Well, That Was Awful

Earlier this year, I wrote about my disappointment in season 7 of "Dexter."  What had the writers done?  For six-plus seasons, we accepted Dexter Morgan (Michael C. Hall)--loved him, even--despite his somewhat substantial character flaws: extreme introversion, general social awkwardness, and his frequent tendency to wrap people up in plastic and kill them.  We accepted this murderousness because Dexter operated by a code--a code that called on him to channel his homicidal urges and to kill only those people who truly deserved it: primarily, murderers who had eluded the criminal justice system.  This code was unbreakable; indeed, at an earlier point in the series, Dexter, confronted with the decision of whether to kill an innocent in order to avoid arrest, seemed prepared to turn himself in rather than break the code.  At the end of the seventh season, though, all that seemed to go out the window, as Dexter prepared to kill his lieutenant--and then condoned (if not encouraged) her murder by his sister Deb--in order to escape justice.  The shark had been jumped.

Nevertheless, when I heard that this season of "Dexter"--the eighth--would mark the end of the series, I decided to tune in.  I had come this far.  I might as well see how the whole thing ends.  And I have to say, having just watched the series finale, that I wasn't disappointed: It was as bad as I thought it was going to be.

To get the spoilers out of the way: At the end of the series, Dexter fakes his own death in a hurricane and leaves Miami for what appears to be the Pacific Northwest.  He has traded in his police laboratory for a logging camp (?)--and gotten pretty paunchy, too, I must say--and the last image we have of Dexter Morgan is him sitting at a dining room table, staring vacantly into the camera.  I was expecting at least to hear a "Tonight's the night" in voiceover--a nice way of bringing the series full circle and assuring us that Dexter was at least back to his old, righteous serial killer ways--but we were denied even that.  Which is to say, I have no idea what the ending is supposed to mean.  Oh, and Deb (Jennifer Carpenter) is dead.  And Harrison (Jadon Wells), Dexter's son, has been sent off to Argentina to live with Hannah McKay (Yvonne Strahovski),  the beautiful serial poisoner that Dexter fell in love with in season seven.

Yeah.

The worst part of all this is that the writers had a perfectly good--or at any rate, infinitely better--way to end the series.  They set everything up so well in the middle of the season.  Dexter got himself a protégé, Zack Hamilton (Sam Underwood).  Zack struggled with the same murderous compulsions as Dexter, and Dexter was training Zack in "the code."  And Zack was doing well, too, chalking up his first kill of "one who got away."  How appropriate would it have been to end the series with Dexter passing the torch to the next generation?  Hell, if the writers were totally married to the idea of ending the show with "Yukon Dexter," they could have done that, too, but at least they could have left us with a better sense of where things go from here.  But no: Zack gets killed off about two-thirds of the way through season eight, so. . . . Yeah, I don't know.

So for anyone out there who has not yet watched "Dexter," here's the deal: Watch the first four seasons (masterpieces--especially season four with John Lithgow).  If you desperately feel the need to decompress, season five ("Lumen") is a fitting denouement.  But stop there: You'll only disappoint yourself if you go further.

Sharkjump Alert: "Dexter"

I just finished watching the most recent season of "Dexter" (season 7), and it pains me to report that this once-great show has officially and irreversibly jumped the shark.  For those of you who watch the show and have not yet caught up, you may want to skip today's spoiler-filled post.  Or read it: It will save you a lot of time and misplaced energy.

"Dexter" maintained exceptional quality for many seasons.  For years, we thrilled to the exploits of Dexter Morgan (Michael C. Hall), a seemingly mild-mannered blood-spatter analyst for Miami Metro Homicide, who lives a secret life as a serial killer.  What makes Dexter sympathetic, in addition to his acute intelligence and his compassion for friends and family, is the fact that he abides by a code: He preys only on those who deserve to die, mainly killers who have escaped justice.

