Emmy Nominations for Treme

Sounding the Award Knell for Treme and Steve Earle who was nominated for Outstanding Original Music and Lyrics. The odds look good for Mr. Earle. The competition is underwhelming with various tunes from Family Guy, Monk, How I Met Your Mother, Rescue Me, and SNL.

The game is more closely contested in Treme's other nomination category: Outstanding Directing. Treme's premier episode, under the direction of Agnieszka Holland, was picked but is up against some formidable and quality dramatic rivals in Mad Men, Dexter, Breaking Bad. Oh, yes, Ms. Holland's work also goes up against the final episode of Lost.

It was a disappointment to see the women of Treme get passed over for Emmy nominations. I expected to see at least Khandi Alexander's name on that list. Kim Dickens and Melissa Leo (when she was allowed to do something other than Superlawyer heroics) also deserved to be nominated. Treme is certainly a women's world. But the Emmys are not of David Simon's so I suppose two nominations is a success.

Treme: A Sixty Second Chat with a Pine Leaf Boy

Caught the Grammy-nominated Pine Leaf Boys at Connelly's this 4th of July week-end. Despite common perception, there are people in NYC in July, and most of them were cajun jitterbugging at the Klub 45 room.

I asked Jon Bertrand, guitarist for the PLB pictured here on the left at the Breaux Bridge Crawfish Festival, what it was like filming Treme. "Even though we were on screen for a split-second, I get recognized on the street," he laughed. On a more serious note, he added: "Many musicians from NOLA and the Cajun part of the state DON'T have day jobs and the local people don't realize it."

A little dose of reality perhaps, but not yet. No work talk now; it's the holiday week-end. Happy Love and Rockets this Fourth of July.

Photo by cajunzydecophotos: The Pine Leaf Boys film a scene for the HBO Series "Treme" at the Breaux Bridge Crawfish Festival, April 30, 1010: shown are Jon Bertrand (guitar), Thomas David (bass), Wilson Savoy (accordion), Drew Simon (not show, drums and vocals), Lucia Micarelli as Annie (violin) and Courtney Granger (fiddle).

7/6/10: Thank you to Jon Bertrand for contacting me with a follow-up on the above quote. It needed correction. I do want to be the blog of record.

A Big Thanks to Watching Treme

The blog Watching Treme, under the guidance of Venetian Blond (I wish I had thought of that moniker), passed on the Versatile Blogger Title to the humble Death Knell.

With the title comes much responsibility. I will begin to work on that in a moment, procrastination getting in the way of a good death knell always, but first I'd like to thank you, VB. See you in NOLA perhaps. It will be my first visit too.

Treme: I'll Fly Away...and Be Back Again Some Day

"Still here. One day after the next."

David Simon and Eric Overmyer’s first season of Treme was marked by high expectations - the expectations of devoted Wire fans, the expectations of New Orleanians anxious to see the recovery to Katrina’s heartbreaking devastation accurately portrayed, and the expectations of music lovers to see, finally, a television show successfully harmonize story and song. Glee notwithstanding.

I asked actor Sean Gormley about his own expectations in going to New Orleans and making what is now an iconic Treme scene between outspoken NOLA resident Creighton Bernette and the BBC reporter. Looking back on the past ten episodes, it is this standoff that epitomizes the whole series so far, a situation that motivated New Orleans viewers of the season preview to stand up and cheer. The reporter challenges the frazzled Bernette as to what exactly is worth saving in rebuilding New Orleans, voicing many Americans opinions, from the outside looking in, about why poverty-stricken neighborhoods like the Ninth Ward should be rescued and rebuilt.

The scene is at the one minute mark of HBO's "Making Treme:"

Sean did not have many assumptions coming into the filming:

“I expected it not to be too big a deal, just me interviewing some local guy - a small scene that perhaps would not even make the final cut, and if it did, that I wouldn't be shown much. It was only during my costume fitting that I learned my scene partner was John Goodman.“

This was a return trip to New Orleans for the Dublin-born actor who first went there as part of "The Commitments" band. I asked him how New Orleans appeared post-Katrina:

“We shot our scene by a canal in the lower ninth ward. The drive from the hotel to the set was the real eye-opener for me as we drove past the area that was one of the worst hit by the storm. You could see the water marks high up on now-abandoned houses. As many of the drivers and crew were locals, I got first-hand accounts of what they had been through.” (more of the interview can be found here)

A dramatic first-hand account of recovery is what Simon and Overmyer undertook this first season of Treme which wrapped up last night with "I'll Fly Away," directed by Agnieszka Holland who also directed the first episode. The season is bookended by second line funeral parades, this time a tribute to Ladonna's brother Daymo, another casualty of Katrina, much like New Orleans itself. As for Daymo's death, as Creighton says, it wasn't the hurricane, "it was a man-made catastrophe."

Daymo, possibly a homicide victim, wasn't the only a man-made catastrophe. Creighton himself was one as well. Suicide is not painless when viewed through the family's eyes, and there was not a scene with Melissa Leo as Creighton's wife Toni that did not invoke an audience resentment toward the professor for his selfishness. He did quit. There may be lots of anecdotal evidence for this storyline, however it doesn't make his family's grief any easier to watch.

As Joe Strummer said in his upended version of "Stagger Lee" via The Rulers, an admonishment to Creighton's despair:

"you must start all over again-all over again

don't you know it is wrong

You got to play it, Billy, play,

don't you know it is wrong

you got to play it, Billy, play

And you will find it is the right 'em boyo"

So many Stagger Lees. So little time.

Steve Zahn as Davis McAlary developed nicely throughout the season from one-dimensional obnoxiousness to redeeming moments of charm, but, boy, did he recover quickly from Janette's departure despite all his best efforts to show Janette all the reasons why she shouldn't leave New Orleans. It was a day that began with John Boutte and ended in the Columns Hotel where Pretty Baby was filmed. I was convinced, but Janette ultimately wasn't.

On second thought, Davis' resiliency, his ability to shrug off such a setback, is his charm. Exit Janette. Enter Annie. It is a parallel and contrast to the immobility of Creighton: "you must start all over again." Davis starts all over again every day.

Lucia Micarelli as Annie evolved too: a parallel journey to where her character's music leads. From Sonny to Steve Earle is a fantastic voyage. Might we see Lucinda Williams next season?

