Treme Season Two

Television began as a live medium. It was designed to be ephemeral. This notion survived the invention of video tape and even the advent of the VCR. The last thing the networks wanted was to lose viewers because they missed an episode, so with the exception of soap operas, most television shows had plots that were contained to individual episodes. Network television required people to be in front of their TVs at a specific hour of a specific day of the week. Giving them shows that required that they never miss an episode was too much to ask, so with most shows, it mattered not whether or not you watched from its beginning or picked it up in the middle of its run. Only after cable television, Tivo, DVDs, and the internet have the kinds of season long, multiple story arcs like those favored by David Simon (The Wire) become popular. Shows like these required long attention spans, undivided attention and rewarded repeated viewing.

I’ve said since season one, Treme is not The Wire, but then New Orleans is not Baltimore. No one does site specific television like David Simon. The fact that he is not a native New Orleanian is only a testament to his talent and research and that of his assembled team.

No, Treme is not The Wire and musicians and chefs are not police and drug dealers. Film critic Roger Ebert has often lamented that movies don’t show enough of people at work. Well, just like David Simon’s series are site specific, they’re also job specific. While police offices and lawyers have often been fodder for drama, I have never learned more about the culture of professional musicians or chefs than I have while watching Treme.

Ladonna’s story arch once again anchors the season. Her sexual assault was the most compelling storyline of season two; just as her search for her missing brother was in season one. Her monologue at the end of season two was damn near perfect. I expect Khandi Alexander to win an Emmy.

That being said, the biggest scene stealer of season two was Wendell Peirce, but then Antoine Batiste is all about stealing this season. Stealing the spotlight from Bonerama during “Mr. Go” gave him the confidence to front his own band, but his over confidence lead him to steal Kermit Ruffin’s audience. His attempt to steal the spotlight from Wanda Rouzman during “Misty Blue” was the begging of the end of Antoine Batiste and the Soul Apostles.

This season was also about why we do what we do, for love or for money. Toni tries to give up pro-bon work for paying cases, but her sense of justice won’t allow her to. The point is driven home in the season finale with juxtaposition of the Nelson Hidalgo/ Arnie and DJ Davis/Aunt Mimi conversations. Arnie is probably still reeling from the fact that Nelson plans to buy and demolish homes that he has just put new roofs on. Arnie can’t understand how Nelson gets paid so much while not doing any actual work. When Arnie asks Nelson what he actually makes, all can say is that he makes “deals.” There’s a similar disconnect between Davis and Aunt Mimi. Davis, as an artist, can’t understand why Mimi would sell Lil’ Caliope’s contract to Cash Money before Brassy Knoll could even release a CD. Mimi, as a business woman, couldn’t pass up a chance to cash out of her investment in the label with a profit.

Shades of The Wire

The ghost of The Wire, and Jimmy McNulty in particular, were all over the Treme season two finale.

The cop car 69 between Colson and the FBI agent.

Sonny, sounding just like McNulty, asking “The fuck did I do?”

“Like raking leaves on a windy day.”  The words of The Wire’s Deacon coming out of Antoine Batiste mouth.

Annie calling out “Gumbo Ya Ya” to Davis while watching the Guardians of the Flame at Jazz Fest in the season finale was a reference to what Davis said to her in the season opener. It reminded me of the “Nicely done,” echoed back and forth between McNulty and Stringer Bell.

The scene where Woodrow (Jim True-Frost) gives Big Chief Albert (Clarke Peters) the fake royalty check was a re-union of Pryzbylewski and Lester Freamon. I missed the significance of this, but my #Treme peeps on Twitter picked up on it.

Not thin the finale, but is it just me, or did the Big Chief sound a lot like Lester Freamon when he said, “Four hundred ninety five dollars… and no cents.” in episode 12?

Moments out of time:

Antoine Batiste upstaging Bonerama on Mr. Go in episode 11.

Lucien Barbarin singing “Mack the Knife” during Nelson’s meeting with Robinette in episode 13.

The slow realization on my part that Alan Richman and Oliver Thomas were playing themselves.

Dinneral’s funeral in episode 15. That was a rough cold open.

Antoine Batiste in episode 15, “I got a nine piece band with fifty four fuckin’ pieces!”

Janette not knowing when she befriends Delmond in NYC, that he is the son of Big Chief Albert, the man she met at the Road Home office. It’s these kind of small world coincidences that make the New Orleans of Treme feel like a real city, like The Wire’s Baltimore or Robert Altman’s LA in Short Cuts. 

After waiting the better part of two seasons, finally in episode 18, a scene in The Palm Court.

The look on Kermit Ruffins’ face as he set to stealing back his audience in episode 19, “Antoine Batiste, you sho’ make me smile!”

“New Orleans infect music. It reconstitutionalates it.” Doctor John, in episode 20, but really, everything thing he said this season.

Desiree, in the season finale, echoing Antoine’s “Japan Japan?” from episode 16 when they both learn that Henry Butler is taking Trombone Shorty and not Antoine on his overseas tour.

The smile on Big Chief Lambreaux’s face at Jazz Fest. Is that the first time we’ve seen the man’s teeth this season?

Season three won’t arrive a minute too soon. 

Charlie Brennan is a Huge Douchebag.

Separated at Birth: Charlie Brennan and a Douchebag

Lots of people think that Charlie Brennan is a huge douchebag. But they raise a very important question: Is Charlie Brennan is a huge douchebag?