The series itself improved year by year, reaching a high-point in season four, which featured John LIthgow as the "special guest killer," Trinity.  Lithgow was perfectly cast as the "Claudius" figure to Dexter's "Hamlet," in a storyline that revolved around Dexter's inability to decide whether or when to kill his antagonist.  The season ended with one of the great shock images in recent television history: Dexter's wife Rita (Julie Benz)--his "Ophelia"--dead in a blood-filled bathtub, Trinity's final victim.

That would have been a good place to end the series.  Season five, though, managed to maintain a fairly high-degree of quality.  The main storyline of that season featured Dexter helping Lumen Pierce (Julia Stiles) exact vengeance on a group of men who had raped and tortured her (as well as having killed several other women).  Dexter falls in love with Lumen, the first woman who accepts Dexter for what he truly is (Rita never having known about Dexter's murderous tendencies).  After finishing off the last of her tormentors, though, Lumen leaves Dexter, hoping to reclaim some semblance of her normal life.

Season six was relatively unremarkable, revolving around the hunt for a pair of religiously motivated psychopaths who see themselves as divine messengers.  Indeed, the entire point of season six, in retrospect, was simply to get us to the season's final moment: Dexter's adoptive sister, Deb (Jennifer Carpenter)--a lieutenant at Miami Metro--having resolved to tell Dexter of her feelings for him, walks in on Dexter just as he is putting the coup de grace to his latest victim.

How will he ever get out of this one?

Which brings us to season seven.  As the season begins, Dexter attempts to explain away what Deb has just seen him do.  "What me, serial killer?"  Thankfully, the writers remembered that Deb is not an idiot, so she quickly figures out what Dexter is.  She is torn between her love for Dexter (familial or otherwise) and her sworn duty to uphold the law.  Deb resolves, uneasily, to accept the fact that Dexter kills only the worst of the worst and to do her best to protect him accordingly.  So far, so good, but then things get complicated.

One of the strengths of "Dexter" has always been the focused nature of the storytelling.  Each of the preceding six seasons clearly revolves around one central storyline: Dexter and the Trinity killer, Dexter and Lumen, Dexter and the hunt for the Doomsday killers.  This season, though seemed to bounce among too many storylines: Dexter and Deb; Dexter and Isaak Sirko, a Ukrainian mobster seeking to avenge Dexter's murder of his (Isaak's) lover; Dexter and Hannah (Yvonne Strahovski), a beautiful serial killer with whom Dexter falls in love.  Additionally, this season featured a subplot wherein Dexter's and Deb's boss, Capt. Maria LaGuerta (Lauren Velez), discovers Dexter's secret.  While every season has featured an entertaining number of plotlines, the lack of a clear overall storyline for this season weakened the show tremendously.  And then came the finale.

In the final episode, Dexter realizes that LaGuerta has figured out not only the truth about him, but
also that Deb has been helping him.  What is to be done?  Well, Dexter decides he has no choice but to kill LaGuerta.

Look out, Shark!

Remember that the whole point of "Dexter"--the thing that makes Dexter Morgan sympathetic--is that he ONLY kills people who deserve it, primarily those who have gotten away with murder.  Even when he has broken from his code in the past, he has still generally killed criminals, if not always murderers.  For him to decide to kill someone who is not only innocent but who is, indeed, a police officer and a friend goes against everything we have come to expect from this character: The Dexter we know and love just wouldn't do that! He would run.

As if this weren't bad enough, here's how the season ends: Dexter lures LaGuerta to the Miami docks.  He plans to make her death look like the result of a shootout with a known criminal.  He drugs LaGuerta so that he can properly prepare the scene.  And then Deb shows up.  She pulls her gun on Dexter.  She tells him not to kill LaGuerta.  LaGuerta wakes up.  She implores Deb to shoot Dexter.  Dexter himself tells Deb it's OK: She's a good person, she SHOULD shoot him. AND THEN SHE SHOOTS LAGUERTA!!!!

Even if we accept that Dexter, an experienced killer, would choose--despite everything he believes in--to kill an innocent, there is NO WAY that Deb would shoot an unarmed, helpless woman.  None.  She would have shot Dexter first or, more likely, would have convinced him to run away with her. 