The ending flashback to the onslaught of Katrina counterbalanced an episode that wildly veered from cliche to cliche: Antoine losing his gig money in a poker game to a woman no less; do-gooder Texan, Mr. Reyes, fixes Ladonna's roof forcing Reilly to do the right thing; Lt. Colson wants Sofia Bernette to be "able to believe" that Creighton's death was an accident. Thank goodness this scene was in the hands of David Morse. One of the highlights of the episode, of the series, was acting greats Melissa Leo and Morse at Creighton's abandoned car.

Sonny has voiced some surprising self-awareness in the last couple of episodes: "you're so much better than me, as a player, and now you're leaving me behind." As a musician, this is as painful a truth as could be faced. Sonny had one of the most effective, quiet codas of the night - watching a taxi go by, sitting on the darkened street - a motif for the loss of Annie. Like Toni learns: "the truth doesn't set you free, it's just another burden that you have to bear."

The St. Joseph's Day meeting of the Indian Chiefs was magnificent. Or at least I thought it might have been. Shot by flashlight, this scene was murky with glints of brilliance and sequin. The gangs worked so hard on their outfits; I wished we could have appreciated them more in full daylight. There was one positive, a cliche avoided: the punch-up between the Indians and the police.

Have to go, there's "always more to do to be most pretty." Until season two, here are some items up for discussion:

How vacuous was the "Hi, I'm Paige" scene? Even the "nice tats" comment did not redeem that mess. As an addendum, the season started with Steve Zahn's naked rear and ends with Michiel Huisman's. A backend bookend?

Wendell Pierce as Antoine was consistently splendid, holding his own with a myriad of musical meta-stars.

Love the flashback to Janette back in Huntsville, actress Kim Dickens' real birthplace: Janette looks so much like her actress mother. Janette and Delmond sat next to each, waiting for their plane, heading to New York, an appealing moment. Now if only Jacques had come and sat down between them. That would have made for a perfect scene: chef and sous chef. Together, into the sunset.

And speaking of New York, was Treme at all for us New Yorkers? or Chicagoans? Or any of the other of the U.S.'s great cities? Or its great open spaces? If we can't truly appreciate what New Orleans went through, can we still enjoy a television series devoted to and written for the Crescent City? Musical and cultural learning curves were steep! But I did recognize Trombone Shorty without a prompt, so I am getting there, thank you Mr. Simon.

How wrong was I about Creighton's demise? Didn't think it would really happen. But then again, I thought Omar wasn't really dead either. Creighton's suicide made my Spalding Gray analogy that much more, unfortunately, spot on. Maybe the Moviegoer did Creighton in.

Was post-Katrina New Orleans conveyed more starkly, more effectively in Spike Lee's devastating When the Levees Broke? Perhaps, but I would argue the two works are complementary. An introduction to the culture of the Indians was certainly an asset to Treme.

Season one: It was a great start with a beautiful, vérité ending. Season Two? You must start all over again.

One more thing: we do take naps in New York. Wake me up in time for dinner.

Originally published on blogcritics.org

Treme: Wish Someone Would Care

“Hi, my name is Davis. Will you come to my party?”

Dear writers of Sunday’s Treme episode, "Wish Someone Would Care," thanks to you, I had to dig up all my old college notes on Kate Chopin. After rereading and reflecting, I regret to inform that Ms. Chopin’s heroines are still coming to bitter ends despite what Professor Creighton Bernette proclaims. Now I’m late filing this review AND I’m depressed. Just like Creighton’s student.

David Simon and George Pelecanos finally put Creighton Bernette into an appropriate forum for his speechifying - at work in front of the classroom! Here, as a teacher, Creighton gets to listen to cliches (“will this be on the test?”) and spout them (“Edna’s journey...she’s looking for truth.”) It was a relief to see Creighton doing something constructive, but the relief was short-lived. He assigns his class The Awakening, Louisiana native Kate Chopin's most famous novel. Chopin's main character, the unhappy Edna Pontellier, hovers over the episode, an episode framed by water, a story darkened so only the lights of the Abita Beer sign illuminate.

Edna serves as temptation for Creighton to succumb to his depression. It is a wonderfully ironic moment for the professor to dismiss his student’s depressed reaction to The Awakening (a perfectly justified reaction, by the way) when he too is despondent over the fate of his beloved New Orleans.

Depression, or variations on its theme: post-traumatic stress syndrome and post-Mardi Gras disorder, is a poignant motif for Treme’s penultimate episode, the ninth in a ten episode season, exceptionally short even in the contemporary truncated television schedule. In a discussion on Chopin themes, I would also pile on earlier work, e.g. a short story which appeared in Vogue magazine, 1893, called "The Father of Desiree’s Baby" or now it is simply "Desiree’s Baby." No relation to Antoine's girlfriend, Desiree, (or is it?)

On its surface, the story is a potboiler with a nifty little twist at the end, but underneath, it deals succinctly and effectively with issues of feminism and race relations. The Awakening may speak to Creighton, to his students’ bewilderment (or was that simply boredom?), but "Desiree’s Baby" supports Toni’s reproof to Creighton about his tolerance for the pointy hoods of the Night Parade: “That’s because you’re not from here. When you grow up with it, it has a whole other meaning.” That meaning is what causes the tension between Big Chief Albert and Lt. Colson in later scenes.

Edna’s dash for freedom from her 19th century conventional marriage is also manifested in characters other than Creighton. Thankfully, Annie makes a break for it, (and to the writers' credit, simple and unlikable Sonny becomes suddenly human and likable - suddenly Sonny); like Edna, Annie does not have a full grasp of her societal boundaries. In Annie’s case, her society consists of musicians and their cultural codes. She innocently thinks that asking Sonny for a musical separation will have no impact on their romantic relationship. Sax-playing Aurora Nealand, who has a temporary sofa for Annie to sleep on, sets her straight: Sonny has a point; a stupid one, but it’s still a point. If Annie and Sonny don't play music together, they aren’t together.

Janette, too, thinks of finding some release: a release right out of the city. She finds herself once again at the mercy of severe weather, discovering there are limits to the guerilla chef gigs. Later, Davis argues for Janette to stay put: ("there are just so many beautiful moments...”) Janette walking away in the pouring rain, her Bacchanal gig ruined, is one of them. The camera shot is gorgeous in its stark misery. I wonder if the writers had a Chopinesque despair in mind as our heroine, Janette, walks away into the water.

