State of Affairs: A Pastiche of Post-9/11 Television

I’m always excited when the televisual powers-that-be launch shows that fit nicely within my academic theories so this year’s debut of two new programs featuring crisis-averting political narratives about the “behind-the-scenes” actions of the White House thrilled me.  NBC’s State of Affairs debuted after CBS’s successful launch of Madame Secretary and therefore had a relatively high bar set for it.  So, I wasn’t necessarily surprised when it didn’t live up to the hype. 

I wanted to like the show.  As a longtime fan of Grey’s Anatomy, I still have a soft spot for Katherine Heigl and wanted to see her make a successful transition back to television and to drama after her last decade of unremarkable romantic comedies.  (Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen just about every one and tolerated them well enough, but still feel they did nothing to develop her acting career).  I wasn’t sure if I could buy her in this new role as Charleston Tucker, the president’s daily CIA briefer, but I was willing to try.  And, as I thought, it was hard narrative to swallow. 

In some ways the role isn’t unlike what she’s been playing lately as most of her romantic comedy roles find her playing a serious, uptight, smart (though oftentimes simultaneously ditzy) woman opposite a chauvinistic or buffoon-like male lead.  And so part of this new persona wasn’t too removed from all that as she again plays a professional, serious, female at odds with her male counterparts.  She also got to resurrect her role as a distraught romantic mourner (ala Grey’s Anatomy and the popular Denny Duquette storyline), as the pilot revealed that Charleston is not only the president’s briefer but she was also to be her daughter-in-law prior to her son’s sudden death (which occurred while they were all ambushed in a convoy in Kabul during a pre-election campaign circuit).

I almost gave up on the show after the first few episodes but I hung with it.  I still feel the acting is a bit strained and I don’t yet like the characters as much as I do those on the other new Fall programs I am following, but the plot is intriguing enough that I’m tuning in to see if could live up to its potential.  (For example, critics note that Alfre Woodard is being underutilized in her powerful role as the first black female president of the United States of America). 

In all truth, the show is really a collage of all the recent post-9/11 narratives, which makes it a bit unoriginal.  But, perhaps because I like all those shows State of Affairs is unabashedly borrowing from I’m able to enjoy it.  It’s episodic “national problem of the week” set-up is very similar to Madame Secretary and its pacing and attempt at filmic aesthetics reminds me of The Blacklist (especially with the start of each episode setting up the plot issue at hand).  The subplots about political power struggles mirror various moments from House of Cards.   The storyline concerning a mole within the counterterrorist unit recalls any given season of 24.   And the show is most definitely trying to add some soap operatic melodrama into its mix in ways that seem almost Scandal-esque.   But, most of all, the main plot parallels Showtime’s Homeland. 

There are echoes of Homeland’s Carrie Mathison (Claire Danes) in State of Affair’s Charleston.  While Carrie suffers from bipolar disorder, the first episodes show Charleston suffering from PTSD as she struggles to recall the events leading up to her fiancé’s death.  Both are even shown using a similar problematic coping mechanism:  alcohol-infused one night stands.  [Spoiler] Like Homeland, State of Affairs also focuses on the reliability of a CIA asset.  Three years prior to the narrative start of State of Affairs, Charleston’s off-the-books field work included attempting to turn a high profile terrorist, Omar Fatah (Farshad Farahat).    He was released with Charleston convinced that their “enhanced interrogation methods” had successfully worked, despite her partner (and later lover), Nick Vera (Chris McKenna), believing otherwise.  When it is revealed that Omar Fatah was present at the attack on the convoy, Charleston then feels all the more responsible for her fiancé, Aaron’s death.  This is further complicated when her memories return and she realizes that Fatah pulled her out of the convoy to safety and then shot Aaron in self-defense. 

I’m not sure I’m exactly endorsing this show, but I suppose if one didn’t have time to watch all the exemplary programs State of Affairs steals from that this could serve as a short cut substitute.  And, perhaps it will still grow into something of its own.

The most pressing question I was left with as I caught up this show that had been taking up room on my DVR, was the one I always wrestle with:  why are these post-9/11 political/governmental rescue shows so popular?  Their sheer numbers are impressive and the number of accolades some of them have acquired are equally so.  It’s a question that I’m not sure I can quite answer even on an individual level:  do I watch because I enjoy seeing how these shows fictionalize the everyday headlines (of debates concerning torture, privacy rights, drone strikes, and oil pipelines)?  Do I enjoy the catharsis of watching worst-case scenario perils thwarted by fictional political figures that often seem as corrupt and inept as our real ones?   Do I like their cooptation of the action genre or, in some cases, the postmodern genre blurring?   Despite their insistence that we’re a nation in perpetual danger, do I like the comfort they provide in promising that we’ll always overcome it?  Do I like their political critiques and attempts to provide exposure to geopolitical concerns?  Do I like that, in some small way, they don’t let us use entertainment as pure escapism as they conjure up recurring thoughts of the September 11^th attacks.

I’m not sure why I watch or why the masses watch, but I’ll keep trying to find the answer that satisfies me… even if it means watching Heigl wear pearls and red lipstick while playing one of the most prestigious intelligence-gathering figures.

