With the third season of House of Cards just released and political dramas enjoying a renaissance, why do we prefer fictional statesmen to current affairs? Alan Stewart has a theory and some recommendations.
Like myself, many of you were probably counting the minutes before the third season of the Netflix original House of Cards became available two days ago.
All 13 episodes were made available at once, meaning we can once again lump ourselves on the couch with snacks and drinks and not move until the final credits on the last episode roll (even if it means soiling oneself) just because we need to know what happens next.
Before I start watching it, I want to make sure that such a time window is available to me, which means you can go ahead and read as there are no spoilers in this column.
House of Cards takes a typically unappealing subject [politics] and layers it with several dense Machiavellian plotlines that overlap and run concurrently.
Despite the cerebral content, it does not exclude the mainstream viewership, because we’re not really watching a political show. We are watching a master villain practise his craft and walking us through the process step by step.
It’s vicarious living; we all have a dark side that needs tickling and Kevin Spacey’s Frank Underwood is our champion. But the fact remains that we’re watching drama that ostensibly uses politics as its backdrop. How haven’t we fallen asleep yet?
I’d be hard pressed to find anyone, who is not up the ladder of a particular party, who’s ever listened to a full parliamentary session for interest alone.
I’m also in a murky area on how laws get passed in this country; it’s not something that was ever taught in school.
The media typically discusses politics and its practitioners in the framework of a strong issue or crisis though, tragically, it’s the scandals that really glue us to the news.
This in a country that boasts a strong sense of political identity. This side of the millennium us Maltese have a voting turnout average of 93 per cent, where, say, Australia works in the 95 per cent region and it is illegal not to vote down under. America’s needle works within the 55 per cent margin. So why are they making political-themed programmes?
Simply put, it’s because we do not want reality.
When it comes to administration-in-action themed programming, Aaron Sorkin’s The West Wing remains a favourite. The series gives us a behind-the-scenes look at how a US president deals with issues as complex as terrorism or as basic as photo opportunities with children.
The hyperbolic and excessively witty characters fire off sharp dialogue and frame the crises in an easy-to-understand manner that delights you in the theatrics of it all.
The West Wing is populated by charismatic staffers, who work tirelessly into the night, committing to Sorkin’s ideals of integrity, loyalty and patriotism above all else.
What amazes me is how the issues that affected the characters in 1980s UK could read right off the headlines of today’s newspapers
And, despite the frequent hard calls by Martin Sheen’s President Bartlett, we still never really believe this can be an accurate portrayal of government-in-action.
There is no cynicism here, no scandal spawned from human failing, no trace of big money influencing the office. It’s escapism at its best: a leader and his team we wish existed and could take the decisions we need taken in this tumultuous world. Pass me the box of DVDs and feed me nutrients intravenously please.
In response to House of Cards, Amazon produced the lightweight satire Alpha House, in which a handful of Republican senators share a home in Washington, the US, in order to cut down on travel time to their home states.
Presumably the joke is that there still are Republicans who care about these issues. It’s led by the ubiquitous and affable John Goodman and the programme tries to capture a sense of those-where-the-days of good people trying to do right by the people of the US.
It’s not a very strong offering, but it is propelled forward by humorous situations, the show being penned by cartoonist Garry Trudeau.
When it comes to dry wit, we should turn to our former colonial masters the English. Armando Iannucci’s The Thick of It was a four-season show depicting the daily rigours of an ineffectual ministerial department.
The minister and his staff seem to trip over the most innocuous of scenarios in a bid to maintain a positive media presence rather than a successful administration. The pressure is laid on pretty thick by the ever potty-mouthed party whip Malcolm Tucker (played by the current Doctor Who Peter Capaldi).
Possibly the most entertaining side of the show is listening to the thick Scottish accent spew out the most creatively offensive and crude insults you could conceive of. A movie spin-off called In The Loop was produced, retaining most of the characters under a different name.
Iannucci went on to work on HBO’s Veep, a similarly dour look at what the vice-president’s office has to contend with to retain media interest.
Never addressing the issues, both programmes project the idea that a politician only functions to retain a good public image, limiting themselves to working on issues that support or generate an immediate good response in the media. It is funny simply because it is better to laugh, than to cry, at the reality of it all.
If you want the satirical and the Machiavellian in equal measure, there is only one true leader of the political genre. Yes, Minister follows the ministerial career of Jim Hacker MP and his various struggles, which create change in his department or in the country.
He’s consistently thwarted by Sir Humphrey Appleby, his permanent secretary and representative of the British Civil Service.
The series evolved into Yes, Prime Minister and was a favourite of the public and politicians alike in Thatcherite Britain.
The programme turns 25 this week and what amazes me watching the show today is how the issues that affected the characters in 1980s UK could read right off the headlines of today’s newspapers: European Union crises, conflicts in North Africa, delegations to the Middle East to secure oil prices and so on.
In the end, we watch this kind of programming because we seek escapism from the cynicism of the real world.
Still, be they the Machiavellian villains or the bumbling fools, we get the politicians we deserve in one reality or another.
I vote we stay in and dis-cuss the fictional issues. It’s less depressing.