It is a beautiful moment but it’s not a life, as Janette points out. Edna rejects her 19th century Louisiana life; Janette rejects her 21st century one. As an old English major, I’m a sucker for these motifs.

In other storylines, there is a gravitas showdown between Clarke Peters as Chief Albert and David Morse as Lt. Colson: a leader of one gang (the police) warns the leader of another gang (the Indians) to keep things cool. Imagine someone calling David Morse "son." We take Colson’s word for it that there has been tensions between the Indians and the police on St. Joseph’s Day. This is not common knowledge outside Louisiana, like so much on Treme, research, research, research is needed. For more on St. Joseph's night and especially the strain between the Indians and the NOPD, please check out this New Yorker article.


Ladonna, now that she has found her brother, struggles with what to do with his body. Toni argues for an autopsy. The family vault has been badly damaged by Katrina. Antoine offers to help financially, keeping that old romantic story strong.

Davis can’t hear someone knocking because he’s playing “I Hear You Knocking” too loudly. Davis can't hear anyone knocking at any time in any format.

The episode ends as it begins - on the water: Edna Pontellier’s watery grave. Is it Creighton’s too? “I believe I will fulfill my obligations for today,” he remarks to a student. For today, what about after today? I’ve avoided spoilers and trailers for the next episode, so I don’t know (but I doubt) if Creighton really throws himself off the ferry. As loving as his goodbyes were to his family and as fervently he argued for the positives in Edna’s suicide, Creighton may be back on Sunday for the season finale. So far this series has not been the “kill off the main character” sort.

The whole ferry scene was very difficult to watch, the most distressing event of the series so far (even if it is a non-event and Goodman returns) because it is so reminiscent of the Spalding Gray suicide. It’s not just in the manner of superficial resemblance; the brilliant monologuist threw himself off the Staten Island Ferry after years of depression, Creighton could possibly be viewing suicide as Gray may have, as Edna did: a work of art.


British journalist Gaby Wood, in a portrait of Spalding Gray, interviewed noted neurologist Oliver Sacks about his treatment of Gray’s depression. Wood theorizes: “It's possible that,

rather than simply having come to the end of what he had to say, Gray saw the taking of his own life as part of what he had to say. 'On several occasions he talked about what he called "a creative suicide",' Sacks tells me. 'On one occasion, when he was being interviewed, he thought that the interview might be culminated with a "dramatic and creative suicide." I was at pains to say that he would be much more creative alive than dead.'”

In other words, Creighton, you certainly can't finish that book if you're dead.

The thought of suicide as “dramatic and creative,” as an alternative to the book Creighton is working on or pretending to work on, is the real theme of "Wish Someone Would Care.” The trouble with that title, or actually the exquisite irony of the title, is that people do care, Toni and Sofia, Spalding Gray’s wife and children, and many, many fans, but the caring is not enough. I don’t know if this parallel was intentional by the writers, but if it was or wasn’t, it is still brilliant. Did I mention what Oliver Sacks is perhaps best known for? His book Awakenings.

I have to go, I have a four hour lunch to attend, but before I go, here are some other items up for discussion:

What are we to think of the Texan, coming back to fix Ladonna’s roof? Is his motivation just a matter of pride - to truly show that Texans have a work ethic where the native New Orleanians don’t? Speaking of Miss Ladonna, she has the best line of the evening, one I was tempted to open the review with, but it is not family friendly so I decided against it: “We’re in Lent now, the legs are closed.” Is that a Simon or a Pelecanos bon mot?

As much as I love the Treme title song, it can be jarring when the teaser is a serious one, in this case, Annie and Sonny announcing their separate ways. Actress Lucia Micarelli does sadness and confusion very well; hopefully the character gets to stretch to happiness and clarity next year. In a season where lots of fans expected her to die, isn't it a twist if she survives and Creighton throws himself out the airlock?

Dan Attias, director, is a veteran of David Simon and George Pelecanos-penned The Wire episodes as well as many other top television dramas, including The Sopranos, Deadwood, Lost, and Friday Night Lights. He directed my personal favorite Big Love episode - "Come, Ye Saints." So come all ye saints, see you at the season finale, "I'll Fly Away."

Originally published on blogcritics

Treme: All On A Mardi Gras Day

"I heard you twice the first time." - Delmond

After a two-week hiatus, during which a real-time Gulf Coast catastrophe continues to dominate the news, Treme returned last night with “All On a Mardi Gras Day.” HBO offers a synopsis of each episode of Treme “in case you missed something.” Missed something? “All On a Mardi Gras Day” is such a spectacle of sight and sound, a veracious depiction of the real thing, not only does the viewer miss something, he or she misses most things. As you would were you a tourist standing on the corner of Canal and Basin.

Late in Treme’s previous episode, “Smoke My Peace Pipe,” the series took a turn toward the compelling storytelling we’ve come to expect from Team Simon and Overmyer. Toni and Ladonna drove into the complex of trailers that serve as makeshift morgues for the unburied, unclaimed casualties of Katrina, and from that moment on, Treme paid off its audience’s patience. Despite the title, there was no peace in the haunted stares of Ladonna contemplating her brother’s death, Toni witnessing Ladonna's pain and her own husband’s depression, and Creighton staring at his blank screen (a particularly disturbing scene for a writer). Even Davis, peering into the dark windows of his sometime lover’s failed restaurant, stops and suffers.

These emotional moments continue in "All On a Mardi Gras Day,” almost six months to the day from Katrina. It is an episode devoted to the exuberance of the parade, but still it finds moments of mournfulness. New Orleans is not the same since Katrina. Nor could it be.

Ladonna struggles to hold her composure while grieving for her brother. As big an admirer as I am of her work in Simon’s mini-series The Corner, it is truly remarkable what she is doing in Treme. Her asymmetric gaze looks into the abyss, but her body remains strong (for the most part, except when Antoine plays her like his musical instrument). She has responsibilities: her aging mother, her husband, her children, her business. She must stay determined, but how affecting were her bowed shoulders. With a lilt in my voice, I say "I feel an Emmy coming" for Ms. Alexander.