What Showtime’s Homeland Reveals about the Post-9/11 Emotional Landscape & 21st Century Gender Portrayals

I have a dirty little secret:  I don’t have any premium cable pay stations.  I’m cheap, or, more accurately, perpetually broke – so that’s my excuse.  I’ve justified my practice of studying mostly network television because of its accessibility and it historical legacy (finding some interest in how the big three networks continue to evolve).  But as of late, this refusal to dish out the big bucks for Showtime and HBO seems like an extremely irresponsible decision for a television scholar.  As much as I hate to admit it, network television is declining and most of the stuff most worthy of analysis is to be found on those pay stations.

But I digress.  So, because of my frugal/income-deficient status, I am perpetually a season (at least) behind in most of the hip, cutting edge shows – watching them on delay via Netflix (on disc no less!).  This explains why I have just now completed the first two seasons of Homeland – a show I knew was extremely important that I follow as a post-9/11 television scholar. So, forever late to the party, I’m here finally to chime in on my thoughts on the show (or at least its first two seasons – so no spoilers please!)

I’ll start by saying I loved it.  I watched two seasons in the span of approximately two weeks.  I haven’t watched a show so quickly since I watched the first day of Jack Bauer’s televisual existence (when I watched all 24 hours of his life, season one of 24, practically in the “real time” the show offers).  It’s not unimportant that I obsessively consumed this show in the manner that I did 24, as I find them extremely similar.  They are both suspenseful, action-packed shows with similar content.   Both shows place viewers behind the scenes of governmental agencies tasked with stopping major terrorist attacks; they include storylines on marital strife and adultery; they place main characters in situations where they have to choose between the safety of loved ones and morally problematic acts; and they even sneak in annoying subplots involving the drama of teenage daughters. 

While I agree with other critics that Homeland is more psychologically centered and character driven – Carrie Matthison (Claire Danes), Nicholas Brody (Damian Lewis), and Saul Berenson (Mandy Patinkin) are among the best characters I’ve seen on television in the past few years – the overall similarities between Homeland and its predecessor make me feel that the show, however fabulous, is just a continuation of the slew of post-9/11 shows grounded in motifs of fear, salvation, and vengeance.  (For more on this wave, see my previous posts).

However, not all agree with me.  TV Guide’s Adam Bryant argued that Homeland is television’s first “post-post-9/11 show.”  In an interview with the show’s creators, Alex Gansa and Howard Gordon, the three compared the two programs.  Gansa said that 24 “was a response to the towers coming down” and “American taking action against enemies,” while Homeland is “a response to Osama bin Laden’s death” and “a psychological exploration of what this war on terror has meant to the United States” and the individuals involved in it.  Gordon added, "It's really about what we have to fear now that all the boogeymen of the last 10 years ... are no longer alive or in jail. We're left asking ourselves, 'What are we afraid of and what does that look like?' It doesn't mean there aren't things that are threatening us out there, but it does mean that those things are a little bit less obvious than we thought they were 10 years ago." 

And while I can see the slight difference that they make between the two shows, the result isn’t all too different.  And, if Homeland is a post-post-9/11 show running strong in 2014, what does it mean that 24 is returning this year after a four year hiatus (albeit in a supposed “limited run”)? Is this new 24 going to morph into a post-post-9/11 show as well? 

But if it is truly the psychological makeup of the characters that differentiates these shows, then I find myself agreeing with media reviewer, Jeff York’s suggestion that Carrie and Brody act as metaphorical embodiments of the emotional climate of America post-9/11:

If Carrie literally represents the bipolarity of America post 9-11, with our morality so often at odds with our need for safety, then the Brody character is a perfect mirror of that conflict too. For the first half of (season one) we were kept in the dark as to Brody’s true motivations. Was he an Al-Qaeda operative turned by torture, or was the real torturing being done at home, by a zealous CIA hounding him to hell? One of the brilliant things about the show is how it kept us guessing from scene to scene what Brody’s true motivations were, and empathizing with him the whole way…. Both Carrie and Brody are sides of post 9-11 America. We too have become overtly paranoid, partisan and reactionary. And yet, we are also trying to move on from those events, find peace and stave off the demons that have haunted us since.

As someone who reads contemporary television through two simultaneous lenses – as a post-9/11 and feminist media scholar – I also find myself wondering what these two characters reveal about 21^st century gender roles.

As I’ve noted before, television is offering some amazing female characters – complex, intelligent, successful, professional women in varied careers.  However, the programs that house these extraordinary characters still seem drawn to traditional melodramatic romance plots featuring star-crossed lovers like Carrie and Brody (or Scandal’s Olivia and Fitz, to give a similar example).  These storylines often undo the female protagonist, converting them into unstable, emotionally weak, women who come close to sacrificing their professional accomplishments and reputations because of the men they love.  Does this one element of the shows mean that we should discard everything else that is truly great about them?  Not necessarily.  However, it constantly makes me wonder:  have we really come that far in terms of gender portrayals?   When even the strongest women on television need to be saved (emotionally or physically by their male love interests), are these programs buying into the post-9/11 rhetoric that called for the revival of male cowboys and female damsels in distress?

Whether Carrie Mathison is a flawed feminist figure or not, I think she is a fascinating character, an intriguing portrayal of mental illness, and another one of Claire Danes’ fabulous performances.  I look forward to catching up to the rest of the viewing world soon and seeing what season three had in store for her.