TV show is based on a series of books. I’ve read none of them. They’re set in
I was in college I sent a postcard to a boy who kind of liked me once and I had
kind of liked once with only “Hieronymus Bosch” on it.
Welliver stars in Bosch as Hieronymus Bosch (and the only other
name better than Titus Welliver might just be Hieronymus Bosch).
Bosch is a haze of
familiar L.A. detec tropes. Think of one. It’s probably there. That’s fine.
They’re generally executed well. But: worth noting.
admit I didn’t watch this show supersuperclosely. I mean, I probably was
cleaning during some of it. I listened to Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying that week and had just been going
full steam ahead with the closets. Dag, that’s liberating, getting rid of
stuff. Ach! Recommend to anyone.
Bosch’s tan is a
little strange—like, even Kelly Slater with all that refracted light on the
surfboard doesn’t have such an unsettlingly even tan. But perhaps efficient
tanning beds are a good thing to evoke chez L.A.
myself taking bets with self if Bosch
will tackle the history of racism within L.A.P.D.— strikes me as wholly
necessary in any show in 2015.
BOSCH, PAINTER: it is hard, as a painting junkie, to understand why I live in a
world where you’d call so deliberately evoke H.B., and not continuously run
slides of the painter’s work across the screen—left to right, right to left,
diagonally, up and down, materializing/dematerializing, etc.—I don’t care. Oh,
action/schmaction: intermittent glimpses of the show or background noise will
do just fine! Have the resigned ex-wife scene disappear into “Ship of Fools”,
serial killer’s white van (always the white van!) pull up as “Seven Deadly
Sins” dematerialized. No TV show could ever
do that, you say? That’s so unrealistic, GT! Ratings, you point out? Comprehensibility?
Bah, I say.
As it turns out, Mr. Titus Welliver, although an inveterate character actor, IS
a leading man. He makes the thing work. It’s hard for me to quantify how he
does this without thinking how tiresome it might have been with someone who isn’t
able to convey the wily watchfulness, mutinousness, and occasional haplessness
that he does. And he sulks! With the irritation of a thwarted professional who
cares about his job! There is just not enough of that sort of sulking on TV.
Bosch is of the
fallen (*cough* Bosch-ian) world, but to me this feels like it manifests less
as de rigeur TV/movie cop-y world-weariness
than a character exhausted and bored from trying to live in alignment with the
realities of policing. Bosch, police
office and ex-solider of the Gulf War and Afghanistan, is totally of the Establishment,
not the Revolution, but his annoyance with the establishment gives whiffs of sedition
here and there.
thought Titus Welliver was pretty wonderful in Deadwood, where his character seemed to grudgingly accept the
inevitability of life’s shittiness and necessity for corruption, as well as his
own capacity for it. In Bosch, this
corruption (or morally questionable wiggliness around rules/regulation) is less
avarice than a desire—a lust?—for expediency. And that IS a lust my friends,
and a big one, if under-recognized.
Hector is Jerry Edgar, Bosch’s sidekick detec and convincing,
easy, a great foil and I believe what is called an actor’s actor (?). You can
see him containing his bright shiny star qualities to not scene steal. And his
posture is as good as it ever was in The
Wire—that gentleman has fantastic posture.
cop love interest failed to engage me. And I was all ready to fixate! Was her
dialogue rather wooden? Her aspirations presented in way that made me
suspicious of the POV of whoever wrote them? Did I find the actress
uncompelling? I dunno.
found the serial killer plot that the Bosch
hangs on like many of them…flat as a sodie pop left out on the kitchen table on a July
afternoon. That’s a whole ‘nother ball of wax which I will
tackle next time: the overabundance of serial killer plots, the defacto setting, if you will, in TV/movies. ARGH.
Bosch and the Affectless Serial Killer have
protracted gravel-voiced blabs on the phone: ‘You’re more like me than you
think, Bosch,” and “Hey, we’re not so
different,” Usually, I get behind the recognition of such things—but, I was too
busy noticing no one is trying to trace these calls! That seemed very silly.
Finally, any excuse to say it: I love Raymond Chandler.