Creighton and Sofia stop by Lake Pontchartrain’s south coast to bear witness to the not-so-ancient ruins of the lake's venerable seafood restaurants. This has a poignancy that no one could have anticipated. The defeat of Jaeger’s, Fitzgerald’s, Bruning’s, and Sid-Mar’s has even more significance than when this episode was originally filmed. Sid-Mar’s reopened this past January in Metairie, a northern suburb of New Orleans, and now as we all know, Sid-Mar’s is facing yet another catastrophe - the ongoing BP disaster and the impact it will have on the Gulf seafood industry.

One of the reasons why Chef Janette and the struggles of her restaurant weigh in so heavily into Treme’s storyline is to illustrate the importance of food to the unique New Orleans culture. The oil spill looms large over the seafood in Janette’s guerilla cooking whether Janette knows it or not. The spill will affect oysters, shrimp, fish, all integral aspects to the New Orleans cuisine. And it is not just seafood. New Orleans was in such a delicate state of recovery as it stood. As Susan Spicer, a New Orleans chef and restaurateur who serves as a consultant and basis for the Janette character, says: “The normal little things that you take for granted were just that much harder. We still don't have enough grocery stores.”

Last night, Chief Albert’s Indians continued working on their costumes, but the Chief remains locked in after his punch-up with the NOPD. In the hands of other television writers, the Chief would have received a last-minute reprieve and been able to march on Mardi Gras. Not here in Simon’s world. This is what makes Simon and Overmyer such notable writers. No cliches or convention.

The Indian Chief remains behind bars and without drama. With his father absent, son Delmond has the opportunity, the freedom, to experience Mardi Gras without his father’s large shadow. Delmond's about face is set up rather obviously by his too-honest puzzlement: “Why not put all that time, energy, money into fixing up the place.” What Delmond manages to understand by the end of the episode, with the help of some sex and alcohol Mardi Gras style, is that time, energy, and money is being put into fixing up the place via the parades.

Toni, continuing her saintly ways, which now include knitting, (she is a domestic goddess as well as a civil rights deity,) gives us what I believe is the first indicator that Creighton is not a native New Orleanian whereas she is. In discussing the night parades, she shudders at the “antebellum” aspect of these particular parades: “masked riders on horseback with pointy hoods? HELLO!”

Yes, hello, Creighton. You have a writer’s studio on a professor’s salary. What do you have to be depressed about?! But I digress. Writer's block is no joking matter. Creighton defends the old line carnival stuff. Toni responds in one of the most telling dialogues of the episode, that the parades, even in their carpe diem fun, are emblematic of something much more complicated: “That’s because you’re not from here. When you grow up with it, it has a whole other meaning.” It would be a fascinating turn of events for Toni, the native daughter of New Orleans, to have to nurse her husband through his breakdown over the breakdown of his adopted city. Toni knits on.

In an episode where the characters are supposedly putting their lives on hold for the parade, there is plenty of development. Creighton slips further into ennui. In contrast, Annie begins to wake up to how crippling her relationship with Sonny is. Her platonic hook-up with Davis for the day was perfectly charming. Well, it was more Jean Lafitte than Prince Charming, but it does Davis good to play a different role. The mask suits him. Notice the interesting parallelism of Davis not realizing the slave trader history of Lafitte and Creighton not acknowledging that some of the old school carnivals, particularly the night parades in Toni's opinion, have a similar inglorious background.

Wednesday's hangover must now be faced. Lenten suffering commences. Thank God for St. Joseph's Day.

I have to go. I have to mix up some Jameson and Cokes, but before I leave, here are some items up for discussion:

Why does Toni continually insist on feeding Creighton to offset his depression? It’s understandable, but not in his best interest. Lots of media moments have been made of John Goodman’s girth, including some great roles, but the last thing he needs is gumbo. There were moments in “All On a Mardi Gras Day” when I thought that Creighton was suffering from a heart attack, or at least an severe episode of gout, rather than depression.

A further installment in the campaign for Jacques the sous chef here. It’s not professional, but my informal campaign to expand Jacques’ character continues, if not for the actor’s incredible performance, then for the singular viewpoint of a recent immigrant into the depleted city. When Davis asks Janette if she needs him for Mardi Gras, and she responds no, that she has Jacques, we cheer.

The love for a city: the distant camera shots of New Orleans at dawn Mardi Gras day are reminiscent of season two of The Wire’s Baltimore seen from its port waters. Beautiful and affecting cinematography by Ivan Strasburg. And speaking of The Wire, as I must every week, isn’t Antoine living Bunk’s dream life?

We’re less than two months away from the season premiere of Mad Men, time to point out that the Pontchartrain Beach amusement park was built in the late 1920s, near the site of the Milneburg entertainment district, by the family of Bryan Batt, Mad Men's Sal Romano. Here's hoping he returns for season four.

As always, I recommend reading Dave Walker’s “Treme Explained” for everything that cannot be taken in on one viewing of Treme. One pleasant fact I learned from Mr. Walker's column: the French Quarter apartment where Janette begins her Mardi Gras partying and does such a great Elvis impersonation belongs to director Anthony Hemingway. How fun is that? Thank you. Thank you very much.

Originally published on blogcritics.org

Treme: Take the zzzzz train

This is going to a short review of Treme’s sixth episode, "Shallow Water, Oh Mama," because nothing much happened.

It has been a trend so far on Treme to bring on a local NOLA writer to do the episode’s teleplay. Last week’s "Shame, Shame, Shame" was written by Lolis Eric Elie who, amidst many other accomplishments, is a food writer and so we see lots of delicious restaurant scenes. This week on "Shallow Water," Tom Piazza shares the writing work with David Simon and Eric Overmyer and is credited with the teleplay. Piazza, like Elie, had no television writing experience. Bringing in local writing talent is adding authenticity, but there might be a problem, Houston.

Is Treme losing narrative pacing in its endeavor for authenticity?

I love the music, the locale, the characterizations (mostly), but I do not love these stories. These are stories of paralysis; for the most part, they are proving to be shallow stories, oh mama, and frankly it doesn’t make for great television. In other words, Treme is becoming more like the "Zzzzz" train to me.

