7.5/10. Everyone in Deadwood is waiting for something in "Leviathan Smiles." No one is focused on the now, on what is happening. Everyone is waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the next eventuality, for the great event or development that's sure to ensue.
Martha and Joanie are waiting for the new school to open. Fields is waiting to leave town until matters at the Livery are settled. Langrishe is waiting for Chesterton to die. And Hearst is waiting for his cavalry to arrive. Each finds these events delayed, each finds that something is delaying them, something is preventing it from happening as soon as they might prefer, even if it's clear that they're dreading it a bit.
The strangest of these is the scenes between Fields and Steve the Drunk. I have to admit, I've grown pretty tired of Steve's antics. I understand the point of the character, but they haven't really varied his behavior or developed him beyond his sour grapes mentality, and hearing the repeated racial invectives he bandies about is probably accurate to the time, it's not exactly fun to listen to. His renewed (and reinvigorated) backhanded offer to make Fields his partner is more of the same. We get that Steve feigns superiority and hatred but is actually desperate for help from the black men he maligns and yet needs dearly. His plan to stymie Fields by unshoe-ing his horse (replete with a conversation between him and the horse) leads to a very strange scene, that feels ripped from a broad Jim Carrey comedy rather than Deadwood.
Still, there's something to the idea that even after Fields finds Steve having been kicked in the head by the horse as a result of this plan, he cannot leave until Steve is seen to. If anything, the show goes a little too far in terms of implausibility at how noble Fields is here. Sure, he has the frustration where he throws the grits in Steve's face, but he nurses Steve and looks after him and most importantly doesn't bail on him even after all the shit that Steve's stirred up. I suppose it's to show that there's a goodness in Fields that prompts him to do far more than is required, that makes him the opposite of Bullock. Bullock has this doctrinaire notion of right and wrong that leads him to mete our justice by the ear and by the winchester and by the cage, whereas Fields has just as strong a sense of morality, but it leads him to kindness and self-sacrifice instead -- coming back face the music over little William Bullock and caring for bigoted stump of a man when he'd be will within reason to leave that wretch to the mess he'd made for himself. Fields is good, probably too good, but there's something to one of the lowest men in social statute of Deadwood, like his pal Jane, also being one of those most devoted to helping others.
The most affecting is Langrishe easing Chesterton into death. So much of what's going on in the camp is dependent on Chesterton's death. Langrishe seems unwilling to open the theater until it happens, which means the school doesn't move which means Joanie and the other folks waiting on it start to get restless. It's unclear to me why Langrishe wants to wait for this event, but it creates a little domino effect, that this all rests on one gentle man finding his end. There's an ugliness to the scenes with Chesterton, where he coughs that blood-curdling cough and seems only half there. But there's a sweetness to his exit, immersed in a setting that seems to have been his life's work and joy, exchanging snippets of poetry and prose with his best friend, and fading away in the warm firelight. It's a beautiful, gentle scene in a series with little gentleness or beauty.
(The other moment of gentleness in this episode are the scenes with Martha and Seth Bullock, Seth is far more interesting with his wife than he is with any other character on the show. The way Martha both sees through him (commenting that he was projecting his frustrations from elsewhere on her ("aiming to quarrel since you woke up") and brings out the best in him (making him realize that's what he was doing, sincerely apologizing after doing it sarcastically, and in the end promising twice as much sweetness), not only makes her an interesting foil for the main character, but makes Bullock the most likable he's been since the series began.)
There's little gentleness involved when the Earp brothers show up, despite their attempts to ply their trade at the Gem and the Bella Union. I'm not sure how I feel about this pair. Again, there's not as much depth or intrigue to the characters out of the gate as I might have liked, and it feels like a kind of strained attempt to throw another big name into the proceedings when the show's already overstuffed with characters and has established more than enough interesting ones that I wish we got to spend more time with (like, for instance, Johnny Burns and the prostitute he seems to have found a connection with in a nicely understated pair of scenes here), to where adding another pair with a famous name doesn't really do much for me.
Really, the best addition this season has been Langrishe. Brian Cox is a revelation, and the way that he can shift between comedy, in his broadly drawn snake oil massage routine he performs on Hearst, to sincere drama, in his touching goodbye to his friend, elevates any scene that he's in. Hearst declines to rest after that massage, because he too is waiting on something. The letter written by Bullock, which causes him to pay an angry visit to Merrick, leads to those "25 bricks" arriving into town. Men on horseback carrying torches bound in, and with them, the threat of muscle to support Hearst's plans to turn Deadwood into Gomorrah. By the end of the episodes, some people are still waiting. Fields hasn't left town yet, and the move to the new school is not quite there, but others big events come to fruition, the death of Chesterton and the arrival of Hearst's new henchmen, and each big event portends great change.
