Fox’s 24 (2001-2010), along with other hit series like ABC’s Lost (2004-2010), changed viewers’ expectations
for network dramas. In the case of 24, the series provided viewers with a different viewing experience
with its filmic, action-packed sequencing and “real time” format. The narrative for each single season follows
a single day in the life of its protagonist, Jack Bauer (Keifer Sutherland), as
he struggles to save the world. This
show was the first of its kind to attempt real time delivery – breaking each
episode into one hour in the adventures of him and his colleagues at CTU (Los
Angeles’ Counter Terrorist Unit). Having one “day” as the center of a season’s
focus allows for various time manipulations and a different viewing experience. The one-day-a-season format allows for plot
compression – action, events, and conflict must unfold at rates beyond that of
a normal day and viewers are asked not only to suspend their disbelief but to
take this day as an exception that could happen somewhere behind the backdrops
of the real government in existence to protect them. But while compressing plot development –
speeding up action or packing thrills into a more concise segment – the show
actually stretches out a fictional time (one day in this case) in ways that
viewers are not used to – while the action is sped up, the time itself is
retarded to fit in all of the events.
The design of the show assists in
making this venture successful. Every
angle foregrounds this focus on time, and the fear of running out of it. The show’s logo is the ominous glowing digits
of the number 24, each episode begins with the tagline: “the events in this episode take place
between…” (showcasing fictional start and end times for the specific episode),
and all important scene breaks find themselves ending against the background
sound of the foreboding tick-tock – the show’s marker and thematic sound
effect.
Of course in all actuality the
program does not show its viewers a complete day in the life of Bauer or any
other character for that matter. The
narrative threads change frequently, usually focusing on a minimum of four
different storylines. So while the audience
can tag along on Bauer’s adventures usually for half of the time, the other
half is divided between his enemies, the plotting terrorist organizations,
sneak peeks behind the scenes of the White House administration, the
intelligence gathering work of his colleagues at the command center or in the
field, and, depending on the season, the perils of his own family members or
friends. The quick cuts between various
intersecting plots allow viewers to be privy to some information before the
show’s heroes, to try and unscramble the sinister plans before CTU does, and it
allows the audience to be in an interestingly voyeuristic position – seeing
things that should not be seen from many different perspectives. Each episode ends in a way that highlights
this multiple storyline focus and the fact that we never really know which plot
point is going to develop into the most important one. A few minutes before an episode’s end the
screen is split and filled with four different shots of action unfolding at
different locales and then one event is selected to finish off the show – the
infamous cliffhanger. Often this is a
shot of someone dying, a bomb beginning to countdown, or a mystery uncovered,
but – as intended – it is usually intriguing enough to allow viewers to eagerly
await the next hour… although it will take 167 of their own until it arrives. The temporal discord is important to
note. The show, operating under the
guise of real time narrative delivery, perpetuates the myth of temporal
continuity while jarring viewers with a rather profound gap between the time
they experience in their own lives as they watch the show and the time that
they will continue to experience during the hiatuses that exists between weekly
segments and season breaks. The promise
of real time is delivered (in mutated, commercial-filled form) for
approximately 45 minutes each week, but in all actuality this practice of the temporal
tease is actually delivering the opposite of what a show like 24
promises – it slows down time. Jack
Bauer’s day is actually retarded and stretched out in order to fulfill the
necessary requirements of program sequencing and network delivery. And, in multiple seasons, viewers are forced
(again despite the promise of real time continuity and temporal parallelism) to
experience the reverse and watch time be sped up as a new season of 24
will often find itself starting up in the fictional world months and/or years
from where the viewers left the imaginary scene the season before. However this temporal discord is played out,
the device is apparently quite enjoyable and has inspired many shows in its
aftermath to attempt such a temporal structure (e.g. Prison Break, Lost, Mixology).
