Who is the tool?

My (relatively) new domestic arrangement has exposed me to habits and patterns that sometimes confound me. For instance, my roommates have the capacity to be entertained by television shows that I’ve never considered viable sources of amusement. I’ve seen things that have shocked me with the most banal and ridiculous examples of human behavior. I had no idea that both cable and network programming had reached its current depths. Neither would I have expected intelligent viewers to settle for the poor quality product put in front of them.

Still, I’ve been told repeatedly throughout my life that folks value escapism, and apparently the more mind-numbing it is, the better it satisfies the singular need of the audience. Certainly the choices made in my household illustrate that point. The MTV music awards prove to be a meaningless and contrived spectacle, meant to appeal to the lowest common denominator. Reality shows offer insipid dialog, loathsome personalities, and situations that would strain credibility if penned by a scriptwriter for (even) the dullest of dramas. And consumers are meant to laugh at the most cliché jokes of today’s so-called sitcoms.

If I’m in the room when the idiot box is on, it’s sometimes impossible to ignore. As a result, I’ve learned that L.A. is still filled with self-absorbed, sub-human, empty shells that cynical producers put forth as fascinating subjects of study. I find it all insulting to the social condition. But obviously there are plenty that disagree. So I make my best attempt to find something redeeming about whatever’s on. Otherwise my hatred for my fellow man will know no bounds. Most of the time I’m thwarted in my efforts.

Yesterday I discovered “Tool Academy”. The set-up for this show is a supposed nationwide search for the ultimate “bad boy’. Unsuspecting dolts audition for a competition that will identify the “Alpha Males” of America. But within the first (or so) episode they realize that a trick has been played on them. Their girlfriends have submitted them for consideration as the worst mates in the nation. And all the video footage that they willingly had shot of themselves mouthing off and bragging becomes evidentiary material. They get to sit beside their disconsolate honeys as the very worst parts of their personas are displayed for a live crowd and America at large.

To add insult to injury, the creators of “Tool Academy” have enlisted the aid of an imperious relationship counselor with a distinguished British accent apparently meant to mask the vast level of stupidity the proceedings represent. And so it goes- a parade of self-delusion, an awesome lack of common sense, and a cavalcade of absolute nonsense. Is it representative of the quality of intimate pairings of the populace? If it is, then evolution has truly reversed itself, and our species must soon inevitably cede to another classification of animal. Our citizens are literally retarded, emotionally and otherwise.

Could it be that this show actually serves some sort of useful purpose other than the empty calories derived from the titillation of digesting extreme obnoxiousness? Is it a useful guide in what to avoid in dealing with your significant other? Perhaps some unfortunate viewers will see reflections of their own lives in the hapless guys and gals onscreen. I suppose if even a single woman decides to dump her misbehaving man after noting his resemblance to one of these buffoon contestants, then some redemption for its existence might be proven. Yet it’s easy to counter that anyone who has chosen to invite the presence of such a creature into her life deserves the burden of its continued presence.

Watching Serials.

Two nights ago M. and I watched the series finale of Jericho. We completed all 29 episodes in about a month. That sounds like we tore through it, but the truth is that before we had Baby E. we might have seen it all within a week. We used to push our bedtimes back a lot, and egg each other on to watch "just one more episode". It's strange to think that, although most people reading can likely relate to what I'm talking about, the phenomena of watching an entire television series at one's own speed is relatively new in human history. Hell, the same thing can be said about TV in general. Now there is very little I like better in the realm of entertainment than to burn through the run of a series.

We liked Jericho. Neither the acting nor the writing was especially exceptional, but we were captivated by the premise of the show (remarked upon here). The narrative and the themes were particularly suited to the serial form. I can hardly imagine being a kid in the 50's and going to the theater to watch something similar. You'd actually have to wait weeks until the next installment in the chain of cliffhangers came out. That would be excruciating. I don't even think we'd have enough patience to wait for it on Netflix. We need to have all the episodes on hand so that we can pop it in whenever we anticipate having an hour of relative freedom. It's not just about our inability to delay gratification.

