With Netflix’s attempt at Lemony Snicket’s infamous, a word which here means “well known due to it’s dark and dismal recounting of the plight of the Baudelaire orphans”, book series, I see how sometimes the empty nostalgia that so often permeates our current productions of television and film (*cough* Force Awakens *cough*) can be completely rectified by a series like this one. The overall tone of the series is almost a carbon copy of that in the book, to which also garnered deserved critical acclaim. (It, the series, isn’t entirely a carbon copy mostly due to the fact that it wouldn’t be a book after the carbon copying. And If you just filmed the book, it would be rather boring and also not be a carbon copy.)
It, the series, is quite a quirky production. And it could easily be said that that was also what was envoked in the book. The story, as it stands, follows the Baudelaire orphans as the embark through the events of the first four books, the series being 8 episodes with two episodes per book. There are two reasons why I’m not going to go too in depth with the examination of the book:
1. I don’t want to give away any spoilers. This is quite important considering that enemies are around every corner and I do not wish to give them too much of a head start while the Baudelaires are trying to navigate the terrible circumstances of their lives.
2. I haven’t finished the series yet… Nobody’s perfect.
But while I watched the show, I realized how very innovative the entirety of the series, the word “series” here meaning “the books and television show in concert with each other”, was/is. Its usage of language to dissect not only the events that were occurring, but also to clue the reader into the tangential role of the author/also character-in-the-narrative Lemony Snicket. His journey trying to chronicle the misfortune of the children is just as important as the events themselves.
While there is the freedom of having the separation of the narration in a novel to display this additive information, the televisions series does it in the way of breaking the fourth wall and having the author (portrayed with pitch perfect deadpan by Patrick Warburton) directly at the audience. There is never a moment in the show where there isn’t a subtle wink to the idea that it is indeed a television program despite the truly abysmal happenings on the screen (often times taking a moment to give the audience a warning or a meaning of a term, like “dramatic irony”, or having a slight fun with a pun or two, despite there truly being nothing playful about the events that occur). And all of this makes sense when it becomes known that Daniel Handler, a close friend and confidante of Lemony Snicket’s, is a writer of many of the episodes and an executive producer, of the show as a whole.
Irrelevant to the postmodern thematics of it all, The is also enthralling and important, which is a novel concept in many regards when one thinks of prestige television, which I believe this show strives for. It does not have the gravitas of Mad Men or Game of Thrones, but it’s prestige comes from it being well-made and holding ones attention. The performances of the actors, particularly Neil Patrick Harris in the role of Count Olaf, are extremely compelling. The tonality which harkens back to Adams Family like charm perfectly frame the bright parts of life that surround the Baudelaire children constant misery. I’m sure if the show was given a typically schedule on a broadcast channel, I have no doubt that it would retain enough viewers to just the second season that has already been granted. Which, considering the subject matter at hand, is an indictment of the whole of America, a phrase which here means “we’re all awful”.
The whole of the show, or at least as far as I have gotten, is a well made tragedy that has no moments of joy or happiness to think of, nor would one expect there to be. And while it has the potential to ruin your entire evening, or afternoon (, or mid-morning), I am sure that there will be many of you that will find themselves glue to the screen, reveling in the schadenfreude (a word which here means ” pleasure derived from the misfourtune of others”, or put in another “we’re all awful”) of the poor, but still wealthy, Baudelaire. But I beg of you to heed to warning that you, the audience and reader, get from the open lines of the theme music.
Look away, look away…
Shouting into the Void 