In the following article, Matthew Pittman (whose episode by episode interaction with season 6 of Dexter and whose caracter profiles of the denizens of Downton Abbey you really ought to check out), takes us through the first season of House of Cards, the Netflix Original series currently available in its entirety via Netflix Instant. Since this an overview of the entire season, SPOILERS abound. – Editor
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You can learn a lot about House of Cards just from the opening title sequence. Visually, actors’ names are displayed over time-lapsed sequences of Washington D.C. In these sped-up visions of the city no single human is perceptible, only blurs and streaks of drone-like behavior. Day and night, America’s capital is a concrete beehive teeming with lifeless activity. Sonically, a thumping bass line props up various melodic flourishes. The bass is incessant and consistent – think of the Jaws theme, but more subtle and without the increase in tempo. Taken together, these elements communicate a simple truth how House of Cards views the world: mechanical and restless, cold and relentless.
Oddly enough, this tone was mirrored in my viewing of the show. As one of the first Netflix Original series, when it premiered on February 1, 2013, the entire season was available for immediate viewing. With no commercials and no delay between episodes I watched all of season one (13 episodes) in less than 24 hours. This undoubtedly affected my perception of the show; with little break to pause and reflect on narrative arcs, I frequently and increasingly felt overwhelmed by the darkness of the show and its ruthless characters.
Much has yet to be said about this distribution model – all at once vs. spread out weekly – of television consumption, but House of Cards will not be the last series to be presented in this fashion (The fourth season of cult favorite Arrested Development is due out sometime this year). What are you looking for in a tele-viewing experience – a glorious-if-short-lived emotional high, or a mellow-but-sustained emotional reward on the investment of time? Does it depend on the show? What about watching alone versus with friends?
Social media only complicates things. Within a day of House of Card’s release people were tweeting about major plot points, which, for a drama, is kind of a bummer. This phenomenon leaves potential viewers with two options: either watch an entire series in a marathon session like everyone else (so as not to be left behind) or carefully abstain from social media while you watch it at your own pace. Whether this is a sign of media programming to come or just a temporary trend remains to be seen.
House of Cards is a powerful show. Kevin Spacey plays Francis (Frank) Underwood, a South Carolina congressman and House Majority Whip. In the first episode Underwood gets passed over for appointment to Secretary of State and vows revenge on all who betrayed him. Robin Wright plays Claire, his loyal wife and partner, who is Frank’s equal when it comes to concocting nefarious machinations in their joint grab for power. One wonders if perhaps Robin Wright played Lady Macbeth before her turn as Princess Buttercup.
When I say Claire is “loyal,” I do not mean it in the traditional sense of marital, sexual fidelity. If you are looking for an exemplary biblical marriage, keep looking. Frank and Claire are brutally honest with each another and keenly aware of the foundation upon which their open marriage is built – not on romantic love but shared ambition. There is something fascinating about their absolute committal to such a macabre project. In a way, their marriage is rather beautiful in its terrible efficiency, like a medieval torture device or nuclear bomb might be.
One facet of the show that has garnered attention (and spawned several parodies) is Frank’s occasional breach of the “4th wall”. This convenient expository tool occurs when Spacey looks directly into the camera and, almost like he is addressing a pupil, explains some hidden part of the narrative: Underwood’s real motivation for a course of action, back-story for another character, etc. While unconventional, it seems to serve two functions. On the one hand, it keeps the audience up-to-speed with the often-convoluted world that is high-level politics. For example, I never was aware of the great disparity of influence that exists between members of congress; I thought a congressman was a congressman. On the other hand, addressing a captive audience to share knowledge doesn’t seem too out-of-character for a man who, above all else, craves power.
In the second episode, in one of these expositional asides, Underwood tells us why, in a town where everyone else clamors for money, he instead seeks power: “Money is the McMansion in Sarasota that starts falling apart after 10 years. Power is the old stone house that stands for centuries. I cannot respect someone who doesn’t see the difference.” With the exception of his wife, his right-hand man (Doug Stamper), and reporter-turned-paramour-turned-rebel Zoe (Kate Mara), Underwood has no respect for anyone he comes in contact with, and Spacey does a great job communicating this as a resentment that bubbles just beneath the surface. Building himself up by tearing others down is the closest thing to happiness for Frank Underwood.
When the Underwoods attend church, it cuts right to the scene where the preacher is mid-sermon. He is preaching on Matthew 23, and we hear only the second half of Jesus’ words: “…those who humble themselves will be exalted.” This is obviously a very fitting slogan to frame Underwood’s activity throughout the season. What appears to others as self-effacing behavior on his part—turning down ostensibly prestigious assignments, volunteering for ostensibly meaningless ones – is of course part of his plan to seize the vice-presidential nomination. His season-long Machiavellian scheme comes to fruition in the finale.
Of course, any good Christian will note that the church scene cut was carefully edited to exclude the first half of Matthew 23:12. “For those who exalt themselves will be humbled…” Whether or not Frank Underwood can be called a “hero”, he is the protagonist of the show, and the audience eventually comes to empathize with him on some level. (This may, of course, be because everyone else in Washington is equally vile, so we may as well root for the guy who charmingly talks directly to us now and again.) Yet despite Underwoods apparent victory of exalting himself, the unspoken first half of the verse looms – consciously or not – in viewers’ mind.
Naturally it would not be a compelling story if not for an element of danger, but it goes beyond that. It is indeed exhilarating to watch Frank’s various victories, both large (VP nomination, ending the teachers’ strike, passing Education bill) and small (being honored by his Alma Mater, getting the last word in an argument, getting in shape with the rowing machine). However, there is the underlying sense that he cannot ultimately “win”. We know the political “house of cards” he so easily toppled and rebuilt for himself will eventually be toppled by someone else. He who speciously humbles himself to actually exalt himself must absolutely be humbled in the end… right?
Despite our “rooting for” him, Frank Underwood constitutes our worst fears about Washington D.C. Everyone in House of Cards is either an insidious self-serving puppeteer or, like the President, Vice President, and representative Peter Russo, a weak-minded puppet. Is this not how the general public views American politics? Our country is divided and nothing ever seems to get accomplished. This is precisely why the audience thinks Frank Underwood will inevitably fail: we want him to. Because the alternative is admitting we live in a world where good people are weak and corruption ultimately prospers.
There is a scene in the season finale that illustrates this wonderfully. Frank is troubled and goes to a church to pray. This is not a frequent occurrence. He proceeds to the altar, looks up to address God, looks down to address the devil, and then states, “There is no solace above or below…only us… small, solitary, striving, battling one another. I pray to myself, for myself.” Then he turns to leave the church, lighting a candle in the votive near the church exit. He pauses… then blows out every other candle in the votive. Then he blows his out, leaving only darkness. Frank Underwood just wants his candle to burn a little longer than any other before the inexorable rush of the abyss takes us all.
House of Cards offers a bleak, nihilistic take on life, but at least it makes it interesting. Watching Kevin Spacey conjure and cajole his way up the political ladder becomes a guilty pleasure, like watching animal videos on YouTube or eating a whole bag of snacks in one day. It is a good show that demonstrates potential for greatness. I look forward watching Season 2… just not in one day.