Direction—Does your Story Have It?

 

This past week, Netflix announced the cancellation of five original series. Sadly my new favorite, Shadow and Bone was at the top of the list. Honestly I didn’t read much further. 

 

There were a lot of challenges for SaB. It's a big story with a huge cast set in a fantasy land. Think Game of Thrones, (set in late 19th century Europe) but a lot less savagery. No CGI dragons or white walkers but gorgeous sets, sumptuous costumes, and clearly-not-back-lot locations. All together it was a big draw for me and, no doubt, countless others. 

We certainly do!

But, yeah, NOT cheap. Of course dual strikes did nothing to help. *Note* I’m pro-union, I support and believe in the courage of WGA and SAG-AFTRA members. No, I think the biggest issue with SaB was the second season. 

 

*Spoilers*

 

Seasons one embodied the word “want.” Alina Starkov, (Jessie Mei Li) is an army mapmaker with a secret. She must brave that secret to save her childhood bestie, Mal, (Archie Renaux) an army scout, in front of the frontline. 

Alina REALLY wants to save Mal.

On the other side of a deadly darkness, gang-leader Kaz, (Freddy Carter) has one hope and he’ll move heaven/earth to free his true love, Inej, (Amita Suman) from indentured servitude—and for a shot at revenge. 

But, yeah, mostly for revenge...

Then there is General Kirigan, (Ben Barnes) who wants control over a power that can literally change the map for good and strip him of his tyrannical hold on power.

"Nothing untoward, my dear. I just want your power."

And every bit of it worked because you felt the need, individual to each person. It compelled me and countless others to watch. So much so, when I read of the cancellation I immediately bought the first book in Leigh Bardugo’s series. 

 Unfortunately, if season one could be reduced to one word: “want,” season two could be truncated to much weaker word: “malaise.” While the fabled Sun Summoner still has a want, now complicated with power and accomplishment, Kaz and his band of Crows satisfy their objective in the first two episodes and the rest of the season is a fumbling quest-list. 

 

Make no mistake, there are moments of brilliance. I remain staunchly team-Crows but after the first two or three episodes the arc feels forced and, as compelling as Alina may be, she can’t carry the show alone. 

Heart-breaking brilliance.

Starting a fire is harder than it looks…

 

October Faction is another Netflix original that got the ax, albeit in 2020, after season one. Nowhere near as expansive, epic, or expensive, OF followed a husband and wife team of monster hunters returning to the town where they grew up, met, and married over a shared grief-and-shame secret. The problem with OF’s single season is the same with SaB’s 2nd season—direction. It is inconsistent. Just as the crows are pretty much just hanging out after Kaz gets his revenge and secures Inej’ freedom, (again, in the first 3 episodes) the Allen Family are just hanging out, killing the odd demon through the first six-ish episodes without much really going on. THEEEEEEN, around episode six we find out that the kids are not the Allen’s biological children (and why). In successive episodes we learn more about the shared pain that connects Fred (J.C. MacKenzie) and Delores (Tamara Taylor).

We also learn that both have been keeping other secrets from each other. Chief among them is Fred’s affair. See? If those points had been loaded up around episode 3 this show might’ve generated ratings to support renewal. 

 

All the drama is just (6 slow episodes) below the surface.

Direction issues are rare. Honestly most television shows with direction issues don’t make it beyond the pilot, if that far. It is also rare to see a show stumble once they have their direction lined up. Books simply don’t make it beyond developmental edits. Self-published books with direction issues seldom do the business to support a follow up.

 

No, most shows, (or books) fade under the weight of their success. A UPN original, Babylon 5—a science fiction epic with shades of Asimov’s Foundation series, Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, and a dose of cold-war paranoia, all aboard a five-mile-long space station—started strong. While sporting a large cast, every person had their own direction, agenda, or, “want.” 

When you can't wait to fight but it's picture day at school.

G’Kar, (Andres Katsulas) wants to consolidate his species’ power, solidify their place in the galaxy, and then exact revenge against the species that oppressed their world for hundreds of years. His foil, Londo, (Peter Jurasik) a disgraced nobleman is on B5 mostly to get him out of court but also to build alliances to contain G’Kar. Mimbari ambassador Delenn, (Mira Furlan) works to preserve the fragile peace while harboring her own plans. Commander Sinclair, the human administrator, (Michael O’Hare) a hero under a pronounced cloud with his own people (and the Mimbari) struggles to hold onto his sanity while plagued by waking nightmares from a disastrous war. All around them agent provocateurs (of all origins) campaign to destroy the fragile peace.

