The discussion of the "Open House" episode of American Horror Story has inspired me to take real, serious issue with Simon Abrams for perhaps the first time. Let me begin the process of ripping and tearing without further delay...
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Simon,
We have often disagreed about individual moments or overall
effects or even thematic strands as they have come about in American Horror Story, but that’s what
should happen as we look over this show closely together. We have never gotten
angry when those disagreements come about, and when someone gets their toes
stepped on there’s a modicum of mutual respect that shifts into gear which I
have been very grateful for which has kept things civil and productive.
Until now, that is.
Until now, that is.
You’re not from California, are you, Simon? Used to be no
one was from here. Writers and film critics came here to escape their past,
their dead-end prospects, dreaming of glory and love and money in the movie
capital of the world, looking for that one great idea that not even the
grossest hack screenwriter had come up with to ride wet all the way into the sunset.
But now there are no more virgin ideas-- we live on top of each other,
cannibalizing plots good and bad from every nook and cranny and dusty basement
of film history, or jostling the ghosts of critics far more powerful and
renowned than we’ll ever be, just to find a little patch of the conversation we
can call our own. This is California now, and New York too. There are no more new
ideas, and yet it’s human nature to want to stitch something together that’ll
pass for new and make great claims for one’s originality, or one’s ability to
disguise one’s “inspirations.” So write away we do. And every time you write up
one of these dismissive, monstrous temples to Manny Farber that you call
episode recaps, YOU’RE BUILDING ON TOP OF SOMEONE ELSE’S LIFE!!!!!! A LITTLE
RESPECT, PLEASE!!!!
Okay, I can’t sustain this any longer. I thought about making this my entire post, but I just can’t go through with it. But I got ya, just for a second, didn’t I? Come on. Tell me I got ya for just a second. It’ll make me sleep better.
In case it’s now clear to everyone here, I was not poking fun at my pal Simon, whose ability to crystallize his reaction to even a lackluster episode like “Open House” is to be admired and celebrated, not shunned and denigrated in the manner of Constance’s high and mighty smack down of “greasy” Persian—whoops, Armenian—real estate developer Joe Escandarian, which takes places in the breakfast nook of his garish faux European manse, all the better to facilitate maximum sneerage. (In case it's still unclear, it was that smack down speech I was parodying in my "attack" on Simon above.) It does strike me as the slightest bit odd, Constance waxing on about having respect for the past, when it’s the past that so tightly has her, and all those living and dead who are still swirling about the Murder House, in its grasp. A question that has arisen for me as I watched this episode and the previous entry, ”Piggy, Piggy,” both episodes that I had never seen until these past two weeks (I’d seen the rest of the show before you and I started this endeavor), is just what Constance’s role was conceived to be and how it is playing out. Because frankly, in this episode particularly, the way Constance is integrated into the action of the various subplots, her presence strikes me as a far more passive figure than I had ever before recognized. She seemed a much more interesting character to me when we weren’t entirely clear on what she meant to everything that was going on around her.
Of course she’s directly responsible for Moira being trapped
in the house, and her sparring with the maid has made for some very entertaining
opportunities for Jessica Lange and Frances Conroy as actresses. And of course
I bought the Constance/Addy relationship to a far greater degree than you did,
though I appreciate greatly your pointing out that its ultimate resolution,
through Billie Dean, the medium who arranges for the spectral mother/daughter resolution
that (apparently) seals the subplot involving the two of them, is on the pat
side. But other than these incidents, I’m
a little disappointed that we don’t see Constance in there getting her hands
dirty of late, and it makes me wonder if her role as conceived is really primarily
that of a facilitator, or more accurately an enabler of evil, as opposed to
someone who has fully bought into the house’s agenda. She manipulates Moira
into the sexual maiming of Escandarian who, like all the men in this show who
indulge their sleazy horndog fantasies, apparently deserves his fate, but when
it comes down to the actual killing and disposal of the body, it’s good old
Larry who does the deed.
