Deadwood, suprisingly sound.

There are a number of TV series that I have enjoyed a great deal and that I have watched from end to end on many occasions. The BBC’s Elizabeth R, with Glenda Jackson (far more magisterial and impressive as Great Bess than she ever was during her peevish twenty-three years as an MP) and I Claudius are two that stand out, as is HBO’s Rome. It is Deadwood, however, that I’d like to lay before you, for me it is thirty-six hours of some of the most consummate television ever produced.

I could go on at length about the utterly gorgeous look of the work, the way characters evolve, learning from and being shaped by their experiences. There’s the wonderful portrayal of those characters, Brad Dourif’s Doc Cochrane stands out for me, as does Robin Weigart’s Calamity Jane but really the cast are all superb. Then there’s the script. You need to be quick, the speech can be swift and often more naturalistic than clear, but it can be sublime, often almost Shakespearean. I love the combination of sweeping story arc with little vignettes, the contrast of comedy and tragedy and the interplay of domestic detail with high drama.

“What about the swearing?” I hear you cry. Although linguistically some of the language used may not be 100% accurate to the 1870s West it does emphasise the outcast nature of these characters that swear a great deal and separate them from the more “civilised” folk like Alma Garret. Used as I am to a good deal of swearing, even I was so taken aback when I first heard Ian McShane’s Al Swearengen drop the C bomb that I swore myself. At the time over here in Blighty we were more familiar with McShane as the loveable, roguish antiques dealer Lovejoy in the solid Sunday evening comedy drama of the same name. I understand that some folk can’t get past the swearing, which is a shame, I feel it is part and parcel of the piece, underlining the flawed nature of the people portrayed.

It all feels right. The look and feel of the buildings and streets, the costumes, the language, lighting and especially, the often highly formal interactions between characters. Formality is something so often missing, or done badly, in period pieces. I don’t have enough knowledge of the 1870s West to judge accuracy, but it certainly seems authentic.

All of the show’s undoubted merits aside it was something else that prompted me to write this for the good folks at BW, the politics. As far as I know the folk that made Deadwood reflect the usual diversity of opinion among TV/Film makers, soft left/centrist to standard lefty to full on cultural Marxists. That said, I can’t help thinking maybe a stray right winger managed to sneak in somewhere. Of course, the show touches on racism, misogyny, immigration/assimilation, labour relations and the full cast of right on causes. However, it does touch on them, with a fine sable brush, it doesn’t smack at them with sledgehammer, as is the fashion of our times. In fact, if anything, it pays less attention to these things than the historical setting might justify and the common theme is dealing with people as individuals, not according to their membership of various groups.

The overarching theme is of the coalescing of a community and the spinning of order out of chaos, but the show does not come down solidly on the side of big government far from it. It shows very well the insidious Crony Capitalism relationship between big business and government personified by the gold tycoon George Hearst and Commissioner Hugo Jarry. In contrast, it positively glories in the hard work, self-reliance and entrepreneurialism of Sol Star and Seth Bullock as the build, literally from the ground up, their hardware store.

There are some excellent lines as well. In one episode, Cy Tolliver exemplifies the left’s racism of low expectations, using the “It’s not for me to judge their culture” line when challenged on the appalling treatment of Chinese prostitutes by an associate of his. In another Hearst’s geologist (and serial killer!), Francis Wolcott, expresses his distaste at Jarry’s pushy insensitivity with the memorable line “I am a sinner, who does not expect forgiveness, but I am not a government official!”. The impresario Jack Langrishe replies to a religious hypocrite “What claim has your piety on my deference?” A reply we might well use to adherents of an especially demanding faith today.

I’m pretty well attuned to leftist messaging in popular culture and I find it marvellously absent from Deadwood. Whether this is by design or not I don’t know. I have a hunch that the very nature of the story they’re telling resists the usual Marxist gloss. It’s a story of courageous pioneering, risk taking, self-reliance coupled with banding together to do what is necessary. It’s very much the story of the building of America, warts and all but magnificent in its grimy glory.