I don’t need Smoke Monsters in all my television shows; I am perfectly happy to spend quiet time with an unhappy Annie and her cafe au lait and beignet in the Cafe du Monde, but it can’t all be like that. Depressed people — “ain’t we all,” commiserates Antoine — should be cared about and cared for, but a general despondency does not make for exciting storytelling. It may be authentic; it may be real, and viewers were warned, don’t come to Treme looking for The Wire. Fair enough, but we should be able to come to Treme expecting compelling television. Now, more than halfway through the first season’s ten episodes, the characters’ immobility is less than compelling.

"Shallow Water, Oh Mama" is a Mardi Gras Indian chant. It briefly appeared at the end of episode two with only Big Chief Albert and George in attendance at practice. This time around, more people show for Albert's practice, and New Orleans seems in early physical restoration: the Musicians' Clinic, Big Chief’s bar, the Bernettes’ lovely front porch, the Carnivale Ball, and the Krewe du Vieux parade, but the characters stall in their individual journeys toward restoration and renewal.

Crey Bernette complains that he has moved from “serious novelist to cartoon” but we haven’t seen any of that. We’ve only seen the cartoon.

Delmond (Rob Brown, above) has been a cipher so far. The character’s story is in tension between the traditional and the progressive, between the world of his father, Big Chief Albert, and the world of New York City jazz, but the actor’s immobile face does not indicate any of this conflict. Or if it does, it may be too deep in the shadows to see. More complaints on this to follow.

Antoine looks for gigs. Antoinette looks for the missing Daymo Brooks while busy raising two children, daughter Sofia and husband Creighton.

Big Chief is occupied by building his Indian costume. He makes no progress in finding housing for his gang, but does manage to continually disappoint his children.

The usually vibrant Khandi Alexander was mostly M.I.A. (which could be part of the episode's problem). She has a short scene with her mother in a health clinic where, thematically consistent, they are helpless without their medical information, long gone in Katrina.

Annie is locked in a destructive relationship with Sonny, a relationship the audience recognized for what it was since episode one. This is what I mean by paralysis and non-narrative. We are not taking a journey with Annie. We were at the end of this, foresaw the end of this, from the beginning (but hopefully not copying the real-life end of that poor girl, Addie Hall).

Looking to another couple, Janette and Jacques have the most cogent plotline, but I fear it has come to an end. Janette fails to keep her restaurant going, and those scenes of defeat are among the most successful of the episode. In a poignant moment of realization that she cannot continue, Janette buries her face in her hands, and Jacques, her sous chef, makes a slight movement to comfort her. It was such a sweet, nuanced moment, and it makes me despair that the closing of Desautel’s will push these two characters to the borders of the story further. Packing up her knife, Janette takes a long last look at Desautel’s, perhaps realizing that blueberry mojitos are not a good idea, and leaves the building. I do hope she comes back, and I recognize my involvement in this particular story is contradictory to the argument at hand.

In the beginning of the series, I was afraid that the music would stall the momentum of the show. That fear was wholly unfounded; the music has absolutely contributed to each episode’s success, more so than any particular character's narrative arc. Case in point: when the sound is turned down on the televised city council forum and we can only hear Coco Robicheaux singing in the back of the bar. The attention to music and its detail has proven surprisingly absorbing within the framework of serialized drama. It is the story between the songs that needs some improvement.

I’m in this for the long road. I understand that the series is trying to recreate real people stuck in real situations, post-Katrina, but the television viewer in me hopes that there is more story to next week’s episode, "Smoke My Peace Pipe," than Desiree washing Antoine’s tuxedo.

I must leave; I need to reform the Napoleonic Code, but before I go, here are some items up for discussion:

Can the John Goodman character become any more insufferable? Creighton Bernette goes from whining that the publishing company will want its advance back on an overdue book to whining when the company asks for the book to become more contemporary. He then ridicules his agent for being interested in his YouTube rants: “I’m not trying to be the spokesman for the city.” What are these YouTube rants for then?

Notice the parallelism here between Crey Bernette not wanting to be a spokesman and Davis’s announcement that, if elected, he will not serve. Both characters want to be agents of change but also want to limit their personal responsibility — stasis!

It was delightful to see Talia Balsam as Carla the literary agent, all the way from 1963 New York City, and Elizabeth Ashley, a true Tennessee Williams actress, as Davis’s Aunt Mimi. Ashley was not recognizable behind the sunglasses, hair, and jewelry, but that voice was.

Melissa Leo has a nice Columbo moment to make headway on her case, but I fail to see why, by not getting the ADA to help her file a joint motion, she now no longer thinks it's offensive for her 15-year-old daughter to dress up as a sperm.

There are many moments where lighting indicates character instead of letting storytelling do it. Bands of light across Clarke Peters' eyes indicate rage. Shadows across Sonny’s face symbolize what... darkness, I guess. Bright sunlight on Davis’s campaign parade sanitizes the misguided attempt because “sunlight is the best antiseptic.”

Halfway through the series, I’m just hoping someone comes along and hits Davis again. Not Annie. Davis.

For an insight and explanation into Treme’s music, I insist you visit The Sound of Treme blog. The blogger is a Tulane music professor and knows of what he speaks!

Originally published on blogcritics.org

Shame, Shame, Shame: Every Sentence is Like Butter From My Pen.

Davis: “This isn’t good at all. Your city is wet. Really wet. It must be twice as bad on the ground.”

“Shame, Shame, Shame.” It is the title of two New Orleans songs, and the title of last night’s episode of Treme. It’s the evident theme as well. There’s plenty of shame to spread around. Shame on Davis for not really knowing his place in his neighborhood. Shame on Creighton for not knowing his place in his literary neighborhood. Shame on Sonny for copping again.

For DJ Davis McAlary, a character many viewers love to hate (but I am loving Steve Zahn's performance), most of the shame over how Katrina was handled is reserved for President Bush. For the writer of the episode, Lolis Eric Elie, shame is more appropriately worn by the Army Corps of Engineers who for years built and maintained levees which could not contain Katrina's flood waters.

Elie, a former Times-Picayne writer, is the co-creator/producer of Faubourg Treme: The Untold Story About Black New Orleans, a documentary with great influence upon the HBO series, and the impetus to Elie getting a writing job with David Simon and Eric Overmyer. As if that weren't enough accomplishment, Elie is also a food writer and an editor for Cornbread Nation, an anthology of Southern food writing. This particular hat Elie wears is manifest in the episode's excellent restaurant scenes.

