The Apple of My TV Watching Habits Never Falls Far From The Tree of My Expectations
I started watching Apples Never Fall this weekend — because why not, right? Truth be told, I’m a bit over movies right now. I proved that to myself by watching Ricky Stanicky — make sure you don’t!
I mean, I’m still loving the weekly Wellington Film Society movie offering.
But, I overdosed on cinema earlier this year — I reckon I watched close to one hundred movies in the month of January, eh. Not even joking. Barely exaggerating. I saw most of the Oscar-bait at the cinema, and I was watching whatever I could get my hands on via YouTube, Tubi, the local DVD store, my own DVD collection, and of course any other streaming service. I even connected with Plex — and watched bunches of short films on that platform. Geezus, it was A Lot. I was on my own for much of the month, and on holiday too. I had to get back to work and get my family back so I remembered exactly what I do and who I am.
I’ve been hiding from the TV the last few weeks — and enjoying it. Reading. Listening to music. Going for evening walks with the dog.. Even listening to audiobooks/podcasts sometimes at night too. But I couldn’t stay away from our big TV for too long, and Apples Never Fall was always going to trap me.
It’s from the pen of Australian author Liane Moriarty. I don‘t exactly love her work — she’s one from two in the TV stakes for me. Big Little Lies was very good. I doubt it holds up to close scrutiny, but isn’t that the trick of limited series television. It’s here for the good time, not the long time. Its trick is to trap you in, make you watch enough of it, and quickly too, so you figure, fuck it, why not, might as well carry on and finish it eh…That’s pretty much the thinking behind it all. The setup. Big Little Lies wasn’t exactly fun, but it was sometimes funny, and it showed a stacked cast, and many of us fell for it just because of that.
Moriarty was also behind Nine Perfect Strangers, which was utter garbage. But I only know that because I sat all the way through it. And wanted to like it. I liked some of the characters, and the strange mood, and many of the actors involved (again, a stacked cast) did great work. And even though I haven’t read the book, I can see how it would be very readable trash; the good kind…
Sometimes you just need a TV show (or movie) to pass the time, to unwind, to mark the space between work and sleep, and you can do a lot worse than a Lianne Moriarty TV show. I guess that’s what I’m saying.
When I was a kid, and I’ve written about this before, the TV mini-series was a big deal. Roots, V, Shogun, Lonesome Dove…The Thorn Birds, and Brideshead Revisited. That’s just a few names I remember. Some of them, like Roots and Brideshead, I saw on their first repeat, others were new to me at the time, as they were for everyone. I watched Shogun, as a kid, and barely understood it but loved the experience of trying to like it, and Lonesome Dove I only properly watched a couple of years ago. And it’s a masterpiece.
But these shows were few and far between. Now called the “limited series”, the swankier name for a mini-series, they are everywhere, and happening all the time, and I know the whole model for how we make and receive TV is different, and everything is accelerated in this life, sure, but these limited series’ arrive with one thing on their mind: Win Emmys (and/or Golden Globes). They stack the cast, and they follow a formula. They love flashbacks a little too much. They love family tension. They love smoking guns. They love introducing a character early that you’re convinced is going to be the problem, then using that character purely as the bait and switch for the twist. They love twist on twist. Let’s fucking twist again, like we did last summer, when we watched Beef or Silo or Shrinking or The Fall of the House of Usher.
The limited series has a sassy cop offering plenty of lip. The limited series has a character that’s there to cover up for another character, to provide the red herring. The limited series is meant to be defined by the fact that there won’t be a sequel — but there’ll often be a sequel if its popular enough…(making it limited only in its thinking, not actually limited).
The limited series loves damage. Trades in damage. Parades damage. And then falls away without ever really explaining everything that was set up, nor many of the convenient distractions.
The limited series means (very) well but is limited by the fact that it is trying to just be a single series. It sometimes works very well, by the way. Very well indeed. But just as often, you can see, a mile wide and far too early, the holes in the script, and the bits that won’t ever be satisfactorily explained away. It’s almost always one or two episodes too long. And when it’s not, it’s rushed and wraps far too quickly, too conveniently.
The limited series is almost never the correct length.
I have every faith that Apples Never Fall will be exactly one of these very limited series’ — which is wonderful. Because that’s exactly what I feel like. Until I reach the end. Then I’ll feel duped. I’ll claim I could tell early on that it wasn’t going to be worth it. I’ll talk about how it was obvious where it was going, but only after I obviously know — from sticking with the thing until its actual end.
I’ll applaud Sam Neil or Annette Bening. Or both of them. I might have, by the time you read this, already announced that Annette Bening is “always really good”. Or some such.
But that’s okay, because after a limited series or two, I’ll be back watching as many movies as I can get my eyeballs across in a week. Lol.
"I don't need to be reminded, Woodrow, of all the things I should have done for this fine man." The fact that Lonesome Dove was directed by an Australian is even more remarkable - because it was so culturally specific.