Nip/Tuck: a retrospective of irresponsible horror
Nip/Tuck: a retrospective of irresponsible horror
Season 1; "main characters"; groundwork/foundation.
Alright, y’all, the time has come. The wait is over and, Jesus H. Christ, I truly wish I didn’t feel the need to do this.
Let’s start with some “Main Character” breakdowns:
Sean McNamara is one of our plastic surgeons with, subjectively speaking, a strange looking jawline—not the point, but it must be said. He seems to be the controlling partner, in both his personal and business life though he claims to share the practice equally. He’s bad in bed, apparently; not a good communicator, and an all around stick-in-the-mud uptight with a terminal case of self-righteousness. He has two kids, God help them, and he only really pays attention to one of them. I’m not sure if he remembers he has a wife at all. He talks about her, but never to her that often.
Christian Troy is the other half of a practice that should have been shut down years ago. He’s a sex fiend, his tan looks bad, and his suits yell “EXPRESS” in a not-good-kinda-way. Also, who let him walk on set with those sideburns? Why. In general, he’s a degenerate that is sold to us as “broken but has a good heart.” Generally, we see that “heart” develop over an episode and then promptly forgotten it the next, along with him. The trauma of it all. He is everything that we expect from the standard issue male misogynist and then some. Sweet, a bonus.
Julia McNamara, played by one of the Redgrave clan of the theatre scene in London, does nothing to convince me (apart from a few scenes here and there) that she was related to Vanessa Redgrave at all. She shakes a lot, is generally irritable, and mostly disappears in scenes while being run over by whatever man she is talking to. Her main struggle is to be seen, which is apparent, but I’m not sure it works in the way that she was told it was “working.” She has no personality that I can, equivocally, point to. A “nagging” wife archetype done with haphazard character development: a crime.
Matt McNamara is an unnerving teen that does, truly, try. That’s kinda it. Other than the pre-soft-boi-era, soft boy he is.
???? McNamara is the daughter that I can’t remember. She’s only there to prop up the men’s expressions of care, thereby, telling the audience that her innocence is all that is deserving of their protection and love. Love the foil here.
Liz Winters is the resident anesthesiologist at McNamara/Troy. She yells at them, which should be good, but then we find out she’s a lesbian and then she just becomes an “angry, racially ambiguous, lesbian.” Cooooool. For the most part, I like Liz. However, I’ve never met a lesbian that would qualify their behavior as “because I’m a lesbian…” but that seems to be the joke, point or statement. Not sure which.
Kimber Henry is, for all intents and purposes, Christian Troy’s “girlfriend/fwb/fuck buddy/punching bag/emotional toy/paper doll—love interest in Murphy terms” AND model. I think this character, alone, is grounds for being banned from ever writing for TV again. She is treated so poorly, her existence feels less than human. We are told to disrespect her. I am astounded, but also not, that this got through development. I am now hyper aware of how Mr. Murphy feels about women. Kimber, you deserved better and your character was used as a vehicle for eating disorders, body dysmorphia and depression. I am intensely sorry. * **
* Kimber Henry represented a lot of young women in direct contact with our internalized hatred of our bodies, internal selves, and our spirits. She was doubt and insecurity incarnate, a character that lives in me still, not for better and always for the worst being true. She was a warning. Her story was a threat. I am, obviously, bias and compassionate towards this character. It is what it is.
** Spoilers ahead.
** Spoilers ahead.
Opening Sequence
The Engine Room’s “A Perfect Lie” plays over top of a stark, sterile, sun-blindingly white screen. A heartbeat pushes us through to tiny forms of “life.” A hand twitches, an eyeball moves on perfectly curated mannequins with lifeless, but “perfect” faces. This is, likely, the only time I agree with Mr. Murphy. The opener is solid in its premise and message. I understand what I’m about to see: something jarring, something deceitful, and something hidden.
What we are given, however, does not deteriorate as we go and starts in no earnestness.
Notes on Camp:
I am aware that “camp” is argued to be a thing, here. But Ryan, himself, doesn’t call it “camp.” He doesn’t like that word apparently. He prefers “baroque.”*
Regardless, you don’t set out to make camp. You make it accidentally. Camp is irony. If the work is camp, it is ironic and ironically enjoyed. The work coming off as a off-kilter translation that is acceptable but not quite right. It’s a rouse for deeper subject matter, if you’re smart.
He claims that it’s used to “marginalize gay artists’ ambitions,” “to call it niche.”
Oh, so he’s not like other girls. Ok.
Therefore, Mr. Murphy, if you’re not going for campy, gore horror…you’re going for the “baroque” moment for…an hour? Baroque embodies a similarity in opulence or over-saturation, etc. with “camp.” However, the key difference is in the violence. Baroque is often at the expense of something. We will see this soon enough.
To be clear:
His stories treat the characters like shit.
His characters treat each other like shit.
The power dynamics are strictly patriarchal.
The violence is just there.
It’s not interesting, it’s cringe.