We're becoming old hands at considering market exigencies when it comes to television programming. If a show doesn't quickly garner a large audience, then it is gone without much hesitation. It doesn't usually matter whether the critics deem it a "quality" series. We internalized that lesson when Carnivale (which I still think is the best serial of all-time, followed closely by Twin Peaks) was cancelled. And I know we are not alone. So it wasn't devastating to see Jericho wrapped up in a slightly arbitrary way. It was less painful because we knew what was coming. I feel bad for those who invested themselves in watching it on network television. They had to face the disappointment of its unnatural death, as well as confront whatever dreck replaced it in its time slot.

What was interesting about the DVD package was that they included two versions of the last episode- one that was aired on broadcast television, and one that was meant to leave viewers wanting more. In this case the differences were subtle. M. and I differ in our requirements regarding resolution. Most of the major plot threads must be tied up, or otherwise M. feels a bit unsatisfied. On the other hand, I don't mind filling in the gaps on my own. Jericho met both of our requirements on that count. There was no feeling of being left hanging. Yet we did get the chance to imagine what a Season 3 could have looked like. It would have been nice to have been able to form a reasonable guess about where Carnivale was going when HBO pulled the plug.

Now we have to figure out what's next. We definitely plan to order the 4th season of Lost. That's a given. We are fully invested already. Aside from that I have a few ideas. There are some unresolved shows from the 90's that I missed and intend to order- FOX's Profit, CBS's American Gothic, and UPN's Nowhere Man. For most people, I believe these flew completely under the radar. As far as more contemporary viewing is concerned, I've already mentally committed to watching AMC's Mad Men. And Showtime's Dexter is calling out to me louder and louder. Finally, I have been convinced to give HBO's The Wire a try. There are just too many folks claiming that it's the best television drama ever produced. We'll see about that.

Alan Ball, "Six Feet Under- Season 1"

There are certain consumer choices and behaviors that seem to mark individuals as members of the American mainstream. An almost unwholesome obsession with sports (mostly in a strictly voyeuristic sense) is one of them. Another is an addiction to cable television. Every once in awhile someone who I don't know very well will assume that I share these proclivities, and launch into a subject using names and terms that are unfamiliar to me. When this happens I have a few options. I can quickly change the subject to something I do know about. I can remain relatively silent and nod my head as if I understand completely. Or I can explain that I don't participate in these "activities" in any meaningful way.

Usually, if I respect the person I'm talking with, I'll opt for that last choice. I'm always prepared for a quick end to such a conversation. And it's often a relief to me when that expectation is realized. I find most of the programs (and sporting events) that the average media consumer prefers boring. I can't exactly trace the development of my attitude. When I was a kid, I watched all the popular shows. But at some undefined point in my early 20's, most of the stuff on television ceased to compel me to continue watching. It just didn't seem relevant to the things I was experiencing in my life. A lot of material that I would have once laughed at or been excited by seemed contrived. I suppose I lost some friends when this happened.

After awhile I discovered ways to find things that did resonate with my life. The internet came around at the ideal time, and access expanded to a point that I could identify films, books, and music that challenged and intrigued me. For years I built collections of items that I felt would be essential. Over time I had to cast my sights further afield to ferret out the gems. Through a strange and circuitous inverted path, I have recently found myself buying DVDs of television programs that I missed along the way. The latest series I've been exploring is the HBO production Six Feet Under. It was a quirky show broadcast between 2001 and 2005. Alan Ball, the writer of American Beauty, created the concept.

Six Feet Under garnered a lot of critical acclaim and many awards. Some have made the claim that it was one of the best dramas ever made for television. While I tend to avoid that type of superlative- after watching the first season I can recommend it as a quality show. It concerns a family that owns and operates a funeral parlor. Ruth Fisher (Frances Conroy) is a middle-aged widow with three (mostly) adult children who all have a tendency to keep their inner lives repressed. The oldest (Nate, played by Peter Krause) has been brought back to his childhood home by the death of his father, after casting about in a Northwestern slacker existence for a decade-and-a-half. His reluctant reintegration is facilitated by a developing relationship with Brenda (played by Rachel Griffiths), a brilliant but troubled young woman raised under the close scrutiny of two eminent psychologists.