24
also helped to disrupt televisual rules, such as “thou shall not kill off main
characters.” As is expected, Jack is
always successful in saving the world from peril. However, the first season schooled viewers
early that such heroism would not always come without a cost. The final episode ended in a scene
reminiscent of the final moments of the film Seven, where Jack (who had successfully prevented an assassination
attempt and rescued both his pregnant wife and teenage daughter from captivity)
walks into a holding room at his own work place to find that his wife’s throat
had been slit by his traitorous, double agent partner. The happy ending – the saved day – is undone
within the last 30 seconds of the episode.
Other shows have followed in step, making bold moves to unexpectedly
kill off main characters (e.g. Lost
was known for this practice early in its run as well, and kept viewers unnerved
by eventually even killing off the character whose flashbacks grounded the
individual episode that was showing).
In
its early years, 24 was also at the
forefront of programming that provided timely post-9/11 political critiques –
merging real news headlines concerning terrorism, torture, homeland security, and
foreign policy into its narrative. Since 24
went off the air in 2010, other shows have surfaced to do similar narrative
work: Showtime’s Homeland (2011-present), ABC’s Scandal
(2012-present), and Netflix’s House of
Cards (2013-present). With so many
shows giving viewers a fix of what 24 once
did (an action film in a televisual format; temporal play; narrative
complexity; political commentary), I was curious to see how Fox’s recent
miniseries, 24: Live Another Day,
would be received and what this limited run reboot would do the narrative
legacy it left behind four years ago.
The
ratings would deem this added season (although they are not calling it such) a
success. And, as I expected, the
potential of another miniseries or a movie offshoot is not off the table. As a fan of the original series, I found
myself once again enjoying the narrative pacing, the ability to binge multiple “hours”
at a time through delayed viewing, and the ways in which contemporary concerns
(foreign relations with the Middle East, China, and Russia; military defense
debates concerning drone programs; campaigns for information transparency, and
so forth) played out (hyperbolically) in the fictional world. But mostly I was interested in seeing how
this new run would pick up on old plots and relationships and in that way I was
not disappointed. [Spoiler Alert] Live Another Day brought Jack into
contact with his former love interest, Audrey Heller, and his old nemesis,
Cheng Zhi. Like the shocking first
season, this series ended with Audrey’s death (at Cheng’s extended hand) which
(although not at all shocking now that the show’s formulas are so well
established) gave the series the feeling of having gone full circle back to the
beginning. Her death during the last
fifteen minutes of the episode pretty much solidified the fact that Jack
himself would not die, although viewers might have been led to believe
otherwise. The pained look on Jack’s
face in this scene reminded me of that of Dexter’s in that series’ finale after
Deb died. It did not surprise me to
discover that the writers had toyed with killing off Jack because, like with
Dexter, it is hard to imagine that the series will ever end in a traditional
happy ending for a character who has perpetually played the suffering soul and
crossed so many moral lines. The
tightrope dance Jack does in terms of morality was displayed beautifully by the
juxtaposition of his last two scenes this season. In the first he decapitates Cheng after providing
the proof the Chinese government needed that he was alive (hence stopping a
war). And in the second he sacrifices himself to save his only friend, Chloe,
by surrendering himself to the Russians who have been hunting him for four
years. This scene where Jack is whisked away
on a helicopter was almost exactly the same as the end of season five where
Jack was carted away on a freight headed to China – another moment of déjà vu. But it was fitting that his last heroic
action was to save his friend – arguably one of the best characters on the show
– as their relationship has always been the one constant the strung the various
seasons together.
If
I was a betting media critic, I’d say that we haven’t seen the last of
Jack. I’m not sure that we still need Jack Bauer in 2014, and I’m not
sure that any additional runs of 24 will
provide us with anything we haven’t seen before, but there is comfort in the
familiar, in the nostalgia, and the escapism of believing the world will always
saved by a little rouge vigilante justice, so I’ll watch the next round when it
comes out.
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