I
promised a review of House of Cards after
season 2 premiered and here’s my verdict: like Shakespeare's Richard III, House of Cards entices us with its lead
character's bad deeds, and then refuses to tell us how we should feel once
we've seen them, leaving me questioning my own opinion. I don't want to like
it, but a twisted part of me really does. It's not clear exactly why this bleak
series is so exhilarating and binge-worthy. Who isn’t binge-watching this?
Though "House of Cards" was introduced as the standard-bearer for
Netflix's approach to original programming, it's a show that ironically suffers
when binge-viewed in the way Netflix encourages. Watching it all in a quick
burst allowed me to gloss over some of the more contrived plot twists, but it's
not structured with cliffhangers that demanded me to jump straight to the next
episode (conversely, "Orange Is the New Black" worked incredibly well
as a binge show last year).
But
overall I was engaged in the show as a whole, and since I was binge-watching
there was no time to linger over any of the details, either the personal (Frank
and Claire’s dysfunctional relationship dynamics) or the political (what a
delight it was to watch him stumble in the debate). In the aftermath it wasn't
a bad show, but nor was it the instant classic it very clearly styled itself to
be, and the longer it went on, the emptier it felt.
I was
impressed by season two’s characterization and it’s better job of embracing the
absurdity of its dark universe, where only characters with no moral compass can
ever come out on top (Frank manipulates his colleagues, suggesting that he is a
man among boys, that they are the sheep and he the shepherd). The show can be overly dramatic, perhaps too neat and
simplified (especially for an immensely complicated place like Washington
D.C.), yet I had the pleasure of trying to figure out whom truly was calling
the shots (although, it became quite obvious quickly that Frank and Claire are
a manipulative power couple who even control the President of the United
States). So is Frank Underwood (Kevin Spacey) unstoppable? Frank and Claire
(Robin Wright) Underwood might as well be called the Undertakers for how
they're sometimes portrayed in House of Cards. A little less of a
tightly wound sense of impending kill shot from both of them might be a welcome
change. Who can’t agree with that?
Zoe Barnes’
(Kate Mara) tragic death is the one that’ll linger with me. It happened so
unexpectedly that I am only now just getting over the shock. But as soon as
Frank subsequently killed Zoe, Frank’s underhandedness and ability to evade
detection helped to make the relationship between him and Zoe more persuasive.
Also, the relationship itself hinged primarily on the question of where ethics
and morality are overtaken by ambition (which is about as probing a thought on
either subject as House of Cards ever put on-screen).
On a more
positive note, however, I felt that the respective ends of Freddy Hayes (Reg E.
Cathey) and Adam Galloway (Ben Daniels) felt more complete and satisfying than
the others (especially Zoe’s). Both ostensibly wound up as casualties in
Frank’s war with Tusk, intimating that proximity to the Underwoods is toxic, no
matter the circumstances of the relationship (it is as if the Underwoods are
the Bermuda Triangle, or even a black hole, making their threats disappear with
ease). While the characters had nominal value to the overall storyline, their
ends at least managed to feel significant in terms of illustrating the kind of
personal destruction wrought by Frank’s power grab.
At the end of it
all, I was not surprised that the final image is that of Frank who would wind
up looking the audience in the eye from behind the ultimate seat of power and
resolutely knocking his class ring (literally becoming The One Who Knocks) and
we are made to feel as though he’d earned the right (underhandedly or not) to
do so.
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