Let's Talk About “The Residence” and the Viewing Experience

by

Scott D. Parker

Just over three weeks ago, Netflix dropped the eight-episode series “The Residence” (not “The Resident” so don’t let your phone autocorrect). It’s a funny, quirky, delightful, highly entertaining whodunnit set in the White House during a state dinner when the head usher is found murdered.

And the show wears its influences on its sleeve. Each of the episodes is titled after an older story/book/movie. The characters even namedrop famous detectives. And, of course, the story centers on a unique detective.

Cordelia Cupp, played by Uzo Aduba, is brought in by the Metropolitan police to solve the case. She’s a birder and brings her patient, no-BS style of investigation to the most found house in America. She’s not what anyone suspects a detective should be, which enables her to keep everyone off balance.

And by everyone, I mean the stellar cast. Randall Park’s “Watson” who goes along with Cupp and rarely knows the right thing to say. Jason Lee’s wonderful performance that seems to channel his characters from those Kevin Smith films, reminding everyone just how funny and acerbic he can be. The understate Giancarlo Esposito, who, as head usher, is more than a mere victim. And so many more. Excellent casting.

Interspersed into the main state-dinner scenes are flash-forward scenes of a congressional hearing (chaired by Al Franken) about the murder. The editor must have had a field day putting this together (or many, many late nights) but the quick cuts usually serve as punchlines to setups.

I do not binge TV. I prefer to watch my shows at a leisurely pace, often watching a single episode per week. When my wife and I opted to try out the first episode, we became so hooked that, four hours later, I surrendered to tiredness and had to go to bed. But I didn’t want to. For a traditional TV watcher like me, that is a big deal.

Which brings me to how it is being presented.

It’s a Netflix show, so first of all, thank you, Netflix, for greenlighting this show; thank you, Shanda Rhimes, for getting it up and running, and thank you Paul William Davies for writing the show. I look forward to a new season next spring.

But I wonder if this show might’ve caught a little bit of a zeitgeist if it had been presented weekly. It would have had a chance to breath, maybe get mentioned on SNL, and maybe had more blogs talk about how good it is. It could build up a head of steam and get more casual viewers who happened to hear about it in the office kitchen.

Still, it’s a wonderful way to spend 8.5 hours (the last episode is nearly ninety minutes). I rarely re-watch a TV show, but I’ll be re-watching this one as we wait for season two.

Review: Catching Killers on Netflix

 

Investigators of the Green River Killer murders.

By Claire Booth

There is a lot of junk out there when it comes to true crime TV shows—sensationalized, melodramatic, populated with extraneous experts. And don’t get me started on the cheesy reenactments. So on the rare occasion I find something that’s quality, I’m delighted.

Netflix has one I just found. Catching Killers. It’s a ho-hum title, but the show is very good. Each episode takes a serial murder case and interviews the investigators who caught the killer. Archival footage is used to great effect, and the interviews are spare and often brutal in their emotional honesty. These investigators often went through hell and even years later, it shows.

The series starts with a big one, and one coincidentally one that has always had a big impact on me—The Green River Killer. Gary Ridgeway was convicted of murdering 48 women in the Seattle area, although he eventually placed his own count at 71 victims. He had been one of several suspects over the years, but authorities could never pin anything down. Their interviews for the Netflix show lay bare how helpless they felt as young women continued to be found dead and the public continued to justifiably panic.

In the late ’90s, I worked for a newspaper in the area south of Seattle; my office was steps away from the Green River. Although no murders had been attributed to the Green River Killer for many years, the case still haunted the area that I covered as a reporter. About a year and a half after I moved out of state, authorities finally had the technology to test years-old hair and saliva samples. It matched DNA evidence from the crimes and Ridgeway was arrested in Renton, one of the cities I covered when I worked there. I won’t lie—I always wished I’d still been working there to cover the story, but mostly I’m just glad they caught the guy.

Other cases featured on the show include BTK, the Phoenix Serial Shooter, and Aileen Wuornos. But the episodes are not about the killers. They’re about how investigators solved the cases and the toll it took on them. It’s a high quality take on often rehashed crimes, and I recommend it. 