 

Yeah, it’s a lot

 

Still, it all worked. Creator and chief writer, J. Michael Straczynski had written B5 with a five-year arc in mind. Then Warner Brothers announced they were pulling the plug at the end of season four. It was only after Straczynski had revised his story arc to wrap everything up that Turner Network Television offered a fifth season. The results were “meh.” All the conflict that has been carefully, methodically built over five years had been resolved in seasons three and four. Straczynski’s own conflict: proving that audiences were sophisticated enough for a hard-arc in their television entertainment had also been satisfied. He had nowhere to go with the characters who remained and the writing reflected that with half-baked conflicts that feel like filler episodes. 

No jokes, just a lovely, lovely title card.

Following closely on Babylon 5’s success Girlfriends broke sit-com ground. Created by Mara Broc, Akil and following five friends in contemporary Los Angeles, GF was smart, funny, and a mature take on single life. Best of all, there was strong direction denoting living/breathing people and not sitcom-caricatures. Joan (Tracy Ellis Ross) is an associate at a mid-sized-law firm. She is a third-generation Angelino success story. The only thing missing from her picture-perfect life is family—needle, meet haystack. 

Lots of drama, no space ships necessary.

The rest of the cast, Maya, (Golden Brooks) Lynn, (Persia White) Toni, (Jill Marie Jones) and William, (Reggie Hayes) have equally fully fleshed out lives, backgrounds, and goals. Often those goals intersect. Just as often, those goals clash. Girlfriends punched WAY above its weight and I honestly hold it superior to the WAY overrated Sex and the City.

Sadly, GFs suffered from contract disputes, screwy scheduling, and a spat of mergers. The stated nail in the coffin was a writers’ strike and declining ratings. They leave out mergers and decisions away from programing directed at African American audiences.

However, again, the decline in the show tracks to the writing and a clear loss of direction. The dynamic between the characters could and did withstand the departure of Toni in season six. The writers were slow to abandon their “replace Toni” arc but worst was the forced relationship between William and Joan. 

The tension between them, indeed across all the relationships, was a large part of what made the show so much fun to watch. More than squashing the “will they, won’t they?” suspense, rushing the relationship felt shoehorned. Then, when the relationship fell flat the writers went nowhere fresh. They hit reset and hoped no one would notice.

By the final season, we got to see fully executed arcs from Maya, Lynn, and even Monica while Joan’s arc is flatlined and William’s story is regressed. Without logical direction, Joan and William become side characters. The eventual cancellation was almost a relief. 

Endings are hard

Just as no genre has a lock on lack of direction, no genre has a lock on lost direction. Cops and robbers have been a television staple since black-and-white pictures and tin-foil on the antennae. The direction is simple. Good guys chase, catch, and arrest bad guys. The formula worked for decades but after Frank Serpico uncovered systemic corruption in the NYPD, audiences were ready for a little more reality in their routine. 

Like an edgier One-Adam 12

Fast-forward a couple more decades and you get The Wire. One of the most influential television shows of all time, TW follows officers on the Baltimore Police Department as they tackle the crack trade in the projects. With the taskforce as a backdrop, we meet McNulty, (Dominic West) is alcoholic degenerate who is only ever good when he’s on the job. Bunk, (Wendell Pierce) is a veteran detective who aspires to advancement beyond the street. Greggs, (Sonja Sohn) has graduated from law school and is ready to level up from street-police. Omar Little (Michael K. Williams, RIP) is a stick-up man out for revenge after the man he loves is murdered.

"Omar comin'!" And he's a good guy.

Everyone gets twisted and everyone gets dirty in the churn. That is the brilliance of the show. Season one and two, they’re chasing a multi-generational Baltimore crime family with connections to the Greek mafia. The direction is toothache real. By season three, the detail has chased the Greeks off the waterfront and focus on dismantling the Barksdale’s crime network legally, while Omar goes after the Barksdale street-style.

But season four sputters. New characters are introduced. As-is a new baddie but he is a pale comparison to Barksdale, Bell, and the Greek. The outcome is just as fraught with jeopardy. But the direction of the show is mundane-mid-career vague. Who wants what? Why do we care?

Season five takes a hard turn into writer self-indulgence. Ed Burns, one of the creators of the show, is a retired police officer and former teacher. The salient storyline is the classroom-to-crime conduit. Critics claim that the season is about media consumption. No one cared. There were hints of what made the show great. Mostly it was  closure and the tone was that of a sendoff, which it was.

Really, there are worse endings.

None of that is necessarily wrong. Stephen King (regularly) teaches how hard endings are with the frequency in which he abandons the characters and story and just stops typing. Others, (The Martian) over-wring their endings and rob them of impact. However, if your characters lose direction, lose focus, the story is already over, whether it is page 300 or page 3. 

Still a better ending than whatever Wahlberg is doing.

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