One of the greatest pleasures in life for me is to hear a good story. Such a kind that leaves you in a state of a slight shock and with a lot of reflection. Being a pessimistic grumbler far too often, I generally hold a view that everything's been said and done and surprising an experienced recipient borders on impossible. But, every once in a while, upon reading or watching something new, I'm put back in my place quite enexpectedly, and thank god for that.
The first season of True Detective was exactly this for me. It had me hooked from the first minute of the first episode 'till the last scene where one of the most beautiful, simple, meaningful-without-being-overly-dramatic conversations in TV history took place. So I tried to lower my expectations before starting season 2 to prevent any initial resentment rising from the fact that it does not measure up.
In a way, it did not. From the dusty, eerie, mystical landscapes of the Deep South I was thrown into the loud and fast-paced rythm of California. Instead of two leading characters I suddenly got four separate stories to follow. And in the words of one of the characters, who apparently took the question right out of my mouth - 'what the f... is Vinci'?
So I finished watching the first episode, having very ambiguous feeling towards the whole thing and then I thought that I'd like to listen to the opening song one more time. So I did. Great piece of music. (How do you get Leonard Cohen to record a song for a TV series I'll never know. Who's gonna be next? Dylan? Waits?). Then I though I liked the scene with Ray and Frank sitting in a bar. So I watched it again (I've known that Farrell is a good actor since 'In Bruges', but Vince Vaughn's performance took me by surprise). And like that, scene by scene, I basically rewatched the whole episode, taking more and more pleasure in doing so.
Brak komentarzy:
Prześlij komentarz