When you're strange

"Deadwood" creator David Milch's new drama, "John From Cincinnati," packs world-weary oddballs, unlikely saviors and acts of God into the story of a washed-up surfer.

By Heather Havrilesky

Read more: HBO, TV, Arts & Entertainment, Reviews, Heather Havrilesky

Photo © John P. Johnson

Bruce Greenwood and Rebecca De Mornay in "John From Cincinnati."

June 10, 2007 | Nothing short of a miracle could breathe new hope into the kinds of outcasts, failures and delinquents that "Deadwood" creator David Milch favors, so what did he do? He populated his new drama, "John From Cincinnati," with loads of crusty old coots and hopeless losers, threw in a hefty helping of unexplained phenomena and divine interventions, and then sat back and enjoyed the resulting chaos.

Not content to tell simple stories, Milch prefers complicated microcosms: small communities of characters who, despite their hardened exteriors and rude demeanors, still nurture undying hopes and sweet, stubborn affections. From "Hill Street Blues" to "NYPD Blue," Milch has shown a knack for whipping up the sorts of bitter clashes and unlikely alliances that slowly but surely take on a life of their own. Just as he guided the forces of "Deadwood" to an electric state of expectancy, spurred on by a whole town full of thwarted dreams and secret longings and festering injuries, so does he bring his eccentric touch and sympathetic eye to Imperial Beach, a sleepy California beach town on the Mexican border.

In collaboration with surf novelist Kem Nunn, Milch tells the story of Mitch Yost (Bruce Greenwood), a former surfing legend who's been angry at the world ever since he suffered a career-ending knee injury. But then, most of the characters in HBO's "John From Cincinnati" (premieres at 10 p.m. on Sunday, June 10) are full of blame: Mitch blames the commercialization of surfing and the promoters who poison those waters, but he also blames his wife and his junkie son and anyone else within spitting distance. Mitch's wife, Cissy (Rebecca De Mornay), seems to wear years of disappointment on her face, perfectly embodying the former California beauty whose life has somehow swerved off-course unexpectedly, forcing her to lower her expectations. Their son, Butchie (Brian Van Holt), is a heroin addict who's effortlessly charming but tremendously selfish, leaving his son, Shaun, in his parents' hands while he wiles away his days at a ramshackle hotel by the sea, shooting up. Shaun (Greyson Fletcher) shows all of the Yost surfing talent with none of the smoldering anger and regrets, but Mitch worries that the surfing circuit will spoil Shaun's innocence and rob him of his ability to enjoy his gift.

Naturally, the Yost family is just the tip of the irascible iceberg, surrounded by a surly assortment of misfits, from Bill (Ed O'Neill), a former cop who's aged into a lonely, housebound bird lover that no one seems to take seriously, to Barry (Matt Winston), a nerdy, emotionally unstable lottery winner who was bullied by Butchie back in school. "Deadwood" fans will recognize Jim Beaver (who played Ellsworth) as Joe, a Vietnam vet who's been reduced to peddling live sex shows, and Garret Dillahunt (who played Francis Wolcott) as a local doctor. On top of that, there's Dayton Callie (who played Charlie Utter) as Butchie's longtime dealer, a guy who, despite his violent outbursts and brutal tactics, seems to see himself as Butchie's guardian angel. Yes, leave it to David Milch to lean into the inherent contradictions of a heroin dealer with relentless protective urges toward his junkie client.

Onto this emotionally scorched landscape enters John, a simpleton with supernatural powers. John informs anyone who'll listen that "The end is near," but otherwise seems to repeat what other people say, mimicking their tone and gestures. Around the time of John's arrival, strange and miraculous events transpire, events that we hope are powerful enough to cheer up this petulant crowd. John doesn't seem clued in to any of it, though, telling us "Some things I know and some things I don't."

Which seems to be the point, as far as Milch is concerned. When asked by late-night host Craig Ferguson what "John From Cincinnati" was about, Milch told him, "If God were trying to reach out to us, and if he felt a certain urgency about it? That's what it's about."

Next page: Milch's Midas touch