To recap and recarp: Sonny supplies more and more reasons why Annie should run like hell. Creighton begins to show evidence for why he is known for his verbal powers of persuasion (because f-you doesn’t persuade anyone of anything — try it on the road next time you're driving), Davis wastes more and more of our and his community’s time (Davis on his run for City Council — "if nominated I will pretend to run. If elected I will not pretend to serve"), and Toni continues her saintly ways, spending lots of time searching for a missing trombone. No phone calls for Toni - she handles everything in person. And that's a good thing because she brings us to two wonderful television actors, David Morse and Tim Reid. I mean, how is anyone supposed to concentrate on the many layers and levels of Treme if they keep bringing us our favorite '80s actors to distract us from the work at hand?

Actor Tim Reid followed up his success on WKRP in Cincinnati with Frank's Place, a short-lived sitcom set in New Orleans. In "Shame, Shame, Shame," Reid plays a court judge that Toni and LaDonna appeal to, seeking more help from the New Orleans Sheriff Department for the missing DayMo.



For the missing trombone, Toni calls on David Morse in what I hope is a recurring role, not just part of the Treme parade of celebrities. Morse has worked in film (The Green Mile), Broadway (The Sea Farer), and television. He was Dr. Morrison in 137 episodes of St. Elsewhere, the series that out-Housed House and over-ERed E.R. He’s pictured here with Howie Mandel on table (with hair) and Sagan Lewis.





When Janette cooks for four celebrity chefs, we get scenes of cooking comparable to musicians playing: there’s more to treasure in New Orleans than just the music. In this scene, overindulgent with the four cameos of super chefs Tom Colicchio, Eric Ripert, David Chang and, just for laughs, Wylie Dufresne, there is the delightful, almost toss-off moment when Janette grills the waitress as to what exactly Colicchio's reaction to her creation is: "How did he say it? Exactly what did he say?... He said 'She can cook' or 'She can really cook?'": It's a consummate moment in her cooking career, and we are happy to share it with her. Later she attempts to tell Davis about the chefs' visit, but he is too wrapped up in his campaign to pay any attention. The episode further illustrates the contrast between Janette as an artist and Davis as a poseur.

There were many chefs, yes, and the restaurant scene could be argued as overkill, but we get to spend more time with Janette’s right hand man in the kitchen, Jacques Vaz, so there's no complaining here. Played by accomplished stage actor, playwright and documentarian, Ntare Mwine, Jacques is building more and more of a presence in Treme, a welcome presence. New Hampshire-born from Ugandan parents, Mwine (below) is a master of accents as indicated from his early work in New York Undercover and his one-man play Biro.



The fifth episode begins, as the series has been all along, typically paced, meandering along like a slow-moving parade through an old neighborhood, until "the wheels are off the cart" as the NOPD Lt. explains to Toni. Chaos breaks out at the Second Line, bullets ring out, and the romanticism of Davis’ rant that “New Orleans without poor people aint New Orleans” is shot down. With poverty comes the crime - the drugs, the bodies, the guns - but "you want to talk about a trombone," the Lieutenant says to Toni. Exuberance at the return of the parade is blown away by gunshots. We are left with a stark image of the young girl lying in the park after the second liners scattered, leaving her wounded on the ground. “A stark reminder of a New Orleans that many hoped had been washed away” says the television announcer. Shame, shame, shame.

I have to leave now, I'm six years late on my novel, but before I go, some points up for discussion:

Not being a huge fan of Crey Bernette's seemingly unwarranted ego, I enjoyed his moment of self-doubt in the face of NPR god Roy Blount Jr.: "Butter comes out of Roy’s pen sentence after sentence."

Great scenes between Antoine "Read my lips, it was Honore Dutrey" Batiste and his Japanese benefactor (Tatsuo Ichikawa) “regrettably I have to correct you.” Antoine is mistaken initially for Alvin Batiste who is "from a whole different place" in music, the verbal sparring between the two was not only immensely entertaining, but also served to break through Treme's occasional provincialism: Antoine was clearly being schooled on jazz from someone who lives a half a world away.

Nice plot construction for Davis to get picked up by the neighbors he despises after being rejected by the neighbors he aspires to be.

Finally, after the Houston bouncer actively protects Annie during the gun shots while Sonny stumbles around cluelessly, Sonny sends him packing, more indication that this is not going to end happily.

In an episode marked by doors (or lack thereof as in Sonny's apartment), there are doors, doors, doors. Bathroom doors closing and opening. Car doors opening and closing. Opportunity opening and closing. Shame, shame, shame.

This post was originally published on Blogcritics

How Do You Get to Sleep at Night, Man? I drink.

Lulu: "I've gotta crack in my wall upstairs that needs tending."

As I write this, an oil leak off the coast of Louisiana threatens to surpass the Exxon Valdez as the nation’s worst environmental disaster. On April 20, an offshore oil rig exploded. Two days later it collapsed into the gulf, causing three separate leaks that continually spew out an estimated 5000 gallons of oil a day. Thuong Nguyen, a Louisiana shrimp fisherman, interviewed by today's New York Times, wonders how, after having survived Katrina, he will survive this. Another unnatural disaster.

Meanwhile, HBO’s Treme looks back at New Orleans' last engineering catastrophe — the flooding after the levees failed during Hurricane Katrina. Note the irony — last night's episode featured George Bush's famous (or infamous) "we will do everything needed" speech while the present President arrived in New Orleans today to reassure that the government reaction is appropriate to the emergency. The blurring of history, fact, and fiction astounds.

In an opening scene during last night’s “At the Foot of Canal Street,” Big Chief Albert argues with an insurance agent about the coverage for his ruined house. It wasn’t the wind and rain of Katrina that ruined Albert’s house, but the flooding from the breached levees. This was a situation shared by many residents of New Orleans — only about one-third of city residents, affected by Katrina, carried flood insurance. More information on failures of levees and of insurance and other "all Treme all the time" topics can be found on this excellent blog by the Times-Picayune.

To recap: Antoine tries to reconnect his relationship with his sons and his dentures. Khandi continues to search for her brother with Toni's help. Sonny takes a road trip to Houston for "better luck" and is humiliated for his efforts. Davis continues to annoy not only us but Janette too.