Middle child David (Michael C. Hall) is the presumptive head of the family business. He's inherited his tendency to be a control freak from his mother, and is struggling to come to terms with his repressed homosexuality. And then there is Claire (Lauren Ambrose), the baby of the family, who has her own adolescent difficulties dealing with being the high school "freak". All of the principles are competent (if not outstanding) actors, and their performances benefit from the quirky plot threads and dialog written into the show. Obviously death plays a large role as an organizing theme. There is ample dark humor included to temper the constant background of tragedy that permeates the narrative arc.

Perhaps the most admirable aspect of Six Feet Under is its unflinching willingness to confront controversial subject matter in an apparently honest way. There are certainly elements of magical realism threading through the episodes, but they never distract from the impression that the viewer is watching an essentially truthful depiction of an unusual American tableau. Ultimately that's what attracts me to the show- I find it insightful enough to keep watching, even when it hits the occasional awkward note. I don't know whether or not I'll make it through the full run, but what I've seen so far has justified its existence.

David Lynch and Mark Frost, "Twin Peaks" (1990).

After watching the complete offerings of several television programs that I had always wanted to see (Oz, Carnivale, The Prisoner), I finally decided to take a stab at seeing the entire Twin Peaks series. The show was created by David Lynch and Mark Frost, and was first aired starting in 1990 on ABC. It was tremendously original, and took millions of viewers by surprise. Lynch had made a string of extremely idiosyncratic features, including Eraserhead (1977), Dune (1984), and Blue Velvet (1986) . In short, he was already known as one of the strangest filmmakers in American history. I remember when Twin Peaks first came out because it got an astonishing amount of critical and commercial acclaim. It caught media observers off guard, because it was put up against Cheers (one of the most popular sitcoms in history) on Thursday nights. Everyone involved with the project was taken aback by its tremendous reception. Viewers were captivated by the show, and anxiously waited out the intervening days between episodes, wondering what would happen next.

The central puzzle in Twin Peaks dealt with the question, "Who killed Laura Palmer?" The teenage character was everything a girl would want to be- popular, beautiful, smart and talented. She had what appeared to be a loving family and many friends. Yet in the wake of her death, it was revealed that she had a hidden life that no one truly knew about. The unraveling of that story is the focus of the series pilot and its first season of seven episodes. Surrounding that main narrative was a full cast of quirky and odd characters. Kyle MacLachlan played FBI agent Dale Cooper, who was called in to help sheriff Harry S. Truman (Michael Ontkean) investigate the killing of Palmer (played by Sheryl Lee). Meanwhile there was a devious hotel owner (Richard Beymer), a black widow (Joan Chen), the manager of a saw mill (Lynch-favorite, Jack Nance), and a community doctor (Warren Frost). Surrounding these prominent figures was a bevy of young and attractive actors including Sherilyn Fenn, Lara Flynn Boyle, Madchen Amick, James Marshall, and Dana Ashbrook. And this was but a mere sampling of the major players.

There were certainly a lot of folks to keep track of. In fact it might have been an overwhelming prospect had it not been for the genius of Lynch and Frost. The dark atmospheric beauty and the enigmatic qualities of the main setting made watching Twin Peaks particularly compelling. The rustic little Northwestern town and its surrounding forests provided a suitable tableau for the type of mysteries that its creators had in store. Charming details like Cooper's love of cherry pie, and the inordinate donut consumption in the sheriff's office seized its obsessive audience, and inspired parties organized around each episode. Tantalizing glimpses of a surreal dreamworld, and appearances by a giant, a dwarf, and a woman carrying a log for a companion hooked the collective imagination of all who watched.

