Nip/Tuck and the dark side of cable
I have been known to argue that we are in a golden age of television, that the last ten years or so have seen an amazing resurgence in the quality of programming due to the emergence of cable as a viable storytelling format. Indeed, I spent a good hour saying this with Will and Freddie in this podcast. During that podcast I also called out Nip/Tuck— FX’s plastic surgery drama, which enjoyed its seventh, and final, season premiere last night — as a lesser, but still enjoyable, portion of the TV boom.
It’s certainly enjoyable; I’ve watched every season so far and have no plans to stop now. In a way, though, Nip/Tuck is representative of the darker side of the cable explosion. Whereas shows like The Sopranos or The Wireused their newfound freedom (with language, violence, nudity, and season lengths) to explore whole new worlds and dig deep into their character’s psyches, Nip/Tuck is content to use these freedoms for little more than shock value. Near-nudity is used to titillate, violence is used to deliver a healthy dose of gore, the same plotlines are recycled over and over again — Nip/Tuck is essentially the cable version of a soap opera.
And that would be fine if it wasn’t for the fact that I get the distinct feeling that series creator Ryan Murphy thinks he has something really deep to say. For example, in the season premiere (slight spoiler ahead, though you can see where the episode’s going from the get-go) doctors and Christian Troy and Sean McNamara are awarded a lifetime achievement award from their alma mater for their groundbreaking work in plastic surgery; after discovering that the award was bought and paid for by Christian, Sean smashes the crystal award with a mallet. As the shards are hauled away, one falls out where a patient with a penchant for self-mutilation finds it and uses it to carve up his own face — the same face that Sean had just fixed and took as a sign that he was doing good work, work worthy of being recognized.
Symbolism!!
I mean, c’mon. Give us a little credit as intelligent members of your audience. You don’t have to throw a Drudge Siren up if you want us to understand the deep emotional entanglements these two complicated doctors have. And don’t patronize us by trying to make us think you have something important to say in an episode that included Sean’s aborted entry into the mile high club and the 40+ year old Christian playing strip poker and doing bong hits with two 18 year old coeds. If you want to go the soap opera route, that’s fine: Just don’t try and gussy it up in the meanwhile.