I've spent this long holiday weekend in varying states of overconsumption, inebriation, and recovery. I suspect that most of us who celebrated Thanksgiving proper have some idea of what food coma looks like, and also what intoxication feels like: sadly, in the end, despite our fervent attempts at individuality and uniqueness, our bodies enjoy -- and suffer through -- the same processes pretty similarly. We eat, we pass out. We drink, we pass out. It's pretty much universal.
But what we do when we wake up from those meals and evenings out, especially with extra days off to figure into the equation, is what separates us from each other. Some of us with deathwishes venture out and shop. Some of us just order up a bloody mary at brunch and continue with the grateful-to-be-alive holiday bender. Some of us gleefully toss the turkey carcass into the stockpot and whip up some stock for wintertime soups. Me, I make myself a large vat of Thai green curry with salmon and potatoes, a big pot of rice, and park myself in front of the television to figure out which cable network has the best Law and Order marathon option.
Only this year, I've not had the luxury of cable television post-Thanksgiving. Instead, I dove headlong into the iTunes music store and fished out the one television show that I'd heard tons about, but had yet to see, mostly because it was not only a cable show, but a friggin' premium cable show: Dexter. And in the course of a day and a half and many bowls of fiery green curry, I watched the entire first season of my favorite new TV show. Oh my word.
The 30-second premise: The titular character is a forensics expert in the Miami Police Department by day, and by night is a sociopathic killer who preys on folks who wrongly beat the justice system -- folks who literally got away with murder. Those sorts. It's wonderfully shot, with a great cast and in season one, a nice long story arc that satisfied my need for cliffhanger-y, serial TV. Michael C. Hall, as Dexter, does an amazing job playing a man who grapples with the tension between being a sociopath who seemingly has no emotions or little affect, and finding in his professional and personal relationships ways to develop stand-ins for those emotions -- and, along the way, even getting close to actually... feeling. Let me also add that the show is funny as all get out. No, seriously -- if the devil made comedies, this would be it.
If you want to get a glimpse into all of this, check out the opening credits, which continue to blow me away every time I see them. Ostensibly just a montage of scenes of Dexter's morning routine, the credits let those moments unfold from an entirely unconventional perspective. There is a sumptuousness here, a very palpable ... something, that is at once daily life but also, in its up-close-ness and textures, an undercurrent of something darker -- not violent per se, but how what seems 'natural' or normal -- waking up, eating, uh... flossing -- also contains within it something almost animal-like, almost beastly. And incredibly... er.. erotic. Christ, it's just a beautiful opening sequence.
I know I'm behind the times with this rhapsody, folks -- pretty much everyone I know has already jumped on the Dexter bandwagon. But in case you haven't -- get a copy of season one, heat up some leftovers (or, if you're up to the task, green curry is a good bet too), and sit in front of the telly with this one. Hot sociopaths make for pretty riveting television.
[Also, could someone please tell Showtime to put season two on iTunes already? I still don't know how to do this bit torrent business.]
'i'm watching you'
Posted by: h-p n-f | November 27, 2007 at 04:21 AM
the bf is totally hooked on this show. we have showtime on-demand if you want to come over and marathon it some weekend day...
Posted by: ks | November 27, 2007 at 12:01 PM