A cardinal rule of storytelling is that you shouldn't fuck with the basic nature of the main character.  ("Breaking Bad" is one of the few shows that successfully breaks that rule.  Then again, the whole plot of that show is ABOUT the central character's transformation.)  "Dexter" has now asked us to continue liking TWO main characters who have now compromised everything that made them likable.  That may be just too much to ask.

For Your Consideration

Feeling a bit writer's-blocked today, so let's talk actors.  The Emmy nominees for best actor in a drama series are Hugh Bonneville, Steve Buscemi, Bryan Cranston, Michael C. Hall, Jon Hamm, and Damian Lewis.

Bryan Cranston ("Breaking Bad") has become the "Mad Men" of the best-actor category: the default winner.  He's already won the award three times.  Unlike "Mad Men," though, the continued adulation of which--as I mentioned in an earlier post--somewhat mystifies me, Cranston deserves every accolade he receives.  He is the primary (though not sole) reason that "Breaking Bad" is the best show on television.  That being said, let's consider the other nominees.

Buscemi ("Boardwalk Empire"), Hall ("Dexter"), and Hamm ("Mad Men") are repeat nominees.  Of those three, Michael C. Hall is by far the most deserving.  Steve Buscemi is great as Nucky Thompson, but ultimately, any time you see Steve Buscemi. . . you see Steve Buscemi.  I don't mean this as a criticism: It's just that Buscemi has such a distinctive look/persona that it's hard for him to escape being him.  Jon Hamm faces almost the opposite problem in "Mad Men": Don Draper is essentially a void, a blank space.  And Jon Hamm fills that space with his all-too-typical good looks and coolness. There's really no "there" there.  Michael C. Hall, though, carries "Dexter" to at least the same extent that Bryan Cranston carries "Breaking Bad."  And his portrayal of an "ethical" serial-killer--who must constantly play various roles himself--is more than worthy of an Emmy.

Then there are the two newcomers.  Damian Lewis is great in "Homeland" but ultimately overshadowed by Claire Danes (about whom I imagine we'll talk in a future installment).  I've never seen "Downton Abbey," so I can't speak to Hugh Bonneville in that show.  He is, however, hilarious in "Twenty Twelve," an "Office"-type sitcom that focuses on the members of the Olympic Deliverance Committee, responsible for bringing the Games to London.

And then there is the glaring omission in this year's nominations: Hugh Laurie.  True, this final season of "House" was far from the best, but it was the final season.  The character of Dr. Gregory House is iconic, and it would seem only right that Hugh Laurie be given at least a chance to finally win an Emmy for his performance.  I think the Emmy voters got confused: They gave the obligatory "Brit-Who-Does-an-Annoyingly-Perfect-American-Accent" spot to Damian Lewis and the "Brit-Named-Hugh" spot to Bonneville.  Someone should really point out their mistake.

Last Night Was the Night

Today, despite our raucous celebration of National Punctuation Day (has it been a year already) (and check out that punctuation!), we want to talk about "Dexter."


We just finished watching season 4 on DVD, and we have a minor quibble.

MASSIVE SPOILER ALERT!!! If, like the Solipsist, you are a fan of the show, but (also like the Solipsist) you watch the show on DVD and have not yet seen season 4, and you do not want to know what happens at the end STOP READING IMMEDIATELY!

YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!!!!





OK, everybody gone?



We actually heard about the death of Rita before we saw the season finale. While we felt suitably distressed (and more than a little irritated) upon hearing this, we didn't know exactly how she would meet her end. We figured she would fall victim to Trinity, and, of course, we were right, but we're kind of annoyed by what most people will probably consider a minor detail.

Trinity, of course, was Dexter's nemesis this season, and his nom de killing came from the fact that he would always kill in threes (well, really "fours," but of course we don't find that out 'til later): First, he kills a young, single woman in a bathtub by slashing her femoral artery; next, a mother is coerced into jumping off a building; finally, a middle-aged father is bludgeoned to death. Rita is killed in a bathtub, but, being the slightly older mother of two, she should have fallen from a great height.

