In Penny Dreadful there is a barber slitting throat-o-graphs . . .

Hmmm. That title might have been a reach. (But the show really does reference Sweeney Todd, so . . . I'm leaving it.)

At any rate, I have been watching Penny Dreadful lately and I LOVE it. I think it's the best new fantasy series since Game of Thrones started. Better than Grimm, Dracula, OUAT, Witches of East End, and Wizards of Waverly Place. Just kidding, I haven't seen the last one. And, to be fair and open-minded as I dole out superlatives, I still haven't seen Orphan Black. (But is that fantasy, or science fiction, or something else entirely, she mused before snapping out of what was sure to become a trip down the literary-categorization rabbit hole).

The titles are lovely, evoking the Downton Abbey or the Black Sails titles--mostly shots of objects, like still lifes. However, these particular still lifes are covered in spiders and snakes, and the tone is a darker and more ominous. A teacup fills with blood and drops to the floor, shattering. Carrion beetles swarm. A torso, covered in stitches, rotates.

Eva Green, of James Bond fame, plays Vanessa Ives, an enigmatic woman with as-yet-to-be-explained occult powers. She is the friend? former lover? business partner? of Sir Malcolm Murray (played by Timothy Dalton, a former Bond), whose daughter Mina has been seduced by vampires. Yes, that Mina Murray. To find Mina, they team up with Ethan Chandler, played by Josh Hartnett (whose voice, I never noticed before, sounds almost exactly like Jon Hamm's), a sharpshooter visiting London to escape from as-yet-to-be-explained legal troubles in the US; and Victor Frankenstein--yes, that Victor Frankenstein--a young doctor who needs money to fund his experiments. Also, Eva Green has caught the eye of Dorian Gray. Yes, that Dorian Gray.

You'll notice several patterns emerging, most notably how the lives and backstories of literary characters of the Victorian gothic novel begin to intersect in really interesting ways. In essence, it's not unlike what the creators of Once Upon a Time are trying to do with fairy tales. But where OUAT is clumsy, heavy-handed, and without meaningful emotional highs and lows, so far, Penny Dreadful is clever, elegant, and even lyrical in some moments. Its intertextuality works; you can tell that the show-writers have thought a lot about the connections between these characters and what they might mean. The show even gestures toward literary characters outside its main corpus of inspiration. Shakespeare gets several nods, as per usual, but the most interesting one to me was The Phantom of the Opera. Frankenstein's monster--called Caliban and played by Rory Kinnear--takes a job at the Grand Guignol theater in London. As he skulks under the stage, mangled face half-hidden by a veil of Snape-like black hair, peering out at a beautiful actress, he looks just like Erik, the Phantom, obsessing over Christine.

The dialogue is a lot better than any of the shows (other than GoT, whose dialogue I adore) I mention above. It's witty without overreaching. It still sounds basically realistic for Victorian speech. And peppered in are beautiful, passionate speeches, like the speech Frankenstein gives Murray when he's talking about his ultimate goal, the preservation of human life and extinction of death. These performances are high points, almost as chilling (albeit in different ways) as the show's horror.

Which is, I must tell you, horrible. I don't like horror. I don't watch it, I don't read it, I look away when trailers for scary movies come on. Even Alfred Hitchcock is a bit too frightening for me at times. So I debated about watching Penny Dreadful. I decided to give it a try in full daylight so, if it was too scary, I'd still have some time before bed to work it out of my system. And it is pretty scary. But for some reason it doesn't go past my limit. I think it might be because I am familiar with these characters and their storylines, so the basic element of terror--surprise--is somewhat muted. It also might be that, so far, there hasn't been too much of what really freaks me out: hard-core supernatural stuff, hauntings and whatnot.

Although if you watch it, you'll probably wonder where I'm coming from. The second episode revolves around a seance that goes about as wrong as a seance can go. If that's not hard-core supernatural, then what is?, you rightly ask. All I know is, I liked that scene and found it immensely watchable. Maybe it's because the main character, Vanessa, is likeable despite her mysterious nature. Maybe it's because I'm caught by the central mystery--who is Egyptian god behind all of this? Or maybe it's because Eva Green did some baller acting and should maybe try out for Cirque du Soleil, she's so eerily flexible.

