Human beings are but storytelling machines. These days, in particular, our privileged, elected decision makers appear most skillfully equipped in the art of self-mythology. After all, history is but a set of lies agreed upon. Problems arise when convincing yourself that the roads you’ve paved, to arrive where you need – without stepping on another person’s feet – were made all by your lonesome. But civilization is built from the bones of communal savagery and the capacity for care often reconstructs itself in a country split by common decency. Whether or not our deeds are passed down into legend, into books our children will read, one simple fact remains; most are afforded no say in what happens to their story.
READ MORE: The 50 Most Anticipated TV Shows & Mini-Series Of 2019
HBO’s classic revisionist series, “Deadwood” (created by David Milch – a TV legend who helped pioneer the police procedural with his work on “NYPD Blue”) can certainly be seen as a communal microcosm for the times in which we are living – a realist reconstruction of a mythical American genre: the Western. Without “Deadwood” we arguably wouldn’t have “Rome.” Without “Rome,” there’s a chance “Game of Thrones” never sees the light of day. And if Winter never came, what would us fellow dramaturgy fanatics go bickering on about, to distract ourselves from the putrid bile that the House of Hoopleheads over in Yankton… (err… I mean Washington) insist upon spreading. Sorry, a certain innkeeper’s voice is still stuck in my head. That’ll happen when you intake enough of “Deadwood’s skillful and precise syntax.
READ MORE: The Best TV Shows & Mini-Series Of 2018
Ian McShane and showrunner Milch crafted an indelible and inimitable character (based on a real-life figure) in Al Swearengen, that frankly (along with Tony Soprano) towered over other complex television “protagonists” at the time, providing a fresh alteration to the TV anti-hero that changed the television landscape (without both HBO shows, “Breaking Bad,” likely never would have happened). But few remember the details of how Al’s chapter came to a close, and what happened to Deadwood’s other fine citizens. The reason? The show never finished.
On Friday, one of the most seminal series in cable TV history, not only receives, but fully earns itself, a fantastic ending; albeit tardily. In under two hours, Milch and company deliver a cathartic bookend to their realist tall tale. “Deadwood: The Movie,” is at once an echo of the conflict that set off the series (a bidding war surrounding a land claim), a natural extension of the show’s innumerable themes and a patented reminder of its unrivaled world-building. Revisiting the series, I found that not only is its unique plotting intensely innovative, the essence of its methodology almost remains untouched, effectively. It might sound cliche, but “Deadwood” weaves a tapestry out of its cast and community, unlike any other series. As such, this list is not ranked by numerically, but rather, chronologically (with some hours being paired together) as the show’s writing style is heavily dependent on its serialization, in addition to being more fun to quote than almost any show on TV.
“Here Was A Man” (S1, Ep 4)
Many of “Deadwood’s episodes act as unofficial two-parters (heck, sometimes, two hours worth of storytelling take place across a single day, the plotting is so precise) and the fourth episode, which many argue is the show’s gateway hour, almost acts as a second pilot for the series. Wild Bill Hickok (Keith Carradine) turns to his friend, Charlie Utter (Dayton Callie) and asks him, bluntly; “Can you let me go to hell the way I want to?” The query almost serves as a thesis for the entire show. History buffs already know the answer. He will soon be shot dead in a poker game. “Here Was A Man” masterfully builds to its inevitable ending; punctuation by way of a literal, behind the back shooting of a legendary gunfighter. Directed by Alan Taylor (“The Sopranos,” “Mad Men”) and written by Elizabeth Sarnoff (“Lost”), “Here Was A Man” is simply an all-time great TV episode. The staggering closing sequence (set to a transcendent piece of music composed by Gustavo Santaolalla; also used in “Babel” and “The Insider”) provided the show its first of many moments where strangers find themselves sharing a pair of all too recurrent feelings: remorse and regret.
“The Trial of Jack McHall” (S1, Ep 5)
The impact of Hickok’s murder is both amplified and undercut by the immediate thereafter. While Deadwood’s citizens stand in line to apply for jury duty, a merchant heartlessly attempts to hawk hairs of a decapitated Native American’s head, maintaining the “Indian” died the very same day Wild Bill Hickok was killed. During the actual ‘Trial,’ a man rushes in to testify, proclaiming the bullet that shot the cowboy is currently lodged within his wrist. Meanwhile, Deadwood’s de-facto leaders (Al and others) debate whether holding such proceedings in their new mining community is even warranted. Will their actions be deemed illegal by the Feds & Pinkertons, were they to ever find out about it? Not willing to risk their newfound independence, Al arranges with the judge to have the trial’s outcome manipulated, when he sees a legal loophole. Jack McHall (only the first “Deadwood” character to be played by Garret Dillahunt) can but insist that Wild Bill murdered his brother and the act will be dismissed as one of just vengeance. “The jurors will now retire to the whores’ rooms to deliberate,” the judge rules. McHall’s trial is a time capsule; a parallel to both the legal corruption and celebrity worship still embedded within our judicial system. The two hours of the series’ circling the legend of the dead man’s hand are each masterfully executed and they remain two of the show’s finest achievements to this day.
“Mister Wu” (S1, Ep 10)
There’s a lot of things “Deadwood” surely receives a deserved amount of credit for trailblazing. One aspect that tends to go unmentioned is its stupendous treatment of its Asian American immigrant storyline and the character of Mr. Wu (Keone Young) – a man who values his Chinese origins, openly refusing to learn English (apart from Al’s favorite word, cocksucker). Much of Milch’s series revolves around society’s clash with ideological belief, and the show’s beating heart understands why including minority communities – not typically afforded a worthy position among the folk legends – is such a key aspect of its world-building tapestry. “Mister Wu” is the episode that outlines Al’s (and the series’) acknowledgment and appreciation for cultural dichotomy, all the while revealing the true strength of “Deadwood’s” scripting process. The conflict finds Wu approaching the innkeeper, demanding retribution for the death of a Chinese man – killed in cold blood by two drugged out “white cocksuckers.” Not only is the dramatic payoff hair raising – it could be said, it veers close to disturbing – the episode also seeds a sea of motifs and plot threads, ones that will soon reveal themselves as essential to the story of later seasons. The amount of detail that the tenth episode of the rising show managed to lay as groundwork for future seasons is enormously impressive, in addition to the episode functioning as a powerful commentary on the value of human vitality.