The episode is named for the John Boutte song which the songwriter sang himself last night accompanied by Glen David Andrews and his band. The title refers to the "great equalizer" — the cemetery, this particular one at the foot of Canal Street. No matter what class, race, religion, we all end up in the same place — the ground. Suggesting a carpe diem attitude, should we, should the characters, waste their time with anger? This will be a theme threading through the show's many narratives: "You only live once, then you're dead and gone for a long time," Sonny chastises the Texas bouncer who makes an overture of kindness. Yes, life is too short to be so self-righteous, Sonny.

What better writer for this episode, when the post-Katrina flood of crime begins to rise, than George Pelecanos, well-versed in detective fiction and well known from The Wire. It would seem so, but the crime action in this episode is unsophisticated.

Davis is a victim of a con which the viewer can see a mile away so why can't he? In an unsurprising turn of events, Davis' car is robbed and the viewer, who may not know what the term "lagniappe" means, does know that Davis shouldn't have left his instruments in his car. Creighton (he's put some clothes on! He's left the house!) astutely surmises that lagniappe (bonus) doesn't mean what it used to mean.

And speaking of cons, Delmond (Rob Brown) gets set up too, but the joke gets lost in a rush of cameos set in low lighting. New York's own parade of stars flashes by, and we barely get a chance to see who's who. That was Stanley Crouch and... who was that? Nelson George. Thank goodness Bernie Williams didn't make the scene. Sometimes, too many cameos make the television watcher go blind.

The episode constructs an effective parallelism between Sonny (in a great performance by Michiel Huisman) and Delmond. Delmond tells his agent, "I am from New Orleans, I don't play New Orleans," while Sonny is desperate to play New Orleans and travels to Houston to do so.

Creighton's character, following up on the introduction of YouTube in a prior episode, travels in his daughter's footsteps and does some swearing up and down the weblog highway. Creighton Bernette is based upon Ashley Morris who used a lot of profanity to bolster his arguments; I don't know much about Mr. Morris and his life and times, but I would debate whether this is effective television for the long haul. It's comically ironic — that a man who studies the best combination of words for a living, an English professor at Tulane, can't find something else to say, in his rage, than "f-in f'ers?" It's funny. For about three minutes.

If this particular story continues, Creighton being a local celebrity for his YouTube rants, we are going to wish that the good professor could use his verbal talents for good, like persuading local Entergy officials to hook up the gas line for one of his favorite restaurants. Venting on YouTube is safe and distant and remains to be seen if it has any immediate, practical use in this fiction. After all, this English professor chose this same adjective to describe the Harry Potter books earlier in the season. We haven't yet seen any of the English professor in Creighton Bernette.

For all my complaining, I was amused by Creighton's reprimand to New York: "To New York. F*** you too. You get attacked by some fundamentalist f***ing a**hole and the federal money comes raining down like rose petals." I was amused, but I imagine there will be New Yorkers who are not. Especially so soon after the thwarted Times Square bombing. Those offended, please know that the original rages were cleaned up for the John Goodman character.

There’s been some chat in webland that the characters of LaDonna and Janette are redundant because both women are trying to fix up and save their businesses. LaDonna runs Gigi's Lounge, a bar that's been in her family for generations and an indicator of her different position in New Orleans society than her dentist husband, who, by the way, has been quite saintly so far. Janette Desautel is the chef-owner of Uptown, a successful restaurant with cuisine and clientele, but now, post- Katrina, she can't get her financial footing.

Last night, the restaurant loses its gas line; in this case Entergy is indeed the bad guy and not the ruse as in Davis' con, and Uptown is forced to shut down for the night. I disagree with the idea that these two characters, Janette and LaDonna, are in similar conflicts. Janette actually occupies a unique place in Treme — she is the only female character we see in the act of creating. Annie, seemingly a musician of great talent, is certainly putting her light under a basket. Janette, if you agree that cooking can be an art form, is constantly composing and improvising, like a jazz musician, in her kitchen. For that, I vote she stays. And speaking of staying, I've overstayed my welcome, but here are some items up for discussion:

Catch the Wire reference when Sonny and his friends are planning the trip to Houston? One of his friends mistakenly calls Sonny's native Amsterdam "Hamsterdam" — a nudge, nudge to the Wire's third season when Police Lt. Bunny Colvin tried to contain crime to a no-rules neighborhood. Steve Earle's appearance as a street musician (along with his son Justin Townes Earle) is also a tie back to The Wire. Steve sang "Way Down in the Hole" - The Wire's iconic theme. He was also Bubble's sponsor at AA/NA. He maintains the same hairstyle.

Speaking of Sonny, there is some speculation that the Sonny/Annie story will go the way of the true-life murder of Addie Hall, New Orleans street musician, by her boyfriend. I certainly hope Annie's story doesn't go there, but every time the character gets an offer she can't refuse (like a studio gig through Steve Earle), she does refuse, and I get more nervous for her.

Jim True-Frost's cameo turned out to be an appearance as Delmond's agent who wants Delmond to seize the day — the day created by Katrina. Like Annie, Delmond is turning down perfectly good jobs in a most nonsensical manner, but that could be the starving artist in me.

Another Wire reference: Keevon White (Anwan Glover), the Not-David Brooks, is uncharacteristically talkative in his semi-confession, but perhaps that's just the Slim Charles in him.

Much of the episode travels outside of New Orleans: Brooklyn, Baton Rouge, Houston. What happens when the show travels to Portland where I hear "they clap on the one and the three" — those poor, poor people!

Please, can Toni get some backbone in this marriage?! After a long day of interviewing murderers, her husband in the all day bathrobe greets her, she smiles, shrugs, and hangs tinsel like it's 1956. This is a waste of Melissa Leo.

Last week, I got Trombone Shorty’s given name wrong. Naming his brother instead, the error was an indication of just how much I need to learn about this foreign culture into which Simon and Overmyer dropped us. As Dave Walker of the Times-Picayune says, there is "a density of local references" demanding an "almost encyclopedic reference." I need all the help I can get when putting together these columns, writing from New York, a galaxy far, far away from post-Katrina New Orleans and where federal money floats down like rose petals.

Article originally published here

Treme: Right Place, Wrong Time

A toast: "To doing what we love."