It all makes me wonder if I should start tentatively dipping my toe in the pool of horror (in moderation, and in daylight). After all, Thomas Middleton was interested in several aspects of horror--human evil, supernatural forces, lots of shocking gore. Several minutes of the fourth episode, "Demimonde," take place at the Grand Guignol, a name I know only because today's reviewers of Middleton's plays often liken them to the shocking, splashy plays that debuted at that theater in the Victorian period. If I appreciate Middleton and what he's consciously doing with those elements, perhaps I can develop an appreciation for modern horror.

I think I'll always prefer my horror in the guise of fairy tales, though.

*As a Middleton fan, a theater historian, and a lover of fantasy, it was a true and nerdy joy, a real intertextual moment for me, to watch Rory Kinnear, who starred as Vindice in Melly Still's The Revenger's Tragedy at the National Theater, play Frankenstein's monster-called-Caliban and run around the underbelly of the Grand Guignol, operating antiquated stage machinery and properties with unabashed glee.

Pay Attention to Consequences

The messages of Once Upon a Time have been that good always prevails, that all it—whatever  “it” happens to be—takes is belief, and, ad nauseam, that true love conquers all. However, Hemingway said, “If two people are truly in love, there’s no way it can all end happily,” and apologies to Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz, but I’m gonna go with Papa on this one.

Forget, for a moment, that these messages do not accurately reflect the original messages of the large body of fairy tales, which were more like, “Everything in the world is dangerous and will eat/steal you if it possibly can.” Because, of course, this ABC family drama (distributed by Disney) is not even about to be anything but warm and fuzzy.

Let’s focus instead on how the unrelenting hammering-home of these messages affects the plot and characterization.

Everyone knows plot revolves around conflict. The creators of this show have given us plenty of conflict. The over-arching magical conflicts between the Evil Queen and the Dark One, and all of the other Enchanted Woods characters whom they enspelled. The over-arching domestic conflicts between Regina and Emma over Henry, or Rumple’s search for his son. The over-arching internal conflicts that rage within Emma, who longs to trust people but is still hurt at being abandoned and growing up without a family. Or Regina, who battles between rage and revenge, and the desire to be a hero and find happiness again.

These conflicts are, each of them, real and engrossing. (The moments they create could be, like, a billion times more engrossing if they weren’t saddled with clunky, cheesy, boring dialogue, but that’s a whole ‘nother thing.)

The plot problem is that, in their effort to make sure that the messages of “if you only believe,” and “true love conquers all,” come through loud and clear, the writers sabotage moments of conflict and drama by almost always reversing the consequences of big decisions. For instance, [highlight for spoilers] near the end of the third season, Charming has to give up his heart to re-enact Regina’s dark curse. While the couple exchange their last love vows, Snow crushes his heart, killing him. Literally two minutes later, Snow realizes that Charming’s claim that they were “of one heart” might mean that he can live again, with half of her heart. She asks Regina to “believe,” puts half her heart in Charming’s chest, and he comes back to life. Ta da! [spoilers ended]

This is just the latest and most immediate in a long series of impossible resurrections and/or immediate about-faces in destiny: Gold, Neal, the several “unbreakable” curses that always get broken laughably easily. This show does not want to let consequences last which, after a while, cuts the emotional legs out from under any fraught decision that’s being made. Regina might lose Henry if she saves the world? So what! Emma will lose her powers if she gets kissed? No big deal! This pattern makes it almost impossible to really care about any of the Life or Death moments that the show presents us with.

This pattern also gets in the way of characterization. I want to care about the Charmings—I really do. But how can I? With the (admittedly big) exception of getting to raise Emma, they get everything they want, all the time, no questions asked. For instance, [highlight for spoilers] when Hook raises the completely reasonable suggestion that perhaps Ariel can’t find Eric because he’s dead, and that encouraging her would be raising “false hope,” [end spoilers] David responds glibly, “In my experience, there’s no such thing. You just have to believe.” Of course he says that, because that IS his experience. But his experience is not only far removed from the real world from which people are watching this show, but also removed from the “real world” people of Storybrooke, who DO lose people (though at a smaller rate than you’d think) to death, to memory-curses, to heartbreaking love-triangles, etc. The fact is, the Charmings are impossibly privileged and their privilege makes it hard for me to care about them. [Hightlight for spoilers] Their later faux-humble (“just a simple potluck”) coronation ceremony for their new son [end spoilers] only serves to underscore the weirdness of a royal family in modern-day America, a family for whom the whole town will rally at a moment’s notice and to whom they will defer in moments of crisis.