And speaking of Larry, your complaint about the lack of groundwork being laid in his “relationship” with Constance, which is similar to the one you raised about Constance and Addy, is spot on regarding this situation. I suspect that time constraints may have had something to do with the fact that their subplot seems severely truncated, with all the actual respect (there’s that word again) and attraction that must have been between them at some point getting the ax, which only points up that the whole notion of Larry and Constance having a connection is on the level of plot development only and has no real greater meaning. Falchuk (who wrote this spinning wheel of an episode) and Murphy might term the dismissal of the real meat of the relationship, whether rooted in practicality or not, as falling under their “policy of benign neglect,” the typically overarticulated gripe that Violet lays at her parents’ feet when they express concern over her weak appetite and generally depressed behavior. I’m beginning to believe it’s also one that the two of them operate on more often than not.
And speaking of Larry, your complaint about the lack of groundwork being laid in his “relationship” with Constance, which is similar to the one you raised about Constance and Addy, is spot on regarding this situation. I suspect that time constraints may have had something to do with the fact that their subplot seems severely truncated, with all the actual respect (there’s that word again) and attraction that must have been between them at some point getting the ax, which only points up that the whole notion of Larry and Constance having a connection is on the level of plot development only and has no real greater meaning. Falchuk (who wrote this spinning wheel of an episode) and Murphy might term the dismissal of the real meat of the relationship, whether rooted in practicality or not, as falling under their “policy of benign neglect,” the typically overarticulated gripe that Violet lays at her parents’ feet when they express concern over her weak appetite and generally depressed behavior. I’m beginning to believe it’s also one that the two of them operate on more often than not.
There really isn’t a whole lot left to discuss about this
episode, in my view, before moving on to the “Rubber Man” episode (which may be
occasion for further complaining, as it was my least favorite episode of the
ones I originally saw several months ago—but I’ll wait and watch it again
before I get too comfortable in the land of moaning and groaning). However, you
used the word “crass” in your last post to describe American Horror Story, and though I don’t think I’d agree across the
board, there are elements within this episode in particular that I think
definitely qualify. I’m thinking of a minor violation like Larry describing to
Ben his desire to buy the house, his need
of the house—“That is the only place I have any hope to ever be happy again…”
Cut to Ben looking suspiciously intrigued, strings building to a crescendo on
the soundtrack, cut back to Larry as he leans in toward Ben and the camera. “…with
her.” (I blame the over-the-top
antics of the writer and the director-- Tim Hunter-- for making me actively dislike
Denis O’Hare here for the first and perhaps only time in this series.)
But I’m even more put off by the continued reappearances of Marcy,
the real estate hag who shows up with the increasing regularity of an unwelcome pop-up
mole, for the express purpose of delivering id-inspired epithets and various other
clueless observations that are meant to peg her for some all-too-easy comic
relief. Murphy has gone on in interviews (some of which can been seen on the
Season One American Horror Story
Blu-ray release) about how he and Falchuk “fell in love with Marcy” and began looking
for ways to get her into episodes, ostensibly because they found the actress
who plays her, Christine Estabrooke, to be so hilarious as to warrant extra
attention. But, gentlemen, we’re a long way from discovering what Jessica Lange
brings to the table and writing Constance into a major presence on the show because
of that. No, Marcy, who we’re told in a previous episode lives in a studio
apartment in the Valley (all the derision Westsiders like Murphy and Falchuk
need muster, I’m afraid), is simply a vehicle for, yes, M& F’s crass,
camp-laced putdowns of the sort of fearful flyover sensibility that Marcy
supposedly represents. I’ve grown weary of the sort of knowing shocker like the
one that Marcy lets slip when she’s showing the house to Escandarian for the
first time—“Everything was meticulously restored by a couple of the previous homos—owners—home
owners.” (Cue wide-eyed vaudevillian look of horror on Marcy’s face, followed
by a scramble for dignified regrouping.)