Moving on…
*Twelve Moral Axioms on Ryan Murphy’s Oeuvre publicbooks.org
Episode 1:
We begin…
“Tell me what you don’t like about yourself”
This is the first thing we hear. Sean McNamara of McNamara/Troy (because duh, his name is first) looks just, ever slightly, wrong at the camera, giving the impression he’s talking to the viewer.
The scene expanding to reveal his(our) first patients: Alejandro Perez’s brother, Silvio Perez. Miami mobsters, apparently…later, when they tell you.
Essentially, Perez wants a facial reconstructive surgery to hide from his molestation charges. We don’t know that until much later. But, I figure the surprise is nothing to spoil, considering.
Our next scene is what hospital shows have manifested money off of, or exploited, well into the aughts (00-09). Violent procedure, casual cruelty. Whatever. Currently, t’s a butt implant procedure that looks like the client is being fucked by a medical instrument. I’ll let you imagine the placement from the context clues.
K.
“Butt implants, what will they think of next?” says Liz.
Christian is the facilitator of this violence until Sean steps in, to say:
“I need to switch, there’s a potential client in my office that I don’t understand…”
Christian obeys.
Sean, after examining the current “work:”
“…you put this implant in upside down.”
Christian just smiles and shrugs it off with a:
“You save my ass again.”
Liz chimes in:
“And hers.”
Hardy, har…har.
Cutting back to the Messers Perez, Christian is (aghast!) speaking Spanish with Silvio. There’s a lot of back and forth and, essentially, Christian rightly susses out that something fishy is going on, ignores it, takes the astounding amount of money offered and attempts to run with it. A 30,000$ surgery, now being offered by Mr. Perez at 300,000$.
I’m familiar with the “discount” feature of most retail POS systems, even an occasional “asshole tax.” But, how exactly do you add 270,000$ through billing?
Oh, but no worries. Crisis averted. They paid in cash that “smells…Columbian?” We never do find out if they are, in fact, Columbian.
Now, I don’t always put my stock in doctors. Certainly not in a general office that ignores my complaints as a woman, should I dare to stumble near a male doctor, let alone a fictional TV show doctor. Generally, I’m with Liz on that department. Just don’t get too comfy with Liz, just yet folks.
The fact that a show opens with a suspected persons with BDD, a potentially interesting conversation, and it just ends up being a guy who slept with “the boss’s girl” so he needs a new face? Since Perez is a child molester *actually.*
Y’all remember M. Night Shyamalan, correct? Except this time, it’s “baroque” because it’s the shock of more violence.
If it shows anything:
Both of them are selfish.
Both of them are dumb.
So, why am I supposed to sympathize with any of the above? Christian actively puts the practice in danger and Sean blows up like a volcanic toddler whenever something doesn’t go his way. Necessary information, sure. Interesting? Not really because it doesn’t ever inform anything. Nothing is ever gained or learned.
If I could relate to them, somehow.
But that’s not what Sir Ryan creates. I going to assume that the hackneyed plot and unrelatable cast of characters is on purpose.
Why?
I don’t need to be reminded that “high status” men have privilege, that they can do what they want, when they want, how they want, no matter the harm. And, to boot, they don’t have to be likeable. They can be “complex.”
They’re just assholes, dude. You wrote assholes. That’s not complexity, that’s a personality disorder bordering on a self-report. The only things these two inspire is more of the same. Their “development” tends to build through an episode and then promptly forgotten in the next, leaving any climax built previously, never satisfied.
Speaking of development…
If this idea of “I know that this is horrible to watch, that’s the point” is the point, why is it at the expense of the viewer and your cast? And is that dear vision of yours, Murph, worth it to you?
It seems so.
The privilege to abuse people on screen to tell a “truth” that you don’t live is pinnacle evidence to narcissism at best and truly tone-deaf/racist/homophobic content at worst.
Which isn’t an odd phenomenon for the elder white gay men of our community.
The Sex Scenes
The sex scenes are unimaginative. It’s not the fact that they’re supposed to be ridiculous, but again, that we see the execution as being unbelievable and static.
For impact purposes, you would want to have these scenes be engaging as to point to the “reasoning behind” all the other bad behaviors. Christian’s “raison d’etre” and Sean’s shortcomings being displayed at stark contrast. That we may yearn for this type of conquest in support of Christian’s lifestyle and the irony that Sean is a “family man” while he continues to cheat, lie, and overall suck as a father.
If the sex scenes with Christian and Kimber suck too, that means there’s nothing to aim for. So we are left with disappointment on both ends. It’s not smart TV to make everything a downer. Nothing is good, ever. Everyone is sad, upset, abused, hurting, or crying/yelling. That’s not a comment on perfection, it’s just lazy.
Of course everything sucks.
How profound.
If you made this in ‘93, I would be more impressed. Heroin chic would have just began to settle into our zeitgeist. It would have been a bit more interesting, though you may not have had as many BIPOC or LGBTQ+ people to abuse. Boo for you.