With a few tweaks, the Charmings could be much more relatable, and the storyline more fascinating. For instance, was the outcome of Snow killing Cora? Her heart became tainted with spots of darkness. Unfortunately, we haven’t seen any consequences of this change lately. How much more nuanced and true-to-life would it be if Snow had to struggle with a dark side? [Highlight for spoilers] And, now that Snow and David share that spotted heart, what could happen? [end spoiler] I’m not talking about a sudden and catastrophic slide into Dark One-style evil, but just a realistic internal conflict between the desire to do “what’s right” and the urge to do things an easier, quicker, more ruthless way.

But, except for a few moments of dark humor, this show shies away from representing reality—whether that be realistic character motivations, realistic plot outcomes, or even, as I mentioned above, story adaptations that stick more closely to the “reality” of what fairy tales originally offered. Which is the real tragedy of Once Upon a Time: how much better it could be if it stuck more closely to non-Disney versions of fairy tales. These stories were not originally comforting yarns told at bedtime to send children off into a pleasant dreamland; they were violent, scary, and dark. In short, they were warnings. Look no farther than the big four in the Western tradition: Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Beauty and the Beast. In their depictions of imprisonment, abuse, kidnapping, rape, bestiality, etc., even our oft-repeated fairy tales strongly suggested that wonderful things like family relations, sex, love, ambition, and leadership could be twisted into frightening experiences. Here there be dragons, fairy tales said, and pointed at our daily lives. (Also, fairies be crazy. For real.)

I continue to watch Once Upon a Time because . . . because . . . because I want to. Because, at times, it’s funny. Because, at times, it gets me. Because I love fairy tales and television and pop culture. Because, let’s face it, the visuals are great. And I think it can still get better. Let’s all hope—have faith—believe that it will. Regina’s final words to Emma in Season Three leave me with such hope: “You’re just like your mother—never thinking of consequences.” If “pay attention to consequences” becomes the new mantra, both for the characters and the writers, Season Four should be pretty sweet. 

Grimm vs. OUAT

A friend of mine and I discuss these two shows from time to time. I'm of the firm opinion that Grimm is the better show. But a lot of people like Once Upon a Time. And while there's a lot to like, there's also a lot to hate. Here are my reasons.

Concept:
The concept behind OUAT is a favorite of mine--re-told fairy tales. But in this iteration, the fairy tale characters reenact their most poignant internal conflicts in the real world, intercut with scenes of them in the fairy tale world (the Enchanted Forest, Oz, Wonderland, etc.). The structure is pretty great and a lot like Lost, which was created by the same duo.

Grimm does not follow specific fairy-tale plotlines. Instead, it transposes mythological and legendary beasts into modern-day Portland as part of a hidden underground world of wesen, human-presenting creatures who possess qualities like superhuman strength, enhanced speed, animal urges, and (at times) paranormal qualities such as breathing fire or seducing with a song. These wesen are policed by Nick Burkhardt, who is a Grimm, a human possessed with the ability to see wesen and derived from a lineage of wesen-assassins (and also, coincidentally, part of the actual Portland police). The show is structured like a police procedural which is pretty exciting and usually works, although the rate at which Nick and his partner Hank are racking up the inexplicably solved crimes has to be registering in the department soon. Even if the chief of police is on their side, they close a LOT of cases with, basically, "yeah, we got the guy. Can't tell you how, though."

Characters:
OUAT certainly has the stronger female characters. It is populated with vibrant, powerful, agentive women who run the gamut from nurturing earth-mother types to brassy ball-busters (and a lot in between). Some believe in love; others fear it. Some crave power; others embrace it.

Grimm's female characters, on the other hand, usually function as victims or villains. Often they are victims of gruesome and violent crimes that Nick and Hank solve. Rosalee is starting to become pretty heroic in her own right, and her knowledge of herbs has certainly saved the day more than once. Juliette, while she started out as a victim who Nick was keeping in the dark, has started to show some agency of her own. She turned Nick down when he proposed, saying that she wouldn't commit until he started being honest with her. Now that she's in on his secret identity, she helps him out from time to time, mostly with advice, internet searches, and a listening ear. And of course there's still Nick's mom, the unknown quantity, who is definitely an ass-kicker (but whose side is she on?).

