I've seen critics posit that Deadwood is a more optimistic show than its HBO brethren like The Sopranos and The Wire. I think it's true to a degree; the show spends more time showing people uniting and finding solace in the tumult than those from the other two Davids of HBO. But at the same time it has its own brand of pessimism at its core -- that people will be killed, shunted aside, or hobbled and the world will go on without anyone really knowing or caring about it.
And yet, there are scenes in episodes like "Amateur Night" where I get it. I absolutely get it. There's something truly heartwarming about the mini-parade of the town's schoolchildren going from their old schoolhouse to their new one. For as frustrating as Seth Bullock can be, he's never so admirable or decent as when he's cutting his usual heavy-handed justice routine short so that he can fulfill his promise and walk, smiling, hand in hand with Martha. For as frustrating as Alma can be, she's never so pleasant as when she's smiling and waving back at Sophia as the little one joins the sojourn. And I take back anything I said about the choice to make Joanie and Jane romantic. Their holding hands, and the comment about needing one another for support (literal and figurative) is as sweet a moment as any on this show. That's where Deadwood excels -- at these little scenes about the town, and its people, coming together, that show the brighter side and benefits of a community, not just the mud and gunshots necessary to achieve it.
It comes through just as well in the titular "Amateur Night" hosted by Langrishe's troupe. Langrishe himself continues to be an utter delight on the show as he makes his way about town, buying his bit of legitimacy with Alma at the Bank and making offers to Charlie Utter with delightfully florid verbiage and wordplays that hits the peak of even Milch's Shakespearean style. But that gathering at the end, with everyone from the nominal mayor to the Gem's prostitutes out to enjoy festivities, shows the town as full of life and hidden talents. Whether it's Johnny Burns's sweetheart of a prostitute's unexpected singing talents, or Richardson's all-too-brief juggling act, or the various balancing tricks performed by folks from the crowd, we see this little explosion of life at the heart of Deadwood. Even Fields is carting the brain-addled Steve to enjoy the show. It's one of those scenes that captures an energy, the fun and mild chaos of such a gathering, and makes Deadwood feel like the kind of place you'd like to visit, if only for a day or two before the murder started up again.
And yet the episode also takes care to show us the people who are not taking part in this bit of fun. Mr. Hearst may look on, but he focuses on his plan with Pinkertons to grind this town under his bootheel. Alma is brushing Sophia's hair (after a nice reunion with Trixie) and seeming more like herself now that she's off the junk. Bullock is away from it all, the revelry not being suited for his usual grumpiness. And lastly, of course, there's Al Swearingen, holding the Gem down all by himself, singing songs about being in a coffin, and feeling like he's the only one who recognizes the storm that's on the horizon while everyone is out singing and playing. Al is a man of talents himself, showing off a bit of pipes that suggest in other life, he might have stood besides Langrishe on that stage, but instead he lurks on the outside of that mass of humanity, only catching it at the margins, just as he did for William's funeral. Al forces himself to be above such things, to avoid the bread and circus unless he's providing it, and deny himself the pleasures of the folks even more common than him. But it's clear that even as he fears the worst, fears the fray that may tear the whole town asunder, he wishes he could be a part of it, and more than that, that he could keep it.
Otherwise, we see Hearst's plan continue apace. Poor Merrick getting beat up by Hearst's hatchetman is a sad scene (though him being looked at by Doc in the gem has some great lines. The same hatchetman running afoul of Bullock seems like a bit of a narrative speedbump rather than genuine development, but we'll see where it goes. And Commissioner Jarry yawping like a baby bird is one of the weirder things I've seen on a show that can get pretty out there at times. Still a good episode.
Review by Andrew BloomVIP 9BlockedParent2016-08-02T22:52:09Z
I've seen critics posit that Deadwood is a more optimistic show than its HBO brethren like The Sopranos and The Wire. I think it's true to a degree; the show spends more time showing people uniting and finding solace in the tumult than those from the other two Davids of HBO. But at the same time it has its own brand of pessimism at its core -- that people will be killed, shunted aside, or hobbled and the world will go on without anyone really knowing or caring about it.
And yet, there are scenes in episodes like "Amateur Night" where I get it. I absolutely get it. There's something truly heartwarming about the mini-parade of the town's schoolchildren going from their old schoolhouse to their new one. For as frustrating as Seth Bullock can be, he's never so admirable or decent as when he's cutting his usual heavy-handed justice routine short so that he can fulfill his promise and walk, smiling, hand in hand with Martha. For as frustrating as Alma can be, she's never so pleasant as when she's smiling and waving back at Sophia as the little one joins the sojourn. And I take back anything I said about the choice to make Joanie and Jane romantic. Their holding hands, and the comment about needing one another for support (literal and figurative) is as sweet a moment as any on this show. That's where Deadwood excels -- at these little scenes about the town, and its people, coming together, that show the brighter side and benefits of a community, not just the mud and gunshots necessary to achieve it.
It comes through just as well in the titular "Amateur Night" hosted by Langrishe's troupe. Langrishe himself continues to be an utter delight on the show as he makes his way about town, buying his bit of legitimacy with Alma at the Bank and making offers to Charlie Utter with delightfully florid verbiage and wordplays that hits the peak of even Milch's Shakespearean style. But that gathering at the end, with everyone from the nominal mayor to the Gem's prostitutes out to enjoy festivities, shows the town as full of life and hidden talents. Whether it's Johnny Burns's sweetheart of a prostitute's unexpected singing talents, or Richardson's all-too-brief juggling act, or the various balancing tricks performed by folks from the crowd, we see this little explosion of life at the heart of Deadwood. Even Fields is carting the brain-addled Steve to enjoy the show. It's one of those scenes that captures an energy, the fun and mild chaos of such a gathering, and makes Deadwood feel like the kind of place you'd like to visit, if only for a day or two before the murder started up again.
And yet the episode also takes care to show us the people who are not taking part in this bit of fun. Mr. Hearst may look on, but he focuses on his plan with Pinkertons to grind this town under his bootheel. Alma is brushing Sophia's hair (after a nice reunion with Trixie) and seeming more like herself now that she's off the junk. Bullock is away from it all, the revelry not being suited for his usual grumpiness. And lastly, of course, there's Al Swearingen, holding the Gem down all by himself, singing songs about being in a coffin, and feeling like he's the only one who recognizes the storm that's on the horizon while everyone is out singing and playing. Al is a man of talents himself, showing off a bit of pipes that suggest in other life, he might have stood besides Langrishe on that stage, but instead he lurks on the outside of that mass of humanity, only catching it at the margins, just as he did for William's funeral. Al forces himself to be above such things, to avoid the bread and circus unless he's providing it, and deny himself the pleasures of the folks even more common than him. But it's clear that even as he fears the worst, fears the fray that may tear the whole town asunder, he wishes he could be a part of it, and more than that, that he could keep it.
Otherwise, we see Hearst's plan continue apace. Poor Merrick getting beat up by Hearst's hatchetman is a sad scene (though him being looked at by Doc in the gem has some great lines. The same hatchetman running afoul of Bullock seems like a bit of a narrative speedbump rather than genuine development, but we'll see where it goes. And Commissioner Jarry yawping like a baby bird is one of the weirder things I've seen on a show that can get pretty out there at times. Still a good episode.