I Like to Watch
Would you rather be a depressed thief, a polygamist or a drunk slacker? The TV gods explore strange new microcosms in search of the next "Sopranos" -- or the next "Jackass."
By Heather Havrilesky
Read more: TV, Arts & Entertainment, Heather Havrilesky, I Like to Watch
Clockwise from top left: Bill Paxton, Ginnifer Goodwin, Jeanne Tripplehorn and Chloe Sevigny of "Big Love"
March 5, 2006 | When I was little, I had a book by Richard Scarry called "What Do People Do All Day," which was sort of an Econ 101 textbook for young kids. It introduced us to Busytown, where all kinds of different animals had different jobs: There were little dog cops and cat businessmen and pig firemen and goat farmers and rabbit tailors and a fox blacksmith, and all of the little animals really seemed to enjoy their careers. When you read the book, you felt like the world was filled with satisfied little workers, savoring their jobs, contributing to the good of the community, and bringing home lots of silver coins to spend on eggbeater earrings for their wives, or toy tractors for their kids.
Of course, as we get older, we learn that reality is a far cry from Busytown. Whether we grow up and move away to Lazytown or Grumpytown or Sleazytown, instead of happy little dog cabbies and polite piggy butchers, we encounter sullen bankers and angry waitresses and depressed customer service representatives, doing their tedious jobs with all of the raw enthusiasm and thoughtful effort of root vegetables. And even when the radish project manager and the turnip marketing associate at the office exchange terse words about the upcoming presentation, and the rutabaga accounts manager takes the afternoon off to place illegal bets, life in Dumpytown isn't nearly as interesting as life in Busytown once seemed.
Nonetheless, lately the TV camera has been scanning the Lumpytowns and Chumpytowns of the U.S. for characters the audience at home hasn't encountered before. While just five or six years ago, the Busytown of TV dramas featured only dog cops, cat lawyers, and murdering goats, these days, TV producers and writers are branching out, trying to dig up newer, stranger, more interesting lives that are less predictable to viewers. Whether it's bail bondsmen, plastic surgeons, fashion designers, undertakers or the mob, our interest in life outside of the police departments and courthouses has become more apparent than ever. But can it ever be as interesting as goat farmers' wives wearing eggbeater earrings?
Marry two, get one free
If HBO's "Big Love" is any indication, it can be. In fact, there are elements of this new series that have a quirkiness that might seem deliberate or overly clever against a different backdrop, but that feels natural in its own gracefully odd environment.
From the first scene, strangely enough, it's these little things that grab our attention: Our eyes are drawn to the terrible bedroom set, the flocked pattern on the comforter, the odd hairstyle that Chloë Sevigny is wearing, the shabby dirt backyard scattered with plastic toys. Immediately we know that this is a world we've never seen on TV before, a world we may have glimpsed when visiting our friend's house as a kid, or that we might have spotted in the background on an episode of "Wife Swap." It's not the generic Pottery Barn interior of every home on TV, it's not the shiny suburban world of "Desperate Housewives." It's not even a direct replica of what the show's set designer found when she drove out to Salt Lake City to look around a few of the locals' houses. Matching every element would look too clever, too obvious.
The casual oddness of the environment throws us off just enough to give these characters a clean slate. These are people we've never met before -- not Hollywood versions of people we've never met before, but actual human beings that are unfamiliar from head to toe. Although most are well-known actors -- Bill Paxton, Jeanne Tripplehorn, Chloë Sevigny -- they share the same empty, bland good looks. No one looks gorgeous or -- worse yet -- like a gorgeous Hollywood version of a Mormon wife with an odd hairstyle. And that's good, because a gorgeous Hollywood version of a polygamist family is about as believable as a pig in a tutu and ballet slippers. This isn't a Richard Scarry book, after all, and a cute cartoon version of polygamy would never hold our interest.
Instead, the creators of "Big Love" (premieres 10 p.m. Sunday, March 12) tread a delicate line between inviting us to point and gawk at the weirdo with his three wives, and providing that weirdo with just enough dignity, humor and humility to win us over. It's not as easy as it sounds, arguably an even more onerous task than making an audience love mob boss Tony of "The Sopranos" or corrupt cop Vic Mackey of "The Shield." Bill Henrickson (played by Bill Paxton) isn't entrenched in a livelihood that requires him to maintain three wives in three different houses, all sharing an adjoining backyard; that's just how he chooses to live. The three wives aren't pushovers, but they all treat their situation as the most natural thing in the world, even when they get jealous or annoyed with the other wives.
Next page: Husband of three: Alternately thrilled and exhausted