Review by Andrew BloomVIP 9BlockedParent2016-08-02T17:28:54Z
7.5/10. Everyone in Deadwood is waiting for something in "Leviathan Smiles." No one is focused on the now, on what is happening. Everyone is waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the next eventuality, for the great event or development that's sure to ensue.
Martha and Joanie are waiting for the new school to open. Fields is waiting to leave town until matters at the Livery are settled. Langrishe is waiting for Chesterton to die. And Hearst is waiting for his cavalry to arrive. Each finds these events delayed, each finds that something is delaying them, something is preventing it from happening as soon as they might prefer, even if it's clear that they're dreading it a bit.
The strangest of these is the scenes between Fields and Steve the Drunk. I have to admit, I've grown pretty tired of Steve's antics. I understand the point of the character, but they haven't really varied his behavior or developed him beyond his sour grapes mentality, and hearing the repeated racial invectives he bandies about is probably accurate to the time, it's not exactly fun to listen to. His renewed (and reinvigorated) backhanded offer to make Fields his partner is more of the same. We get that Steve feigns superiority and hatred but is actually desperate for help from the black men he maligns and yet needs dearly. His plan to stymie Fields by unshoe-ing his horse (replete with a conversation between him and the horse) leads to a very strange scene, that feels ripped from a broad Jim Carrey comedy rather than Deadwood.
Still, there's something to the idea that even after Fields finds Steve having been kicked in the head by the horse as a result of this plan, he cannot leave until Steve is seen to. If anything, the show goes a little too far in terms of implausibility at how noble Fields is here. Sure, he has the frustration where he throws the grits in Steve's face, but he nurses Steve and looks after him and most importantly doesn't bail on him even after all the shit that Steve's stirred up. I suppose it's to show that there's a goodness in Fields that prompts him to do far more than is required, that makes him the opposite of Bullock. Bullock has this doctrinaire notion of right and wrong that leads him to mete our justice by the ear and by the winchester and by the cage, whereas Fields has just as strong a sense of morality, but it leads him to kindness and self-sacrifice instead -- coming back face the music over little William Bullock and caring for bigoted stump of a man when he'd be will within reason to leave that wretch to the mess he'd made for himself. Fields is good, probably too good, but there's something to one of the lowest men in social statute of Deadwood, like his pal Jane, also being one of those most devoted to helping others.
The most affecting is Langrishe easing Chesterton into death. So much of what's going on in the camp is dependent on Chesterton's death. Langrishe seems unwilling to open the theater until it happens, which means the school doesn't move which means Joanie and the other folks waiting on it start to get restless. It's unclear to me why Langrishe wants to wait for this event, but it creates a little domino effect, that this all rests on one gentle man finding his end. There's an ugliness to the scenes with Chesterton, where he coughs that blood-curdling cough and seems only half there. But there's a sweetness to his exit, immersed in a setting that seems to have been his life's work and joy, exchanging snippets of poetry and prose with his best friend, and fading away in the warm firelight. It's a beautiful, gentle scene in a series with little gentleness or beauty.
(The other moment of gentleness in this episode are the scenes with Martha and Seth Bullock, Seth is far more interesting with his wife than he is with any other character on the show. The way Martha both sees through him (commenting that he was projecting his frustrations from elsewhere on her ("aiming to quarrel since you woke up") and brings out the best in him (making him realize that's what he was doing, sincerely apologizing after doing it sarcastically, and in the end promising twice as much sweetness), not only makes her an interesting foil for the main character, but makes Bullock the most likable he's been since the series began.)
There's little gentleness involved when the Earp brothers show up, despite their attempts to ply their trade at the Gem and the Bella Union. I'm not sure how I feel about this pair. Again, there's not as much depth or intrigue to the characters out of the gate as I might have liked, and it feels like a kind of strained attempt to throw another big name into the proceedings when the show's already overstuffed with characters and has established more than enough interesting ones that I wish we got to spend more time with (like, for instance, Johnny Burns and the prostitute he seems to have found a connection with in a nicely understated pair of scenes here), to where adding another pair with a famous name doesn't really do much for me.
Really, the best addition this season has been Langrishe. Brian Cox is a revelation, and the way that he can shift between comedy, in his broadly drawn snake oil massage routine he performs on Hearst, to sincere drama, in his touching goodbye to his friend, elevates any scene that he's in. Hearst declines to rest after that massage, because he too is waiting on something. The letter written by Bullock, which causes him to pay an angry visit to Merrick, leads to those "25 bricks" arriving into town. Men on horseback carrying torches bound in, and with them, the threat of muscle to support Hearst's plans to turn Deadwood into Gomorrah. By the end of the episodes, some people are still waiting. Fields hasn't left town yet, and the move to the new school is not quite there, but others big events come to fruition, the death of Chesterton and the arrival of Hearst's new henchmen, and each big event portends great change.