My favorite woman on Grimm is certainly Adalind, the former Hexenbiest (sort of like a witch, but her true form is a lot uglier) turned normal, turned back into Hexenbiest during her pregnancy with the uber-Hexenbiest. While she certainly has been a villain up to now (and sometimes a victim--what was with that weird tongue-bitey scene with Nick in first season?), her status as the mother of Renard's (?) child may land her on the good-guy side. No matter what side she's on, though, she's a joy to watch on screen. Her turns from bitchy to saccharine to hair-pulling frustration are completely believable.

Dialogue:
You'll notice I didn't go into detail above about my favorite female characters on OUAT. It is so hard for me to separate a character from the dialogue they're given to speak. I really like Regina, but she has some of the show's worst lines. For instance, from this past week's episode: "Never bring your heart to a witchfight." Ughhhh--my eyes are rolling back in my head and I'm gagging from how gross that line is.

The show also depends heavily on clunky old chestnuts like "Love conquers all" and "magic always comes with a price." This season it's been the idea of "evil vs. wicked," since the new villain is the Wicked Witch of the West. They hammer that in at least twice an episode. This week we were cursed (ha ha) with the following exchange, from the Evil Queen and the Wicked Witch, respectively:

Regina: "This isn't the Wild West."
Zelena: "No dearie, it's the Wicked West."

The writers also depend heavily on puns and references to Disney movies. As Adam Grosswirth notes, this all adds up to some really campy dialogue. I have no problem with camp--after all, Buffy is one of my favorite shows ever--but something about the delivery in this show seems off to me.

I much prefer the less heavy-handed writing and delivery of Grimm. There are no oft-repeated cliches here, even though the characters might bear reminding that magic has a price. Monroe, Nick's best friend/go-to wesen, delivers some very cheesy lines for a vegan werewolf. But even those are played off as part of his character--Monroe is very sincere and has a sense of humor that would look good on any middle-aged dad. And the delivery, generally, is subtler and more offhand, even in the moments where shit. goes. down. For instance, OUAT probably averages one St. Crispin's Day speech (y'know, the speech where the charismatic leader inspires their rag-tag group of friends, reminding that they are fighting for something amazing and that bravery is what counts, ad infinitum) every four or five episodes. I can't think of any in Grimm.

Which is cool by me, because (and maybe this is because I just don't get into enough skirmishes with evil warlocks) I have never personally heard a St. Crispin's Day speech in real life.

Plot and Storytelling:
The final bone I have to pick with OUAT is its lazy storytelling. I really appreciate some of the interesting plot developments that the writers have come up with; they've managed to connect several canonical fantasy worlds (LOTR next, right guys?) and have all the characters link up. Rumplestiltskin is a sort of lynchpin for all of this: he is Peter Pan's son, and "the Dark One," a sort of general villain for many stories, and the Beast to Belle's Beauty, etc. His old lover Cora is the mother of the Evil Queen, the miller's daughter who Rumplestiltskin teaches to spin gold out of straw, and the Queen of Hearts in Wonderland. And the connections go on.

But the conflicts themselves are generally resolved by some sort of deus ex machina magical implement that has not been referenced in the story yet. Characters just happen to remember the existence of this [knife/root/potion/parchment/box/cauldron] at the right moment to dispel the crisis and then, half of the time, it is never mentioned again.

Grimm on the other hand does a pretty good job of setting up major plot points well in advance. Nick's magic key, the golden coins, Adalind's crazy-magic baby? All set up several episodes (or even seasons) in advance. It probably helps that Nick has an inherited stockpile of books and weapons, each of which has helped out in specific situations, and that Rosalee runs an herb shop specifically tailored to help out with spells and magical ailments. The closest we get to deus ex machina is when Nick mentions some new kind of wesen he has encountered, and MonRosalee look at each other like "Oh, shit," and reveal that they've heard of that specific breed since childhood but thought it was a story, like the wesen version of the Easter Bunny.

The ultimate point is, I watch both shows with great enjoyment. And even though I love to trash certain aspects of OUAT, it's also contributed to honing my taste as I think about why, exactly, it drives me crazy.