episode- extreme and sudden violence, homosexual rape, drug abuse, crooked guards, solitary confinement, smuggling, race conflict, and lots of trash-talking. The typiical ethnographic breakdowns are in evidence. Inmates find their places within the enclosed system. There are the skinheads, black Muslims, Latinos, homeboy gangsters, the mafia, the Christians, and the fags. A lot of the fun of watching OZ over time is found in the shifting alliances between the groups. Just as in the larger society, continual negotiations determine the quality of order the inmates experience in their day-to-day existences. Within the routines of an intensely controlled life, much can change in an instant. There are indeed rules, but among a population selected for their breaking of laws- there's a generous serving of fluidity. "Honor among thieves" is mostly just a myth.
Despite my abbreviated experience with OZ, I already feel confident making some generalizations. It seems that the prison staff provides a great deal of the continuity. In almost every episode some inmate is getting wacked. It's quite difficult to predict what the hierarchy among the prisoners is going to be, even over a short period of time. But Tim McManus (the staff captain- played by Terry Kinney), Leo Glynn (the warden- played by Ernie Hudson), Sister Peter Marie Reimondo (the nun counselor- played by Rita Moreno), and Gloria Nathan (the head of medicine- played Lauren Velez) provide an element of stability. Of course even the stalwart employees ride the roller coaster of fortune within this institution.
For me the inmates themselves are much more compelling. Naturally there are a lot of tough guys in this environment. Each gang has their particular leaders jockeying for position. But the most intriguing characters for me are the ones that defy categorization, and refuse to be limited to any particular subgroup. Ryan and Cyril O'Reily (Dean and Scott William Winters respectively) are two Irish brothers who seem to get their hands in as many pies as possible. Chris Keller (Christopher Meloni) walks the fine line between being the master manipulator and a stand-up guy. Tobias Beecher (Lee Tergeson) is a wolf-in-sheep's clothing. Simon Adibisi (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje) is the archetype of the lone crafty warrior. Kareem Said (Eemon Walker) is a man of God, struggling with his spiritual imperfections. Underestimating any of these folks is an often fatal mistake. On the other side of things is Vernon Schillinger (J.K. Simmons), radiating palpable menace- he is the wizened white supremacist. Even though we know exactly where he stands, he's capable of a surprise or two.
Of course emotionality is a sign of weakness in this particular context. But a drama would be sterile without vulnerability and ambiguity- so the creators of OZ grab every opportunity to portray such elements. Somehow they manage to make even the vilest of men into fully-fleshed humans. This is a strength of the show that only occasionally descends into soap-operish melodrama. In the real world, life in a prison like the Oswald Correctional Facility would likely be a drone of boredom punctuated by startling moments of violent clarity. But who would watch that? When I catch myself wondering whether OZ is an accurate representation of life in prison, I make a note to suspend my disbelief and enjoy the ride.
That being said, I do have one major objection to the show. Every episode I've watched so far has been introduced by a wheelchair-bound inmate named Augustus Hill (Harold Perrineau). He is set in a surreal series of vignettes that attempt to build allegories on which to hang the events of each particular episode. Along the way the show is interrupted by these segments, with often cheesily-written and presented commentary referring to the story arc. This device not only disrupts the flow, but also counteracts the gritty realism of OZ. Happily, this unfortunate misstep is a small price to pay for the sheer testosterone-laden entertainment of the show.
posted by Merge Divide at 4:30 PM
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