Now, we know what you will say (especially if you've seen the show): Trinity killed Rita to get back at Dexter. She wasn't so much a part of his pattern as a "one-off." Plus, killing her in the bathtub allowed for the striking and symbolically charged image of Dexter and Rita's baby crying in a pool of blood. We get that. Our complaint is not that this ending "doesn't make sense" so much as that the writers could easily have orchestrated the ending so that Rita's death did fit into Trinity's pattern. All they would have had to do is have him kill a random single woman in some episode before the finale. Then, Rita could have "taken her proper place"--the mother--in the chain of Trinity's process. Same shock effect, and more narrative satisfaction.

Yes, we're spending a lot of time and energy on what seems like a minor point--what is a minor point. But with a show as meticulously crafted and plotted as "Dexter," any little slip has a greater niggle-factor. The closer a work of art comes to perfection, the more any imperfections stand out.

Tonight's the Night

Some Sloppists already follow this show fanatically, but, for anyone who does not, we would like to highly recommend the Showtime series "Dexter."

Based on a series of novels by Jeff Lindsay, "Dexter" revolves around Dexter Morgan (Michael C. Hall), one hell of a nice guy who works as a blood spatter (forensic) analyst for the Miami Metro Police Department. Dexter also happens to be a prolific serial killer. In his defense, though, he follows a code taught to him by his adoptive father, a policeman named Harry (James Remar): He only kills people who really really really deserve to die: murderers who have beaten the system and are likely to kill again.

Michael C. Hall is perfect in the title role. It's not an easy part. Dexter is both charming and cold-blooded, but he's no Hannibal Lecter: He takes no pride in his nature, frequently referring to himself as a "monster" but unable to do anything about his "dark passenger." (A major plotline of the second season involved Dexter's participation in a 12-step program where he sought to "beat" his addiction.) What makes Hall's performance especially fascinating is the many roles he has to play as Dexter: mild-mannered analyst, passionate killer, somewhat clueless and socially inept boyfriend to the long-suffering Rita (Julie Benz), as well as numerous improvised identities that Dexter snaps into when stalking his prey.

But what makes the show soar is the writing. Each season (the Solipsist just finished watching season 3 on DVD) is essentially a 13-episode novel for television. The plots are intricate and, most important, thoroughly unpredictable. This is not just because of plot twists--of which there are many. It should be noted, though, that the show has never had an "unearned" plot twist: The kind of seemingly random occurrence that makes one roll one's eyes at the apparent desperation of a writing staff; all of "Dexter"'s twists and turns seem pleasingly logical even in retrospect.

But again, it's not the plot twists that make the show unpredictable. The unpredictability arises because of the nature of this show and its lead character: We don't know how the story is going to end because, frankly, we're never 100% sure what the "right" ending should be.

To digress for a moment: One of our favorite action movies is "In the Line of Fire," wherein Clint Eastwood plays a Secret Service agent trying to prevent a presidential assassination. Now, because it's Clint Eastwood, we assume that he will succeed. The catch, though, and the thing that makes the movie exciting, is that "success" in this case could very well mean Eastwood's death--as long as he dies saving the President. In other words, the audience doesn't know what constitutes a "good" ending.

Such is the case in "Dexter." Sure, we want him to succeed. At the same time, though, Dexter's antagonists are often perfectly decent people--Detective Sergeant James Doakes (Erik King), for example, the one cop who suspects Dexter Morgan is not as decent as he seems. Even Dexter's sister, police officer Debra Morgan (Jennifer Carpenter), is often a potential roadblock for our hero. So we don't want them to succeed, but it's hard to root against them, too. In the most recent season, Jimmy Smits portrays Miguel Prado, an Assistant District Attorney who befriends Dexter. Without going into too much detail--no spoilers here--suffice to say there were several points in the season where we had absolutely NO IDEA where the story was going to go. Such feelings are all too rare when viewing popular entertainment.

Seasons 1-3 are available on DVD. Season 4 is about to start. We don't get Showtime, but we've already placed Season 4 on our Netflix queue. We strongly recommend that you Sloppists do the same.