 

 

 

The Review, Part Deux--Netflix's Lupin is Back

 

First rule of successful plotting: always include a dog.

By Claire Booth

Back in February, I reviewed Lupin, a French thriller series that was showing on Netflix. That was five episodes of perfection that Netflix called Part 1. The next five installments (or Part 2) were released in June. And I’m delighted to say they were just as entertaining.

Omar Sy stars as Assane Diop, whose Senegalese immigrant father gets a job as chauffeur for a wealthy businessman. Things end badly, Assane grows up vowing revenge and sets out to accomplish it in the manner of his literary hero, the gentleman thief Arséne Lupin. I can’t say enough about Sy, who is perfectly cast. Suave with thievery, uncertain with his family; towering over everyone in size but able to use a lithe chameleon-ness to disappear. He makes it believable that he can bend circumstances to his will.

The story picks up right where it left off and races on from there. The problems get worse and the stakes get higher, which is as it should be in a thriller. The pacing, which I admired in Part 1, is substantially the same. The set pieces weren’t quite as jaw dropping as before (how can you top crashing a car into the Louvre?), but you do get a fun extended scene in another iconic Parisian location. I won’t spoil it by telling you which one. 

There are beautiful women over 40! Gasp!

I will divulge that the evil businessman’s daughter plays a bigger part in these episodes than she did in the first ones. This is a huge deal, but not for a plot reason. She’s gorgeous (see above), but she is also allowed to look her actual age. That’s 41. There’s even a streak of gray in her hair. And she’s the love interest. If this were an American show, it would be a 25-year-old who unrealistically captivates the hero. Clearly, the French have a thing or two to teach us about age-appropriate casting. (And fashion, and food, and . . . but I digress.)

Part 2 wraps up many but not all of the plot points. That’s no surprise—they have to leave some things for the next season. With something this successful, it’s almost certain that Netflix will give us one. 

This one does look like a superhero rip-off, I admit, but it's still pretty cool looking. One last thing: watch it in French with subtitles. You can switch out of the dubbed English in your Netflix settings. It's so much better in French.

 

Lupin—c'est fantastique

By Claire Booth

Netflix has been upping its global game lately, and I don't mean by exporting American entertainment to more and more places. I mean by exposing Americans to more and more international content. Hooray! 

I'm here today to enthusiastically endorse Lupin, the French limited series thriller that pays homage to the great French books of that name about a “gentleman thief.” It’s also suave, sexy, fun, and paced as well as anything I’ve seen in a long time. Sure, it sometimes stretches the bounds of plausibility, but what heist movie or book doesn’t?

Omar Sy stars as Assane Diop, whose father, a Senegalese immigrant, gets a job as chauffeur for a wealthy businessman. Things end badly, and Assane grows up vowing revenge. Not guns-blazing revenge; that’s not his style. Instead, he molds himself into the hero of his favorite childhood books, Arséne Lupin. (Tip for those who, like me, didn’t take French in high school: it’s pronounced Lou-PAN.) Lupin was the refined burglar and master of disguise who could solve any problem and steal any object.

Sy has been some English-language movies, including Jurassic World, and X-Men: Days of Future Past. The magnetic French native is truly at home here on the streets of Paris, whether it’s outside a tenement or in the courtyard of the Louvre. And I love that he’s of African descent. The casting of Sy adds a whole other rich layer to the show, with the problems of class and race that exist in French society. Plus, he’s perfect for the part – meticulous yet mischevious, and with a cat-burglar grace that not a lot of tall men can pull off.

The Arséne Lupin series by Maurice Leblanc, featuring the exploits of the “gentleman thief,” began in 1905 and lasted for 23 books. In other words, there’s plenty of material to inspire Sy’s character for many seasons to come. And based on Netflix’s assertion that more than 70 million people worldwide have at least started to stream an episode (which is more than even other hits like Tiger King or The Umbrella Academy), it seems likely the company will keep it going.

In fact, the second part of Season One (i.e. the other five-episodes of the ten that have been shot), will be released on Netflix sometime this summer, the streaming service said last week. Don’t wait that long to start. Watch it now. It’s perfect how’s-he-going-to-pull-it-off escapism for the dreary days of winter.

