Not much to say today. Or lately, for that matter. I am at another (seemingly more frequent) turning point in my blogging career (okay, hobby), where I seem to have let it slip into the dark recesses of importance, and wonder if it’s worth the bother. That it’s now considered a ‘bother’ is maybe an indication of the problem. Perhaps I’ve grown tired of what I’d been writing, and haven’t found a new direction that pleases or interests me yet. Maybe the new TV season will inspire me (heaven forbid that I am pinning my hopes on continued blogging on what I watch on television).
Hey, did anyone catch the final episode of Season Three of Deadwood that aired last Sunday? Did it satisfy you? Seems to be a lot of people on Deadwood forums who are miffed at the way it ended. Me, I loved it. I thought it was a fantastic ending (which I won’t divulge here, to protect the future-viewing of those who haven’t yet, but plan to, see it).
While there is talk, apparently, of a 4 hour miniseries to come that will presumably wrap the series up, I’m not holding my breath and consider last Sunday’s show the final of the series. It’s too bad. I enjoyed Deadwood immensely in its first two seasons, but this season, I became absolutely enamoured of every aspect of it. To me, there has never been a better written TV show, in terms of pure beauty of dialogue and turns of phrase. Yes, every fourth word seems to be ‘fuck’ but, man, you gotta get over that. The acting, too, is second to none. Ian McShane’s Swearingen is one of the best characters ever put to celluloid or video tape. Never has a character clenched his jaw better than Tim Olyphant’s Sherrif Bullock. Every actor seemed to so fully inhabit the characters that they portrayed that it really was like watching friends. (hey, that refers back to the title of this post! People will think, maybe, that I intended that. But, really, it was coincidence)
I quote here, not necessarily an absolute favourite section of dialogue, but one that I really enjoyed.
This bit of dialogue takes place in episode 26 (season three – episode 2). Bullock has just beaten E.B. (played wonderfully, always, by William Sanderson – the “Larry” of Newhart’s “Larry, Darryl and Darryl” fame), and E.B. is being cared for by Richardson, who is his somewhat-stupid slave/helper. E.B. always takes great delight in putting Richardson down and belittling him. I loved this scene:
(In E.B.’s room at the Grand Central, Richardson is hunched over him, applying
balm to the wounds on E’B’s face.)
EB: Could you have been born, Richardson, and not egg-hatched as I’ve always assumed? Did your mother
hover over you, snaggle-toothed and doting, as you now hover over me?
Richardson: I loved my mother.
EB: Puberty may bring you to understand what we take for mother love is really murderous hatred and
a desire for revenge. (Hetakes a drink.)
Richardson: Will you give your speech to be Mayor tonight?
EB: Whatever night I give it, count on me not to mince words. “Electors of the camp, as to who should serve as Mayro,
reasonable men may differ. But as to who should be Sheriff…we all ought to speak with one voice. And our words should be, ‘turn out the maniac Bullock, who set upon the Mayor unprovoked, who beat him with merciless protraction.’
Bullock should be murdered! We should rise up and murder Bullock! Thank you very much.”
Richardson: My father didn’t liked me.
EB: I’d like to use your ointment to suffocate you.
(He flinches as Richardson dobs on more ointment.)
So, anyway. I’m going to miss the show. I’m going to miss the characters. Moreso, I think, than I did/do Six Feet Under. And, yes, I’m going to miss the swearing. The beautiful, beautiful swearing.
Technorati Tags: Deadwood