By the time the first season was concluded, Twin Peaks had been promised a second one. It took nine more episodes to get to the revelation of Laura Palmer's killer. Some were satisfied, and others were left cold by the explanations. Still there were thirteen installments yet to come. Many felt that the show lost its tension and genius with the solution of Palmer's death. Naturally people had been clamoring for the answer for as long as it was dangling on the edge of events. Yet its eventual disclosure somehow removed an essential aspect of what had made the story so irresistible. Indeed neither Lynch nor Frost had ever planned on resolving the main question in the first place. They had correctly identified that device as the element that made the series work. But the network financiers believed that the audience needed resolution, and forced it upon Lynch and Frost. The remaining 13 episodes meandered through a range of fantastic and unlikely narrative threads. The back end of Twin Peaks was still quirky, but vaguely anticlimactic.

Despite the relatively disappointing nature of the second half of the series, I found a wealth of enjoyment in watching Twin Peaks in its entirety. More than fifteen years after it originally came out, its excellence is still obvious. There is a good reason that this show forever changed the standard for quality serial television. I noticed more possibilities for development that ultimately went unexplored in Twin Peaks than most shows have offered altogether. Any loose ends it left by its conclusion should be forgiven- as it delivered more in its two seasons than 99% of all television, before or since its appearance. In fact there is a whole new generation of viewers just now discovering its brilliance, with the recent complete series release on DVD. If like me you missed it the first time around, make sure to grab this opportunity to see Twin Peaks. It's more than just entertaining... it's an education in the possibilities of the form.

The Conclusion of HBO's "Oz" (Years After the Fact).

Today M. and I completed our viewing of the complete series of HBO prison drama Oz. It truly was a long, strange trip. Six seasons of machismo, menace, shifting alliances, violence, and betrayal should satiate even the most bloodthirsty of viewers. Yet at the dark heart of this journey, there is some humanity to keep us engaged. If Oz doesn't make you reflect on the prison industry (one of the fastest growing sectors in our 'New World Order economy'), then you're not watching closely enough. This milieu represents the most fatalistic and complex microcosm of our society, and if you think it represents only a narrow portion of the United States- then I think you are sadly mistaken. While it's true that life in 'Emerald City' (the 4th level unit in which most of Oz's action takes place) is an exaggerated depiction of what modern incarceration is like, it does present us with a general picture of some of the extreme difficulties that we face in our administration of 'justice'.

Season 6 brought us a heaping dollop of what we'd come to expect from watching the previous seasons. Oz's creators were never shy about eliminating its main characters, no matter how much we were led to feel for them. The last eight episodes clearly illustrate that absolutely no one is untouchable. Sometimes the abrupt endings of these lives is randomly meaningless, just as in our external reality. If we learn nothing else from this show, it is that fate is often arbitrary and capricious. One major player is eliminated in such a shockingly unexpected way that it seems anti-climactic. At other times the demise of an inmate occurs in such a dramatically poetic way that it seems almost inevitable. In fact one such episode is underscored by a big house production of Shakespeare's MacBeth that contains a fitting resolution to a conflict set up in the very first show of the series. Part of the fun (as it were) of watching Oz lies in the anticipation of these conclusions. As in life, sometimes they are satisfying, and sometimes not.

Even when I thought that I could track the logic of the scriptwriters, I occasionally found myself tricked, and sometimes devastatingly so. Episode 6 is particularly wrenching. M. and I found ourselves viewing an unthinkable story arc that inverted our feelings and hopes for those involved. It was amazing that we could be taken to such emotionally vulnerable states simply with the dramatic depiction of something we know has happened in the past. Good television strives to close the distance between the cold hard facts we hear in the news and the visceral effects of harrowing experiences, aptly portrayed by competent professional actors. Sometimes the result is magical, causing us to feel a depth of compassion we were barely aware existed within ourselves. The realization of deeply held empathy is our reward for subjecting ourselves to such tragedy. Episode 6 was the perfect example of this process. I found myself weeping for almost a half hour after seeing it.