And don’t make the mistake I did. I just clicked play and it came through dubbed into English. Horrible. Bad voice acting in addition to the usual awfulness of the lips you see moving not matching the words you’re hearing. Switch to the French with subtitles. It’s less distracting that way, I swear. And more – how should I say? – l’original est magnifique.

 

Review: Dead to Me

By Claire Booth

I sat down to watch Dead to Me recently, the Netflix limited series starring Christina Applegate. I thought it looked interesting when I first heard about it—a woman tries to cope after her husband is killed in a hit-and-run car accident. But instead of a meditation on grief, I got a masterpiece of suspense. Ten episodes of perfection, each a perfectly paced jewel.

Applegate is amazing—fully adult in a way most roles don’t let her be. She’s allowed to look all of her beautiful, lined, lived-in 47 years. And she gets to be a realistic woman—you know, complicated. Funny, sarcastic, loving, furious. Desperate to help her kids. Desperate to track down who killed her husband. Desperate not to be weighed down by a woman she meets at a grief support group.

That’s really what kicks things off, and the other woman, Linda Cardellini, becomes more of a friend than Applegate’s character could ever imagine. Cardellini’s character is as complex as it gets. She does everything a good character is supposed to do. She evolves. She surprises. She makes you unsure whether you love or hate her.

These two women drive the story, and it’s a joy to watch them tear through such an expertly crafted plot. They’re supported by a love interest played by the terrific Brandon Scott and a mother-in-law played by Valerie Mahaffey, one of my all-time faves.

And then there’s James Marsden, the boyfriend. He’s great, but I’d love this casting for the irony alone. Marsden’s often been pigeon-holed in exactly the sort of way women usually are. A beautiful face given one-dimensional roles. He’s more than just eye candy here, because no character is relegated to cookie-cutter status.

Honestly, there isn’t a single one-note character in the whole series. (Wait, I take that back. Ed Asner. He’s a one-note old guy in a nursing home. But hey, he’s Ed Asner. He’s given us enough notes over the years. He’s earned an easy paycheck.)

That’s the sign of a deft and confident vision, and that’s thanks to show creator Liz Feldman, a comedian who’s written for 2 Broke Girls, Ellen, and other shows. She doesn’t condescend to her characters or her viewers, and I hope that this is the first in a long string of huge successes for her.

Bundy's Back, Baby

Awhile back the sparse details of the Zac Efron fronted Ted Bundy move came out and I wrote a little about my concerns here at DSD. Reading that, you may have thought I had no intention of giving the movie a fair pass, but the trailer came out today and...

Fuck me, it actually looks good. Like, really good. The title is still absolutely stupid, but I'm a little excited to see this. My big concern with the movie is the same thing that excites me - and its that it's going to show Bundy as the charmer, the loving boyfriend and father figure. On the one hand, stuff like this can serve a purpose. Elizabeth Kloepfer probably stayed up nights wondering how she let this man into her life, into her daughter's life. People in the circle of monstrous criminals are often saddled with an unfair guilt. I like the idea of showing how even the people Bundy was kind and loving to were victims.

What I don't like is the uncomfortable knowledge that, as I predicted in the first post, this will almost certainly revive the Ted Heads. Ted Bundy fan girls have existed from the moment he was arrested. Everything from women who believed his innocence to women who were seduced by the knowledge he was a killer. The younger Ted Heads bother me on a deeper level though. He's been dead longer than most of the young women who see the movie because Zac Efron is hot and it looks entertaining have been alive. He'll be a character like Joe on Netflix's YOU. While everyone was writing think pieces about whether  its okay to have a crush on the character, the main element was often forgotten. Joe is a character. He's not real, his crimes never happened, and his victims didn't exist. Ted Bundy is real. People affected by his crimes are real. The little girl in the movie, that he raised as his own daughter - she's real. 

I don't have a profound statement to make on why that should matter to the masses, and it's definitely not a call to pass on the film (I'm going to see it), but I'd like it so much if we started treating true crime a little more carefully.