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Monday, Nov 9, 2009
Mysteries and magic unfold on the renamed Syfy network, from the funny "Warehouse 13" to the charming "Eureka"
Jul 5, 2009 |
Mystery is a dying art. Holding on to your secrets during the digital revolution feels as antiquated and prudish as holding on to your virginity during the sexual revolution.
Not only is trying to keep your personal life private nearly impossible, but the whole concept of being a "private person" is patently outdated. What does it even mean? Not mentioning your tubal ligation on your Facebook page? Not tweeting about your disintegrating marriage?
Nothing is confidential anymore; those who'd like to pretend otherwise are greeted with suspicion and raised hackles. In an age when "community building" seems indelibly linked to casting your secrets into an unfathomable digital void, self-censorship can strike people as downright unneighborly. Information wants to be free, and no doubt about it, it's prepared to break your kneecaps and make a run for it if necessary.
Secrets to service
A stubborn desire to breathe new life into deep, dark secrets and long-protected mysteries lies at the heart of Sci Fi's "Warehouse 13" (premieres 9 p.m. on Tuesday, July 7), a drama series about a structure in the middle of the Badlands of South Dakota that's home to a vast collection of ancient treasures with mysterious powers. This is where some shadowy branch of the government keeps artifacts safe from the nefarious forces in the world that might use them to do evil.
That's right: "Warehouse 13" is about a place, filled with things -- not just things but secret things with invisible powers (that aren't digital). Have you ever heard of anything quite so old-fashioned in your life?
Two secret service agents, Myka (Joanne Kelly) and Pete (Eddie McClintock), certainly haven't. When they learn that they've been whisked away to this clandestine location so that they might spring into action each time some powerful tchotchke slips into the wrong hands, our heroes are less than enthused. Not only is the warehouse creepy and cluttered, but it's guarded by Artie Nielsen (Saul Rubinek), a scattered hippie-professor type who alternates between easygoing cookie baking and panicked rummaging through the relics in his care.
Of course, if "Warehouse 13" tried to tout itself as a sophisticated drama like "Fringe" or "Battlestar Galactica," it would fail miserably. You can't offer up an enormous storage space filled with old paintings and chalices and crystal balls and not make the mood a little goofy and retro. Luckily, everything, from the old-timey, staticky intercom device the agents use to communicate with Artie to the enormous, rusty warehouse itself (Is there anything more outdated than the warehouse, in this age of digital bartering?), offers little nudges and winks that we're not supposed to take these adventures too seriously; rather, we should enjoy them as sweet and light and faintly nostalgic, like a spirited mix of "The X-Files" and "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang."
In the first episode of "Warehouse 13," Myka and Pete investigate a particularly creepy case of assault that involves a good-natured college boy suddenly beating up his girlfriend while chanting ancient Italian texts. (Any time anyone starts chanting in Italian, you can assume that some satanic force is behind it.) The two agents uncover clues with the typical degree of misdirection: Could the boyfriend be evil? No, too obvious. How about the slightly evasive professor or that eerie rich lady with the jealous ring to her voice?
But crime solving is just one moving part in this strange invention, which feels a little awkward and hokey -- this is Sci Fi, after all -- but shifts gears pretty smoothly from kitschy to edgy to creepy and back again. Still, the whole mess threatens to fall from the sky at any minute despite a wide array of magic tricks: twists and turns, poignant back story, witty banter, awkward pauses, heartfelt exchanges. There are times when you have to question the writers' urge to pack in everything but the kitchen sink: Here's a mysterious death, followed by a joke, followed by an unnerving encounter, followed by some clever dialogue, followed by a disturbing hallucination. It's a little hard to know where this wild and bumpy ride is headed after a while.
Fortunately, Kelly and McClintock pull off their roles in this precarious high-flying adventure, teetering between heaviness and humor in each scene. Myka is your run-of-the-mill kick-ass female character, the likes of which were so rare just 10 years ago but now dominate the small screen, particularly during the summer months. Pete, on the other hand, is a new animal: half effective agent, half hapless boy. Most of the time, Pete feels like he wandered off the set of a broad comedy like "Old School" or "Knocked Up" and somehow wound up with a gun in his hand. In one of the last scenes of the first episode, when demons are running wild and madness is in the air and the whole thing is swerving dangerously close to dorky "Raiders of the Lost Ark" territory ("Indy, cover your heart!"), Pete gets so spooked that he tries desperately to play it off by joking around with the hypnotized zombies in his midst. The moment completely undercuts the drama of the scene, yet it's indescribably, stupidly funny.
But does it really work, just because we laughed? Sometimes comedy is just a convenient reset, like a stiff drink with your in-laws that smoothes the conversation but also fogs your memory of what was said. No wonder dramas without jokes are as outdated today as deep, dark secrets that have yet to be transformed into Twitter updates. Skim the summer schedule and you'll be hard-pressed to find a single drama that doesn't have a strong undercurrent of humor in it: "True Blood" without a sense of humor is just a bad B-movie that never ends. "Mad Men" without humor is just a disturbingly detailed flashback. "Burn Notice" without a sense of humor is "Miami Vice."
Are we too impatient and glib to stomach drama without comic relief? OK, I know I am, but are you?