The ultimate finale of Oz was (I believe necessarily) a bit dissatisfying. Within the last couple episodes there were intriguing new characters introduced, and tales just beginning their development. There were plenty of threads left unexplored, and their presence suggested that the creators had enough material available for an additional season. I'm not sure whether or not the word of Oz's cancellation came down while they were still shooting Season 6, but it really seemed as if Tom Fontana and company had more up their sleeves. Ultimately it doesn't matter because Oz is gone now, and has been for several years. It is left up to the viewer to speculate on the lives of the remaining inmates and administrators of Oswald Penitentiary. Neither M nor I knew what to expect in terms of resolution before watching Season 6, but I am comfortable with my speculations about the unseen futures of the characters.

It seems that any lack of closure in a television series is enough to keep curious viewers from engaging it. In the case of Oz, I feel that any hesitation based upon this absence of tidy endings is a mistake. If you have a strong stomach and enough open-mindedness to take a look at the underside of humanity, then you owe it to yourself to watch Oz. As citizens of the US, each and every one of us is complicit in a justice system that aims to protect us from those who stray outside the bounds of our laws. Turning a blind eye to the ugly realities that are created by our methods of incarceration and punishment only contributes to a collective ignorance. Having the courage to confront the complexities and consequences presented by our choices will not yield pat answers, but it can be enlightening. Why not shine a bright light into society's black corners? Can the revelations about what lurks in the darkness be as frightening as the darkness itself?

A Definite Lack of Resolution.

I find it extraordinarily odd that we humans crave resolution so intensely despite the fact that the closest we can ever really get to it in this existence is death. This yearning appears most obvious in our approach to entertainment. There seems to be an American trait that causes viewers to become distraught when the stories told to them aren't fully resolved by their conclusions. How does the urge to find out what happens next transform into a compulsion to arrive at the final destination? M. and I completed season 2 of Lost tonight. We watched 47 episodes in less than two weeks. Considering each segment was more than 40 minutes long, that marathon is rather remarkable. Of course there is much more to come. Season 3 will be released on December 11th, and I'm certain we'll be continuing our obsession shortly after that.

Tonight I read that there will be six seasons of Lost released. We won't know all the answers until several years from now, and that suits me just fine. Sure... tonight's viewing left us with an entirely new set of questions. Although I experienced a moment or two of deep dissatisfaction, I'm comfortable with living with the mystery. This isn't the first time that we've left off a series on an unfinished note. My favorite show of all time was Daniel Knauf's Carnivale. HBO prematurely canceled that after two seasons. It was initially intended to run to six seasons, and the series finale was a major cliffhanger. The property is still owned by HBO, so even if Knauf wanted to finish the story- he couldn't do it. He claims that he would rather leave it upended than try to wrap up the intricate plot in a miniseries or graphic novel. I've come to peace with that decision in the years since Carnivale's demise.

Meanwhile M. and I watched the first four seasons of OZ earlier this year. We've got two more waiting for us on my Amazon wish list, and although I've been tempted a few times to purchase them, I feel good knowing that they are waiting for us sometime down the road. Years ago we watched the first few episodes of Twin Peaks and then faded out. I still intend to see that in its entirety. In addition I have the second season of Lars Von Trier's The Kingdom shrink-wrapped on my shelf. We'll get around to that too. I want to watch the 60's era British series The Prisoner some day. I'm always looking out for other intriguing titles that promise unseen imaginary worlds. I'd probably need several lifetimes to watch everything that's worthwhile. And there's always new stuff being made. So there's really no hurry. It makes more sense to sit back once in awhile and enjoy the journey.

It's too bad I can't fully embrace that perspective in the events of my life outside entertainment. I'd give a lot right now to see the end of the strike I'm currently embroiled in. But eventually there will be a new contract for us. It may even take several years before it happens, but eventually it's inevitable. Several years after that we will be in another contract negotiations. There will always be a "yet to be decided" situation. Hell, I've got a kid on the way that I hope outlives me. Preferably I'll never see his end. Yet still I'll be looking forward to some imaginary time where everything will be solved and I'll be able to put my feet up and sit back without a care. It's humorous that when I was young I thought there would come a time when I was fully actualized. I guess I pictured some plateau where I would finally find myself and "just be".