See what I did there? Rather than make an ad hominem attack (Charlie Brennan is a huge douchebag), I phrased it as an opinion and rather than claim it as my own I attributed it to a vague and unconfirmable group (Lots of people think that Charlie Brennan is a huge douchebag). Then, having camouflaged my personal opinion as that of the masses, I made it the subject of a phony debate (Is Charlie Brennan is a huge douchebag?)

Welcome to the logic (or lack, thereof) of modern political punditry, where the host of the show gets to frame each side of the debate. After all, why have an intelligent discussion with an actual person? If the opposing opinion is too nuanced for you to easily ridicule, just recast it as something completely ridiculous.  It’s called “building a straw man,” a practice frequently engaged in by people who should know better (like talk show hosts) for the entertainment of those who don’t (their audiences).

On a recent broadcast about SlutWalk, KMOX radio’s Charlie Brennan rhetorically referred to the Toronto police officer who said women can avoid rape by not dressing like sluts, as a “cretin.” Then, in defending the police officer’s statement, Brennan said that the question is whether or not the officer really is a cretin. He doesn’t quote any organizer or supporter of SlutWalk as having called the officer a cretin, just implies it. As far as we know, Brennan himself is the only one who used the world. Perhaps the police can protest KMOX and call it “CretinWalk.”

Brennan, like many SlutWalk opponents, focuses on the word “slut” or the erroneous idea that SlutWalk is about encouraging women to dress “slutty.” That’s kind of like saying that the Boston Tea Party could have been avoided if the colonists had just switched to coffee, or that the Montgomery Bus Boycotts were really about encouraging black people to walk more for cardiovascular fitness.

SlutWalk is about violence against women and the “blame the victim” mentality that much of the opposition to SlutWalk perpetuates. Brennan seems to subscribe to the myth that women who get raped are somehow asking for it by dressing provocatively. It begs the question, what is and is not dressing like a slut? How does a slut dress? Can it be defined, or is it one of those Edwin Meese “I know it when I see it” sort of things? Brennan asks what a woman is saying when she “dresses like a prostitute.” When was the last time Brennan saw a prostitute in real life?

Case in point, a woman has a date on a Friday night. If she wears high heels, a short skirt and lipstick, is she asking her date to rape her? How about all the men she will encounter that night who aren’t her date? Should she go out dancing in baggy jeans and a college sweatshirt?

What if a woman wants to jog in the park? A sports bra and running shorts are more revealing than many outfits a guy like Charlie Brennan might consider slutty. Do rapist give an exercise exception, or should she stick to a full length jogging suit even in the summer when the mercury rises near a hundred degrees? 

Let’s take it a step further, since pedophiles are attracted to children, let’s start dressing our children like adults. Send little Timmy to the playground in a Brooks Brother’s suit and a neck tie. If he wears that striped Rugby shirt again, he’s basically asking for it.

Folks, there’s no amount or style of clothing that will fool a rapist into thinking that a woman doesn’t have a body. Were that the case, no woman would ever be raped in countries that require burqas or a hijab. Ours is a society that punishes women for being women. Hollywood and Madison Avenue constantly tell women that they are not pretty enough, thin enough or sexy enough.  When a woman tries to rise to this standard of beauty and gets raped, the message she gets is that it was her fault. When a woman doesn’t try to rise to this standard of beauty and gets raped, guess what, she gets the same message.

Charlie Brennan equates a woman being dressed provocatively with burning a U.S. flag in front of a soldier or carrying a confederate flag through a black neighborhood. Aside from the fact that the latter two actions are overt (a woman has to leave the house wearing “something” everyday, how often do you have to carry or burn a flag in front of anyone?), they are also not subjective. You either burned a flag or you didn’t, but who gets to decide what’s slutty and what isn’t? The potential rapist?

Someday, we will be the kind of society that is more offended by a man’s lack of control than a woman’s lack of modesty. Until then… SlutWalk. 

Conversations with Rexy: I Want To Peel Your Skin Off

My friend Rexy is so funny, I had to give her a blog category of her own. She has graduated from "Shit Women Say To Me."

The following conversation took place in bed:

Rexy: I want to take a box-cutter, peel your skin off and take it home with me.

Me: Um... why?

Rexy: Because I love the way your skin feels.

Me: Wow, most girls would have just said, "I love the way your skin feels." But you led with the whole "box-cutter thing," because you're unique.

Twelve hours later, via text message:

Me: Have you seen the movie May? It made me think of you. I think you'll love it. We have to watch this movie together!

Rexy: Never seen it. What's it about?

Me: It's about a mentally disturbed woman whose best friend is a doll. It's the creepiest God-damned shit I've ever seen.

Rexy:  I think I may be insulted now.

Me: Just trust me.

Rexy: Just watched the trailer for May. Two things: I'm bringing a scalpel when we watch it and you'd better bring a good explanination and/or bribe.

Shit Women Say To Me: Glad You Can Read My Subtext

Her: What's this "you're smarter than I expected," "I like you more than I expected" stuff? Makes me wonder what exactly you were expecting! 

Me: I thought you were dumb and that I'd hate you.

Her: I appreciate your honesty. Speaking of dumb, can I peruse your book collection so that I can rectify my situation? 

Me: Sure. If by "peruse" you mean "suck" and by "book collection" you mean "cock."

Her: I'm glad you can read my subtext. 

Common Sense and the Southern Strategy

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