Truthfully, Estabrooke isn’t quite the top-flight comedienne Murphy and Falchuk seem to think she is—every lame line so far has been visible coming a mile and a half down Van Nuys Boulevard, and each one lands with an overemphatic thud punctuated by a none-too-subtle smirk. However much that flyover sensibility may deserve those putdowns, a cheap joke, cheaply delivered, is still a cheap joke. And they don’t come any cheaper than a hilarious tag line that Marcy delivers to Vivien, with whom she’s taking the Murder House tour--“Let’s not put that on the listing”—which completely deflates the horror of having just seen Nora kill Charles and then blow her own brains out in black-and-white flashback. So even when M&F don’t look away from ghastly circumstances (a decision I respected and you didn’t in “Piggy, Piggy”) the result can still be an unpleasant, tone-deaf aftertaste.
Truthfully, Estabrooke isn’t quite the top-flight comedienne Murphy and Falchuk seem to think she is—every lame line so far has been visible coming a mile and a half down Van Nuys Boulevard, and each one lands with an overemphatic thud punctuated by a none-too-subtle smirk. However much that flyover sensibility may deserve those putdowns, a cheap joke, cheaply delivered, is still a cheap joke. And they don’t come any cheaper than a hilarious tag line that Marcy delivers to Vivien, with whom she’s taking the Murder House tour--“Let’s not put that on the listing”—which completely deflates the horror of having just seen Nora kill Charles and then blow her own brains out in black-and-white flashback. So even when M&F don’t look away from ghastly circumstances (a decision I respected and you didn’t in “Piggy, Piggy”) the result can still be an unpleasant, tone-deaf aftertaste.
I’m through with the Eternal Darkness tour plot contrivance
too. Not only does it contribute far too willingly to the smirking tone the
show tends to indulge in these episodes toward gruesome carnage, but it is also
only functional, and annoyingly so. Yes, Vivien should be interested in finding
out everything that has happened in the house before she palms it off on the
next buyer, who if she has her way will be considerably less unsuspecting than
she and Ben were. But her mode of investigation, instead of scrupulous research
in a library or, perhaps, the Internet, is instead this sleazy tour? A tour which,
God knows, probably delivers only
factual information approved by local historians and news information outlets and
not just grue-amplified anecdotes meant to shock the vanloads of unwashed-- among
whom Marcy fits in just perfectly, thank you-- that have plunked down their
dollars to get a frisson of fright off the misfortune of others? And speaking
of the misfortune of others, maybe it’s only because I’m currently knee-deep in
Vincent Bugliosi’s Outrage: The Five
Reasons Why O.J. Simpson Got Away with Murder, but I call foul on the inclusion
of a stop at Bundy Drive on the murder tour seen here. I’m just not ready to
see this particular real-life outrage, around which there swirls no mystery or
particularly grotesque fascination, turned into lip-smacking fodder for a (very
entertaining) fictional freak show. The Eternal Darkness Tour was a good way to
initially pique Vivien’s awareness, but going to this well more than once is a
bad idea.
I’ll return with a recap of episode seven, “Rubber Man,”
next! I can’t blame the crippling headache I’m enduring this weekend on “Open
House,” but it sure hasn’t helped. I’ll take extra Advil before I check in
again, because I think I might need ‘em. By the way, I miss Hayden. I sure hope
she comes back soon…
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"OPEN HOUSE" POST #1
"PIGGY, PIGGY" POST #4
"PIGGY, PIGGY" POST #3
"PIGGY, PIGGY" POST #2
"PIGGY, PIGGY" POST #1
"HALLOWEEN, PT. 2" POST #1
"HALLOWEEN, PT. 2" POST #2
"HALLOWEEN, PT. 2" POST #3
"HALLOWEEN, PT. 2 POST #4
"HALLOWEEN, PT. 1" POST #1
"HALLOWEEN, PT. 1" POST #2
"HALLOWEEN, PT. 1" POST #3
"HALLOWEEN, PT. 1" POST #4
"MURDER HOUSE" POST #1
"MURDER HOUSE" POST #2
"HOME INVASION" POST #1
"HOME INVASION" POST #2
"HOME INVASION" POST #3
"HOME INVASION" POST #4
PILOT EPISODE POST #1
PILOT EPISODE POST #2
PILOT EPISODE POST #3
PILOT EPISODE POST #4
PILOT EPISODE POST #5
PILOT EPISODE POST #6
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