Adult onset has removed such naive hopes from my dreams. I'm not looking for any particular ending, happy or otherwise. It's enough just to manage the constant stream of things as they present themselves. I've actually begun to enjoy the simple pleasure of having something to look forward to. It's a weird dislocation in a society that is increasingly millenarian. Yesterday on the line I met a woman that believed that we are in the biblical "end-times". She advised me to read Revelations. While many people I know would have immediately felt the compulsion to move away from her as quickly as possible, I felt inspired to get to the root of what she was saying. Unfortunately her conception turned out to be merely a vague manifestation of the common desire for resolution. It seems like so many of our contemporaries have their eyes on a finish line as an escape from the present. That's too bad. I, for one, would like to prolong the mystery of life.

ABC's "Lost".

M. and I have decided to do another compulsive marathon viewing of a television series. This time around it is ABC's Lost. Last Thursday evening a friend called to alert me to the closings of two local Hollywood Video stores. They were selling their catalogues at a marked discount, and I was lucky enough to hear about it before all of the good stuff was taken. I came home with 22 additions to my collection, 13 of which comprised the complete sets for the first two seasons of a show I've been intrigued by since I initially became aware of its premise.

For some reason I've always been fascinated by the deserted island scenario. Although I never read Robinson Crusoe, I knew its basic plot from a very early age. The idea of washing ashore and finding myself completely alone was at once frightening and exciting. Would I have what it would take to survive under such conditions? Certainly not... but the challenge is interesting to consider. Those thoughts eventually transformed into reflections of who I would like to have with me on such a journey. I remember taking undergraduate prerequisite courses for a teaching certificate, and designing an assignment wherein I made a list of fictional characters and asked a group of students to decide who they would choose to save from a hypothetical sinking ship. This activity made people look closely at both their personal values and their survival instincts.

In retrospect I suppose it was completely natural that I eventually decided to invest in Lost. Created by J.J. Abrams, Jeffrey Lieber, and Damon Lindelof, the series begins with an awful plane crash and a harrowing scene of survivors on the beach of an unidentified island in the Pacific Ocean. The main players slowly reveal themselves over the first few episodes. Immediately we meet Doctor Jack (Matthew Fox) and Kate (Evangeline Lilly). It's immediately clear that these two characters are going to be with us a long time, and that we are probably going to eventually see them fuck (not explicitly though, as this is prime time network television). They are instantly recognizable as leaders in the initial chaos of the show. But we are also introduced to a host of other folks whose roles are initially unclear. Much of the fun of Lost is found in trying to predict how each one of these people will react to the difficulties that lie ahead.

It's always tricky to write a review of an ongoing series, especially if (like me) you've only watched about 18 episodes of the first season. On one hand you don't want to assume that you know the parameters of the show, but you also have to be careful to avoid spoiling the surprise for people that are moved to check it out after reading the review. So if you have already decided to go ahead and see it, you might want to skip the remainder of the post. Either way, I'll try not to spoil your fun.

As you might expect from a show that already includes four complete seasons, the island setting has a multitude of surprises and mysteries in store for the audience. It's important to note that the group of survivors that we encounter right-off-the-bat numbers around 47 people. If you're familiar with the typical conventions of the medium, you are probably aware that series producers generally limit the amount of characters that they expect viewers to get to know at any particular point in time. So for all intents and purposes, we get a focus on about 14 individuals . These players are revealed through flashback segments that gradually give us insight into their personal histories and circumstances before the tragic plane crash. This device both alleviates the claustrophobia of the prime setting, and helps explain the various motivations and complexities of the varying subjects.

Meanwhile the remaining portion of the main survivor group lurks anonymously in the background. While their absence is sometimes striking, Lost's creators use it to their advantage. These "seldom-seens" comprise a reserve of replacements for deceased main characters, and promise to assume unknown roles in future story arcs. We are even occasionally reminded of their anonymity by satirical comments made by the major figures. There is a running joke whereby a star will refer to an unknown as "Scott" or "Steve" only to be corrected by someone else who informs him/her that they have gotten it backwards. This little joke reinforces the fact that only the merest bit of the complete story has been told. Conversely, the situation of "unknowns" also results in the sinister introduction of enigmatic plot twists.

