The Yellow King for life.

Have you ever vigorously defended someone or something, only to be supremely let down?  Maybe you’ve had a friend who had all the potential in the world – intelligence, pedigree, stunning good looks – only he/she turned out to be a perpetual disappointment?  Perhaps it was even bad enough to where you kept finding ways to spin these colossal disappointments into some sort of positive?

‘I know he shit the bed, but I’m telling you … it was to throw you off the scent. He’s about to blow your mind, just watch.’

It’s as if you offered up your professional integrity to get a friend a job, only that friend turned out to have the work ethic of You, Me & Dupree, pre seven different kinds of smoke part of the movie. Not a clydesdale.

https://vimeo.com/59121214

Now?  Now you just look like an asshole.  That’s me after season two of True Detective. I stuck up for that show all the way to the finale.  Suffering through those ridiculous final 90 minutes was just the final straw. To my friends who I’ve argued the merits of this show with over the last eight weeks, I can only apologize. I’m ashamed.

To properly understand my (and society’s, it would seem) astonishing level of let-down, we need to go back to the end of season one, when Marty Hart & Rust Cohle were wooing America’s collective heart with tales of time as a flat circle, Lonestar tin men & six-minute, one-camera, meth-fueled shots of glory:

Remember Monday’s after each episode last season?  Discussing all the bullshit conspiracy theories like the Four Horseman? The McConaissance? Carcosa? Reggie Ledoux? Marty Hart’s wife? Marty Hart’s affinity for sex with women who weren’t his wife?  Not having to read articles to explain what in the fuck had happened the night before?  It was maybe my favorite season of television since John Lithgow exploded my brain as the Trinity Killer on Dexter.

That brings us to when casting for season two started to leak, where my affection for the cast combined with the perfection of season one effectively turned me into the HBO version of the Star Wars fanboys who dress like Ewoks on Saturday nights.

Colin Farrell?  I don’t care that his IMDB reads like a Stephen King horror novel.  He’s Irish, loves to party, put out a sextape with this girl, and apparently skirted a murder charge by way of an ‘I was doing ecstasy’ alibi. He’s an inspiration, all-in.

Rachel McAdams?  You mean to tell me that Regina George signed on for an HBO show in which she’ll most likely kill someone and possibly get naked? Please, tell me more. All-in.

Vince Vaughn?  Trent? Playing his first bad guy since he was a creepy stepdad murderer opposite John Travolta in the Oscar-winning Domestic Disturbance? Our little baby is all growns up. All-in.

Then, as if my True Detective lady boner wasn’t already at may-need-to-call-a-doctor-if-it-doesn’t-go-down levels, they came with the MVP of this moviestar Mt. Rushmore: the immortal Tim Riggins.  You mean clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose Tim Riggins? You mean my best friend was just paralyzed in a freak accident, is in the hospital, yet I’m going to sleep with his girlfriend and still make you love my character Tim Riggins? Come on. Riggins is an angel. All-in.

just look at that face.

So this all brings us to season two, episode one, and what sadly turned out to be the best part of the show: the intro.

Remember when I mentioned talking yourself out of disappointment by focusing on tiny positives that in actuality really weren’t that positive?  That was me during the intro every Sunday night.  Given, it was usually after several beverages, but still. I was just lying to myself.  Just give whoever edited that thing his Emmy now.  He hoodwinked the entire country, every friggen week.

These are just some random thoughts, observations, and lingering questions I have, in no particular order.  Apologies if you’re not a fan of profuse profanity. In my defense, this show earned it.

• Four-way tie for my favorite part of the season:
  • Ray defending his kid from a bully while simultaneously calling him a ‘fat pussy’. Real talk, that’s just good parenting.
  • This emotional roller coaster of a scene
  • Ani taking molly that somehow turned into a PTSD peyote trip.  From what I’m told, not sure that’s how it works.
  • Ray deciding to go urban cowboy while trying to NOT be seen. Maybe my favorite part of the entire season. Literally laughed out loud during this scene, drawing looks of disapproval from all those watching with me.

    • 

      urban cowboy.

• Ray was from Southern California, right?  Why was he trying to earn the Christian Bale memorial award for worst accent in a drama? It also got progressively more gravely throughout the season, despite the fact he stopped drinking. Odd.
• Does Burris still have the blue diamonds?  Who the hell has the blue diamonds?
• Half of the season was centered around finding this hard drive, and now you tell us the hard drive was erased anyway?  Lazy.
• Speaking of the hard drive … we find out it was the brother that rocked the crow mask and only hit Ray with riot shells. Why wouldn’t he just kill him? He had just burned out a dude’s eyes with acid, and then shot his genitals off – but now he’s going to pack riot shells? Lazy.
• After spending half the season saying he doesn’t want to be a mobster, and only intimating at his past and never showing him carry anything larger than a pistol – our man Frank turns up with Rambo’s duffel bag? Then takes out the entire Russian mafia with the help of Ray and Ray’s man-bun (unrelated: GTFOH, every dude with a man bun)? Huh? Lazy.
• Speaking of Frank … you’re going to kill off one of our four main characters by bringing back the never-made-sense-anyway cartel storyline?  And when it looks like he’s going to get off with just a thirsty hike back to town, he refuses to give up his suit & THAT’S what gets him shanked in the ribs? Really? Lazy.
• While we’re still on Frank … was Jordan hot? I think you ask 10 people, you probably get a 50/50 split.  A quick Google image search brings up several convincing arguments for each side. I’m going no, if only because her face combined with the fact that she looks like she would stab you in your sleep gives me the heebie-jeebies.
• So, Ray’s finally found a reason to live in his equally damaged soulmate Ani. Yet, when he finds that someone has now placed a transponder on his car and could possibly thwart both of their escape plans, he spends all of five seconds trying to pop it off with his hand. Darn it, no luck. So he got his knife out, but decided ‘nah’. Then, on the phone with Ani, he claims he could lose his tail ‘with a tricycle’. Dope, I’m thinking. He’s motivated, he’s in his new Charger (product placement, yay), he’s got dough, so here comes the epic car chase, right? Nope. He drives it straight into the forest, because, you know … if you’re in a high speed car chase, the best thing to do is go PARK IN THE FUCKING FOREST AND HIDE BEHIND SOME TREES.  Turns out, it’s Blackwater or whoever they are that were written into episode seven because Pizzolatto ran out of ideas, and they’re armed to the teeth. But our hero Ray is game. For a minute, it looks like he might be the Vinci version of Django Unchained, but then he just inexplicably gives up.  At least let him go out in a blaze of glory.  Confusing all-around. Lazy.
• Speaking of Ray … did we really need that last kick to the dick of him being Chad’s real dad? Then the final Rosemary’s baby plot with him & Ani? So unnecessary.
• Totally random and unimportant, but assuming he doesn’t die and Ani’s sexual deviancy makes its way over to Jordan, Nails could be one lucky dude. Also – great mobster name, Nails. Good job by him.
• Finally, and most importantly, I’ve read every single recap / explanation / theory exposing article about this show that the internet has to offer, and nobody can answer this question: HOW IN THE FUCK DID BURRIS KNOW WHICH DOOR TO WAIT BEHIND TO SHOOT PAULY? HE WAS ESCAPING FROM A LABYRINTH OF UNDERGROUND CATACOMBS!!!!!!! RIP Riggins, you sweet, sweet man. This world didn’t deserve you.

True Detective season two can get all the way the fuck outta here. Can’t wait for season three.