The Deuce Leaves 1970s New York Wide Open to Rich Character Study
Hey guys! As an avid fan of The Wire and some of David Simon’s other work, I can’t begin to describe how much of a thrill it is to finally be at the forefront of one of Simon’s new television series. I hope that school and work won’t keep me from staying on top of this show on a weekly basis, so I will do what I can to cover The Deuce after the conclusion of each new episode. Hopefully, this will be a fun and exciting venture for both me as a writer and all of you guys as readers!
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SPOILERS FOLLOW!!!!!!!!
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Here in America, sex sells. It’s everywhere, from television sets and mobile devices to click bait ads and highway billboards. We, as human beings, are so prone to it as an avenue of enjoyment that for some it has emerged as a profitable lifestyle, an essential element of survival and steady income. In The Deuce, David Simon’s latest look at the Dickensian Aspect of human society, that avenue has only just begun to consume the masses.
Set in the unrestrained trappings of 1971 Times Square, The Deuce opens its telling story with a corpulent cast of characters who are all working to stay afloat with the changing times. For some, like James Franco’s double-take in the form of twin brothers Frankie and Vincent Martino, that involves dodging lifelong debts with shady individuals and making an honest living amidst the descent of a family in shambles. For others, like Maggie Gyllenhaal’s Eileen “Candy” Merrell and Dominique Fishback’s Darlene, they’re faced with making enough cash to provide for one’s kindred son or searching for purpose behind the tint of a Jack Conway movie.
In-between the various bits of pertinent character exposition such as these are the sprawling moments of dialogue where The Deuce assures that the disco-laden background is little more than window-dressing. Don’t get me wrong, here: there is much, much personality injected into both the direction and cinematography in the pilot episode. The Deuce’s bread and butter, however, is its power to speak volumes in its character moments.
Following the funky, colorful intro (a huge “Yes!” moment for fans of The Wire’s classic minute-long opening sequences, I’m sure), we are instantly treated to an abundance of them. For example: Gary Carr’s C.C. steals the show right away with his pinstriped suit and womanizing inducement. That power he holds over unsuspecting Minnesotan Lori (Emily Leade) segues into a potent diner scene where we are introduced to the rest of C.C.’s “employees”. Both scenes are practically an endowment of the show’s current sex climate, from the immediate stripping of Lori’s innocence, to the whisked away passion illustrated deep within the pupils of Ashley’s eyes. The firm grasp that a man in C.C.’s position over the pliable hearts of his ladies of the night is ever-present, and is a shadowy feeling that carries over into the work presented by his other colleagues like Gbenga Akinnagbe’s Larry Brown and Method Man’s Rodney.
It helps that The Deuce is so well-casted and acted - I’ve seen this pilot twice, and could not for the life of me pick out a single negative exception - but the show’s marriage of actor and script help transcend its dizzying array of character beats. The pimps run their half of Times Square not only because they’re resourceful and good with singling out women with daddy issues; they have a necessary rapport with the beat cops, which is decorated beautifully in one of the episode’s most grounded, “1970s era New York” moments. Maggie Gyllenhaal predictably runs away with her material, dishing out tough love to a lucky teen on his birthday in one scene and looking worn out over voice messages and excursions from the night before in another; she’s easily the most compelling individual to watch here.
Other well done interactions and dynamics involve Abigail’s (Margarita Levieva) brief run-in with Officer Flanagan, and Vincent’s withdrawal from his disloyal wife and her mob-ridden family. Both their arcs take off as the episode thrusts them into separate bursts of enlightenment, and it’s impossible not to assume that a major seed has been planted with Abby shoo-ing off Flanagan to chat it up with Vincent a little while longer. That scene in particular is one of the few instances in The Deuce where the wheels are spinning towards something bigger - the origins of Times Square’s porn industry boon, perhaps? - but the human interaction is so nuanced that the viewer could easily acknowledge that without the writing being on the wall.
The Deuce also seems confident that, in time, its community approach will become a discernible factor that helps it stand out amongst its peers, and the pilot does right by this level of ambition. There’s so much to consider when C.C. passes by Vincent in a quiet apartment hallway and acknowledges him by name, or when a cautiously eager Lori learns the tools of the sex business trade from Eileen on one of her first nights working corners. Worlds are bound to collide as the season goes on, and that’s made an exciting prospect by just how profound and matter-of-fact the show projects these engagements.
1970s Times Square has probably never looked or sounded both so beautiful and so ugly in a television series. Shot with the same level of gritty filtering that easily separated The Wire from just about everything else at the time, The Deuce is a cacophony of authentic atmosphere, careful lighting, immersive audio cues, and subtle visuals. This episode is one of the most faithful re-imaginings of any time period I’ve seen in a TV show, from C.C.’s tricked out Cadillac and the voluptuous outfits of the city’s prostitutes, to the lines of garbage on street corners and trails of marquees darting down for city blocks. Even the drowning state of blaring horns raging down Times Square is edited with a grin-inducing practicality. This elevates some scenes in ways that are difficult to describe, but I was consistently blown away by the level of accuracy on display here.
The Verdict:
Some of the greatest stories ever told take time before they truly take off, and although The Deuce still needs to prove itself in the coming weeks, I’m already sold after its markedly impressive debut. Covering dozens of characters, a multitude of story arcs and only a portion of a city that appears larger than life, The Deuce finds an immediate strength in being a character study heavily reliant on realism and careful observation from the viewer. Like its spirited, critically-acclaimed predecessor, it prefers to put its puzzle pieces together methodically, but understands the need to give enough substance and meaning to them for the experience to be worth revisiting. If Simon’s previous works are any indication, it’s going to take a while before we see the porn industry make a notable presence here - but if the build up is this good, this flavorful, I’m more than willing to sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.
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THE DEUCE - TV REVIEW: “PILOT”
RATING: 9.4
+ Performances
+ Script
+ Absolutely nails the time period from an aesthetic standpoint
+ Dripping with various themes, memorable interactions, and character development
