Deadwood: The Movie

[AFlickering]

if Deadwood was a more hopeful show than The Wire, that's because it took place in a clearing, an empty space upon which to build. where The Wire finds its characters entrenched in a city that's been systematically strangled, deadwood is a place of possibility, a future yet to be mapped. it's akin to shakespeare not just in its towering wit and ambition but in this way we're witnessing our world being created before our very eyes. of course, by the end of the final season such hope is in short supply, because men like george hearst exist and when the earth speaks to them of its fertility and its possibility it's only a matter of time before blood is spilled. Deadwood was among the great american works of the 21st century across any medium, and it couldn't end the way its creator wished because the money men decided it. welcome to the future.

most will know that powers boothe passed away between the end of the show and the making of this film, but did you know ralph richeson and ricky jay have too? what about milch himself, struggling with dementia for the last half decade, his genius slowly slipping away? there'll always be george hearst, though he'll go by different names and faces, and each new generation will either strike a deal with the devil and his kingdom or die fighting him. of course, they'll end anyway, just a little later and with a lot more regrets. this movie knows all that, and it's terrified. still, the overriding emotion is hope. not the commodified fortune cookie hope bandied about today's blockbuster landscape, but simply a belief that there is something in humanity that is irreducible. that we are not simply apes, or helpless cogs in a machine run by the strongest cruellest apes. that we can achieve something meaningful, that there is a capacity in us for growth and grace.

the film references key moments from the show via flashbacks which seem uncharacteristically clumsy, but there's a heartbreaking cut between one whore's face and another which illustrate their purpose: to evoke the cyclic nature of history, of life, and how that weighs upon each character in different ways. almost everything that happens in the movie already happened in the show, in one guise or another. the hope lies in the small ways they might differ this time around.

the first time joanie and jane meet in the show they're broken and lost, but they ultimately find comfort in one another. at the start of the movie they're back to broken and lost, and their reunion is distressing for how easily and believably one of the show's most moving arcs has been eradicated as though it never happened, a fleeting fantasy before the pain took hold again. milch loves these flawed characters though, and while he will never magically ignore or sugarcoat their weaknesses for our viewing pleasure, he will envision a beautiful, violent, messy way in which jane can perhaps break that cycle, or at least modulate it enough that she can sleep better at night.

bullock drags hearst to prison by his ear for a second time. on each occasion this act is primarily fuelled by frustration and grief; for his son in the first case, for a dear friend in the second. hearst has a few more bruises this time around but the result will be the same, he will go free. but consider what follows in each case. in the show, bullock's next scene was to awkwardly tell his wife what he'd done as they sat at opposite ends of the table in their dark, empty house. this time around, he's given closure for his grief, and goes home to kiss his wife passionately at the door, his three children flocking around. milch doesn't deny the ways in which progress can poison this camp, but at key moments he chooses to emphasise the strengthening of bonds, the potential for positive change.

the most important new character is a fresh-faced whore who quickly charms her way into al's establishment. she reminds some of trixie, others of the whore murdered in trixie's place. trixie lets this girl hold her newborn; she represents her own past and her son's future, standing at the same fork everyone does when they enter deadwood, one leading to the fruits of civilisation, the other to the bottle or the coffin. al embraces her in a pose identical to how he once embraced trixie, the woman he's been covertly in love with since the start of the show, and tells her "it's a sad night. something's afire. christ, i do have feelings.' in another life he could've been where sol star is right now instead of laying on his death bed haunted by his own thoughts and deeds, but he'd have had to sacrifice an essential part of himself. what makes milch great is that you can always tell what he wants for his characters, wants deeply, but in this world nothing good comes without a price, and sometimes no penance is enough. consider that the nicest guy in deadwood pays for his happy ending with a bullet to the head.

harold bloom had a theory that shakespeare wasn't simply the first to capture the burgeoning self-consciousness of the time, but created it. that he triggered an evolution in our psychology, a new level of self-understanding, like some kubrickian monolith from the future. art had the power not only to illuminate but reroute us, to write our future in its image. Deadwood is set in the distant past, but it's about what's to come and how we ought to face it, personally and collectively. the final moments here, with hands entwined and a last guttural quip, suggest the answer is with love, humour and defiance. consider me fuckin' inspired, you cocksuckers.