It becomes clear that the island was not completely uninhabited when the crash occurred. There are "others" and that amps up the creep factor of the show. By necessity the creators left themselves with ample possibilities to explore. I'm told that the Lost concept was presented with the pilot episode and the series conclusion completely worked out. But it was left to a multitude of writers to fill in the bulk of the show. The open-ended nature of that setup suggests that viewers are in for lots of unexpected discoveries along the way. Whether or not Lost will eventually "jump the shark" is yet to be determined. There is ample opportunity for that to happen. Yet so far I have had a lot of fun with it. There's a good balance of emotional tone, and the concept remains intriguing. I'll let you know when I feel differently.

Continuing in "Oz".

M. and I have now worked our way through the fourth season of Oz. That's a total of forty different episodes that we've watched since late Spring. I've also watched Seasons 1 and 2 twice. I realize how obsessive a quest this is, but its a viewing pattern M. and I have repeated now with several different television series. There's just something appealing about watching one show after another. You really get a sense of the continuity of the story. While I was considering taking an extended break before we finish Oz- we still have Seasons 5 and 6 to watch- I'll probably break down and order them soon. I do want to keep the events fresh in my mind.

This last set of sixteen episodes was a pretty wild ride. From what I understand, HBO was hesitant to extend the show past the third year. So when the producers were finallly given the go ahead, they took the liberty to make twice as many segments as usual. Season 4 defies a lot of expectations, and tends to be a lot more sensationalistic than the previous runs. It's as if its creators knew they had to up the ante and create a lot of hype. Certainly they had reached the point where they risked losing viewer interest. We see several major shake-ups to both staff and the inmate hierarchy. In addition we lose a few of the most charismatic characters in the show's history to both death and attrition. For sure there are no lack of surprises.

But at the same time, the seasoned OZ viewer should have developed a fairly deep understanding of the logic of the show by this point in the series. Simply by musical cues alone, I could often accurately predict the eventual fate of many of the minor characters. Perhaps this is why the writers felt the need to stir things up with unlikely scenarios. Season 4 brings us Adibisi's realization of an all-black "utopia" in Emerald City. That plot arc not only strained credibility, but actually crossed the line into the ludicrously unbelievable. Another show introduces a television news magazine crew to the unit. As one might imagine, few of the inmates are on their best behavior. For me though, the absolute worst premise introduced in Season 4 is a subplot involving Dr. Nathan's administration of an experimental drug to inmate volunteers. Mercifully the show's creators let that idea die a quick death.

It's a fact that any worthwhile series is going to present certain consistent emotional and atmospheric tones, and exhibit some consistency of philosophy. In this respect OZ is certainly no exception. This is a darkly brutal and cynical show. In making a commitment to viewing it in its entirety, I knew I was setting myself up. Ultimately I have developed the notion that nothing good is ever going to come for these folks, whether they are on staff or among the convicted. Even in a universe as immoral as OZ we start to see patterns of subtle justice running through the treatments of these characters. Season 4 seems to go out of its way to reinforce the reality that its principals "got nothin' coming". There were a few occasions where I found myself wishing (in futility, as it turned out) for just one good thing to happen to my favorite characters. No doubt there is satisfaction in seeing a long-hated inmate utterly destroyed, but it might be heartening once in awhile to see a good guy get rewarded by a good turn.

Regardless I have to give the show's creators credit for trying to keep viewers guessing. While they didn't always succeed with their more adventurous experimentation, I was not bored. I was also pleased by the unconventional casting choices of some of the minor characters- David Johansen, Ally Sheedy, Method Man, John Lurie and Luke Perry make appearances in Season 4. While its soul-crushing tenor may be levying a subtle toll on my spirit, I'm determined to see this through to its conclusion.