kukkurovaca

Yeah, I know it was books before. Now it’s things, and stuff.

Next up: Neil Simon’s The Star-Spangled Girl.

Why the book play is awesome:

Apparently it’s not. I dimly remember thinking it was great when I read it, but that was quite a long time ago, now, and the infallible oracle of Wikipedia tells me that it’s not well-received or defended by Simon. (Although here is a somewhat more detailed explanation of the play’s strengths and weaknesses that, if I’m remembering the play correctly, is pretty right on.)

However, a lot of the stuff that’s off about it could be fixed in an adaptation for a different medium, and the underlying dynamic — red state/blue state, opposites attract, idealism, arrogance, expectations, etc. — is pretty rich ground. You could work on making Sophie feel like less of a caricature, and make sundry other improvements, in the process of adapting it, and end up with something really interesting.

Why a TV show would be awesome:

In the play, Andy and Norman run an underground political publication written by Norman under a variety of pseudonyms. This aspect of the setup is not only still relevant today, it is vastly more relevant. Anonymous and pseudonymous speech operating near or across the borderline dividing legitimate discourse from illegitimate is one of the most important and visible characteristics of political struggle in the immediate present. Turning Andy and Norman’s ‘zine into something that resembles the wacky original while also referencing the world of Anonymous and Wikileaks is something that would take effort, but is eminently achievable.

I think the red state/blue state thing is maybe a slightly harder sell nowadays than it was back then, but it can’t be that far outside the domain of interest, because Hart of Dixie appears to have found a damn audience, and “fish out of water” in general certainly remains a popular trope for tv series.

The medium switch also opens up a couple of interest possibilities — a lot of the issues that are trivialized in the play by necessity of condensation could be expanded, elaborated, and de-trivialized, for example, and — more importantly — the character of Norman and Andy’s daredevil landlady, who is alluded to in the play but never seen, could be turned into a fantastic role for any of a number of talented older actresses, and it would furnish delightful comic possibilities.

Maybe most importantly, a Star-Spangled Girl series would provide an opportunity to examine and discuss the deep cultural and political differences that divide America in a way that isn’t totally dismissive of one side or the other. (Not that Simon totally succeeded at that, but it could be done within the premise.) I’m not sure when the last time is that anyone really made a go at that — West Wing? (Not that West Wing is exactly free of bias, but it did at least sometimes present rational, honorable conservatives in conflict with rational, honorable liberals.)

Why it will never happen:

Political awareness can be perceived as (and/or can actually be) audience-limiting. It’s very hard to appeal to both sides of the spectrum simultaneously, especially in a comedic context. I imagine that would make this show a slightly hard sell. Also, you’d have to have really, really talented writers who are also — and this is key — not totally out of touch with the cultures they would wind up writing about.

I’m sure most folks who follow this account and are interested in my thoughts on photography already follow the 1/125 account as well. But, in case not, I just put up a new post there on Roy DeCarava’s “The Sound I Saw.”

Next up: John Le Carre’s Singe & Single.

Why the book is awesome:

Single & Single’s story revolves around the relationship between Tiger Single (a powerful and shady finance whatsit) and his son Oliver. At the opening of the book, Oliver is living in witness protection, having informed on his father to the authorities; but his father disappears (kidnapped by Russian criminals with whom he had been in business), and Oliver is drawn into the search for him by a customs agent who wants to use Tiger as part of his war on government corruption.

I have a hard time pinpointing why I like this book so much…but I think a big part of it has to do with how human it is. The goals, powers, and flaws of the characters — both good and bad — seldom seem grandiose or abstract, and yet, Le Carre does a good job of showing how these very specific, personal drives and character defects both shape and are shaped by events that play out on a grand scale in the worlds of diplomacy and finance. And Le Carre does an excellent job of using those grand-scale events as the backdrop for what are often very intimate tragedies and triumphs.

I especially like Brock, the customs agent running a network of what seem to be often irregular operatives against the “hydra” of government corruption. He fits a “bureaucratic hero” type that strongly appeals to me.

Why a TV show would be awesome:

Now more than maybe ever is a time when we could use a human angle on the kinds of financial and international events that play out in Single & Single. The average person today has a hard time putting the shadowy forces behind our current economic crises into any kind of a coherent, relatable context. We see the consequences for people on the ground who are suffering, and we have a vague idea of the kind of people at the top who are possibly to blame, but aside from viewing them as callous or detached greed robots, we don’t have a good basis for integrating them into this history we’re living. Tiger Single is not a good man, nor a sympathetic one, nor a charismatic antihero, but he is human, and that humanity is what makes him interesting.

In many ways, a Single & Single series could form a bridge between the kind of storytelling we saw on 24 and the kind we saw on West Wing. The intersection of conflict at the level of idea and value with conflict at the level of direct violence and personal loyalty and betrayal. If Homeland proves to be successful, I think that will demonstrate audience interest in this kind of approach.

The characters of Tiger and Oliver, and the Russian criminals (some sympathetic, some profoundly creepy) are all surprisingly substantial, and put together would provide enough material for a very nice ensemble cast — especially if Brock, his subordinates, and the network of corrupt officials he is hunting, were fleshed out — and there would be plenty of room to do so, and to allow the series to stretch over a semi-arbitrary number of seasons.

Why it will never happen:

People probably remember how tedious The Constant Gardner was.