The Lowdown

15

Everything about this series is literary. Despite not really being literary in the sense it isn’t based on a book. Though it certainly feels like it. And the main character, Lee Raybon (Ethan Hawke), owns a bookstore. And he and several others in the series are chasing down a bunch of Jim Thompson crime fiction novels as part of a plot that feels not unlike something from Thomas Pynchon. But through a Coen Brothers lens. To say that Lee Raybon doesn’t, in several ways, resemble “The Dude” from The Big Lebowski would be overlooking the obvious. Stoned and kind of aimless, but principled and living by an ethos only he really understands. A man who falls ass-backwards into a situation that is bigger than him that he thinks he can control, but mostly ends up getting beat up and manipulated by the very people he thinks he’s investigating. And the femme fatale, of course.

Point is, this has all the hallmarks of a classic crime fiction novel. Though the level of meta is pretty heavy, what with Hawke’s character being a fan of the genre and his owning a bookstore that houses said novels. It’s a writerly thing, I imagine, that is intentional and conscious by the series creator, Sterlin Harjo. Coming off Reservation Dogs, it’s a bit of a departure. It feels much more old-fashioned and traditional in its storytelling. Not in a bad way, but it just doesn’t have the more modern, coming-of-age themes of youth and discovery. It’s a tale of a man in middle-age trying to leave a legacy for his daughter and put his mark, in some small way, on the world. Through his writing, of course. Writing that appears in a local free tabloid in Tulsa, Oklahoma that, but most accounts, is pretty overwrought, but seeks to expose the lives of local scions and rich guys. His latest article is one about the Washberg family, and it’s touched a nerve. Nobody is going to come pee on his rug, but they might as well have. Instead, the suicide of Dale Washberg (Tim Blake Nelson) after the article is published kicks off a series of moves that entangle Lee, as he attempts to do a follow-up to his first Washberg article, convinced that Dale’s death wasn’t a suicide, but a murder. He sticks his nose in where it’s clearly not wanted, which leads to him constantly being punched in and around the face. Hawke spends the entirety of the series with various black eyes and cuts and abrasions across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. But, like The Dude, is somehow almost a passive participant in his own beatings. Seems he’s a lover, not a fighter.

The show pretty much goes on in this fashion. Lee is half detective, half reporter and like 30% dude on the edge of dirtbag (which includes a large “ironic” Confederate flag tattoo on his arm). Surrounding his investigation of Dale’s murder is a group of skinheads, a creepy white nationalist church, Dale’s powerful brother, Donald (Kyle MacLachlan), who is running for governor, and Dale’s widow, Betty Jo (Jeanne Tripplehorn), the aforementioned femme fatale. Helping him along the way is his reluctant sherpa, Marty (Keith David), a man who seems to actually value Lee’s weird, unrelating need to care. And even Killer Mike makes an appearance as the somewhat shady owner of the free tabloid Lee writes for — a business Mike seems to only run in order to make money from unsavory advertisers. He keeps giving Lee guns to protect himself, but it seems Lee is the only person in Oklahoma who doesn’t have a taste for or knowledge of firearms. A lover, not a shooter. I’m sure there’s a literary character on which Lee is based — with his mixture of masculinity and absolute adherence to an almost Larry David level of grievance — but, beyond The Dude, he does feel like a certain archetype we’ve seen before. That person who, in reality, might come off as kind of a jerk at times, but you can’t help but root for in his somewhat misplaced righteousness. We can see this push and pull in his ex-wife’s (Kaniehtiio Horn) concern and affection for him, and his daughter’s (Ryan Kiera Armstrong) eventual understanding that his half of the parenting paradigm is atypical and not necessarily what she’s looking for, but adheres to his belief that his job is to launch her into the world with a strong sense of right and wrong. He’s a flawed vessel, but, like some of our best comic anti-heroes, he’s trying.

The actual plot is a little convoluted and, frankly, a little over-complicated for a tale that really could have been more straight-forward. That’s the Pynchon of it all. But, like a lot of Coen screenplays, the resolution turns out to be way less than the sum of its parts. Because, of course, the mystery wasn’t really what was at the heart of the thing. Yeah, she wasn’t missing after all, she was just… out of town! It’s not all quite that silly, but Harjo does actually do the thing that does happen in a lot of crime novels, where everything just kind of reaches a head, we find out what happens to our protagonist and then the author just summarizes the mystery at the end. I’d call it half a yada-yada. In this case we literally get Lee reading his published article, which puts everything that’s happened in the series in a nice, neat package. It’s a little bit of a cop out, but it works in the very traditional way these types of things work. Just ask The Coens.

Thing is, I appreciate the attempt here. An original story, not based on pre-existing IP and coming out of one man’s brain. Not sci-fi. Not post-apocalyptic. Not overly serious about itself. But also knowingly loves and appreciates its characters. Characters that are cast perfectly. Hawke is just made for this part. His perfectly weathered face, graying goatee, imperfect teeth and just general physicality reads stoner who owns a musty bookstore and wears a hat that he thinks makes him look like a serious author. His acting is incredibly naturalistic, and he can be very funny. It almost feels like if Lee wasn’t him that this show would have failed. I can’t even imagine anyone else playing the part. Paul Sparks has apparently cornered the market on creepy, religious dudes. Keith David is that perfect comic foil to help ground Lee’s, uh, floatiness, and it’s good to see Jeanne Tripplehorn get to actually act and be sexy and funny and ridiculous in a way her recent turn in the awful The Terminal List did not. I’m hoping this pretty amazing role for her turns into something sustainable. Hollywood, may I suggest she show up in a meaty role as Demi Moore‘s ballsy sister on Landman? I think we all need that. Even Kyle MacLachlan — who can sometimes appear a little wooden and/or unhinged — manages to both dial it up and dial it back in a role where he looks like the bad guy, but is actually maybe the good guy. He’s terrific. As is the entire supporting cast of unknowns and semi-knowns. Overall, the writing and acting is really the focus here. The plot and the storytelling does run out of runway and wane and meander at times — and you can see this in Harjo’s little side-quest episodes with extremely fun, but cul-de-sac’ed guest stars Tisha Campbell and Peter Dinklage — but that’s just kind of how these character-based series go. The crime and the mystery is really just a way to string together scenes where our actors get to interact and, ultimately, get Hawke socked in the face. It’s not always the hard-driving crime fiction you might want, but this show is certainly a good hang and worthwhile if nothing more than a showcase for some actors who deserve a script seemingly worthy of their talents.