Sunday's episode of Treme had an especially poignant significance: it was written by the late David Mills who died of a brain aneurysm on a location shoot in March. The episode on its surface bristles with a theme of the quasi-military occupation of New Orleans after Katrina. Under the dark surface is an unintended homage to David Mills, a story of love — a love for city, a love of culture, a love for music, a love for another. "I need your love so badly/I love you oh so madly," sings Antoine Batiste (Wendell Pierce) to the young street violinist, Annie.

"Right Place, Wrong Time," named for a Dr. John song from the '70s that even I, clueless New Yorker, am familiar with, takes place four months after Katrina, and crime and tempers begin to flare. The heavy-handed police and National Guard presence frustrates city residents: "Cops are wound tight. Guard is on edge." Characters Davis McAlary (Steve Zahn) and Antoine both have physical run-ins with authority, Batiste getting the worst of it. You have to worry about how he's going to play his "bone" with a mouth as pummeled as it is. In the first of many references to the title, the military presence is in the right place but at the wrong time - the guard would have been much more useful four months prior - during "the greatest engineering failure in the history of the country," as co-creator David Simon calls it.

In other plotlines, Big Chief Lambreaux continues to gather up his tribe, and big prof Creighton Bernette discovers the joy of YouTube.

The women in Treme continue to have the most interesting stories. If David Simon took to heart that The Wire lacked compelling women characters, Treme would be evidence for his conversion. LaDonna (Khandi Alexander) cares for her grandmother, searches for her missing brother and runs after errant contractors. Her marriage, revealed to be across class lines in the episode, appears strong - a glimmer of hope among some dark stories that cross Treme. A seemingly sturdy marriage is something LaDonna has in common with another character: Toni Bernette (Melissa Leo) - married to Creighton and the hardest working woman in law business.

Poor Toni. She runs here and there through Treme. Rescuing people from jail, searching for lost sons, arguing with idiotic authority figures, and pouring love and understanding onto her husband and daughter. So far, she is the manifestation of pure goodness. It may make her one-dimensional, pretty thankless too, but I, for one, am enjoying her character, especially after the shock of the Chief finding his Wild Man.

Another strong female character, Janette has her loves too. In one of the most compelling narratives, Janette struggles to hold on to her number one love — her restaurant. She tolerates her other love, one of convenience to be sure, Davis."Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, Davis McAlary has to open up the expensive wine and piss away all my money," but we all know the real ending of that song.

Davis takes her out on a date from the windfall of his one day of work at the Bourbon Street hotel. The lovely scene when Davis pours her the last glass of wine from their bottle, upon seeing Janette's pain at the thought of losing her place of business, is one of pure tenderness and subtlety. It almost makes up for the awful song he composes.

There are fleeting sexual assignations: Antoine and the stripper from the bar, the boy and his girl in Big Chief's place, Annie? But the heart of "Right Place, Wrong Time" is in the marriages of LaDonna, Toni, the connection between Chief's tribe, Sonny's love for Annie, and Davis coming out of his egoism and thinking for a moment of someone else - Janette.

"This city loves its music. It don't love its musicians." This is a reiteration of last week's "Everyone loves New Orleans, [but] New Orleans people?" from Big Chief Lambeaux. Treme loves its people. It loves its musicians too. As to be expected, Dr. John figures prominently in the episode. "Right Place, Wrong Time" plays when Sonny is shopping for that perfect bottle of Beaujolais for his Annie. Dr. John himself sings his famous "My Indian Red," apologizing to the gangs and hoping the song is performed with the "most love and respect" for the tradition. Jazz pianist Tom McDermott appears as himself - a musician who is appreciated in the city because he is playing the right places. Trombone Shorty - James Andrews - also plays himself. And that brings me to one of my favorite scenes.

The argument on gentrification.

It's not a matter of black and white. Nothing is in David Simon's world. Davis' neighbors confront him on his un-neighborly ways. They turn out not be outsiders and are pretty knowledgeable on things Treme. Davis, in his most sanctimonious manner, refuses to listen. And he stumbles in trying to retrieve the name of Trombone Shorty's cousin (Glen David): "all those damned Andrews." It signifies that he may be right about the gay couple's taste in decorating - fairy lights and overly large glass ornaments in the courtyard - but he's not right in his assumptions about his community.

Another scene full of gray shades — the final scene. I would argue that no one was in the right place at any time throughout the entire episode until the very end when the Katrina tour bus pulls up in front of Chief Albert and his tribe, mourning their Wild Man. The bus bears witness to the devastation and loss, and in a remarkable moment of being in the right place at the wrong time because there is no right time, the bus driver apologizes and pulls away. But snapshots are taken before he does. We can’t criticize this because we, the audience, are an extension of that bus. The situation is unwinnable. It is a more important dichotomy than the foreshadowing argument between Davis and his gentrifying neighbors. The devastation and loss must be looked at but must not be at the same time. We are "trespassing through the narrative" as David Simon says in his open letter to New Orleans found here.

I've got a Big Chief, Big Chief, Big Chief of the Nation
Wild, wild creation
He won't bow down, down on the ground
Oh how I love to hear him call Indian Red

When I throw my net in the river
I will take only what I need
Just enough for me and my lover
I will take only what I need

— "My Indian Red" lyrics

Up for discussion:

It's a redeeming moment when Albert hires the young boy he earlier found hiding in his bar. Does this make up for the beating he gave the young thief — the one he was searching for in the obits?

How funny is the conversation between Davis and Creighton who is hovering over his little girl during her piano lesson: "Don't let your mind get ahead of you Davis. Piano lessons. Don't think about what she will or won't do. That has nothing to do with you." There is a lot of humor in Treme. Enough maybe to bring it the awards that The Wire should have received. And speaking of The Wire...

HBO is using actors from The Wire in their trailers to entice Wire fans into the Treme neighborhood (e.g. Anwan Glover), but I find Wire actors disconcerting during the show itself and have to work hard to distance Chief Albert from Lester Freamon and Antoine from Bunk. A few more episodes and more pouring over the Times-Picayune, and I know I shall be successful. That said, the appearance of Jim True-Frost in the trailers for next week is welcome news! Fresh from Fringe, True-Frost is a member of Chicago's famous Steppenwolf Theatre Company and best known for his role in The Wire as Roland "Prez" Pryzbylewski, a great math teacher, not so great police officer.

This article was first published at Blogcritics