Tim Cooper: “Well, buenas dias.”
Marco Ruiz: “Howdy, pardner.”
The Bridge, a remix of a Scandinavian TV series, examines the aftereffects of an astonishing gambit: someone shuts off the lights on the Bridge of the Americas, which connects El Paso and Juarez, and drops a body right across the border. We quickly discover that there’s even more to it than that. What appeared to be one bisected body is actually pieces of two different women: an upper-middle-class (white) anti-immigration judge from El Paso, and a young factory worker from Juarez.*
The concept of a border is fascinating, no matter what kind of border it is: on a map, as a conceptual division, as a categorical limitation. But a border is more than just a line separating two places: the border is itself a place, and nowhere is that more true than in the case of the American/Mexican border.
In the pilot episode, sadly, The Bridge focuses mostly on El Paso, but it seems soon the show will start to examine both Juarez and the idea of the expanded border as the Chihuahua State Police and the El Paso Police combine forces to solve a murder that—on its face—has political motivations.
The show is off to a good start with the basics. Language is constantly at stake, with characters altering their language for given situations and offering translation; Mexican characters speak to other Mexican characters in Spanish (except in one important scene between the male lead and his son) which is a blessed bit of reality on American TV, which usually follows the dictates of Billie's Rule Number Nine. And if you know even a bit of Spanish, you’ll see the many jokes embedded in the conversation up top, which shows how language can be used as a tool of divisiveness as well as communication.
A show can’t thrive on an idea, though. Characters make it happen, and The Bridge seems to be batting about .750 in that regard. Diane Kruger’s El Paso detective clearly has Asperger’s, even though no one comes out and says it for reasons that I don’t understand, since the show does everything but put a big neon “Aspie” light on top of her head like a halo.
I’m not a huge fan of the current trend of using Asperger’s as a substitution for creating an actual character: people with Asperger’s aren’t all alike, and aren’t going to “learn to be human” (as one reviewer put it in a shockingly offensive statement) just by interacting with people more. That’s just not how neurological difference works. But I do understand the reason Asperger’s has been so popular on TV of late: it creates so many opportunities for conflicts and misunderstandings, especially since no one in TVLand seems to be able to know how to relate to an Aspie, the same way that no one in TVLand understands the rules for zombies or the significance of a meet-cute.
So far, the real standout is Demian Bichir’s Marco Ruiz, the Chihuahua State Police detective who pairs with Kruger. Bichir, who was nominated for an Oscar for his work in A Better Life, is incredibly charismatic, and I love the way that the writers let the actor create a character with just a few key scenes, including one great bit involving pan dulce. I hope the showrunners—including Homeland’s Meredith Stiehm—allow Diane Kruger the same opportunity to do more with less.
I assume they will. Although I didn’t love the pilot, it is clear that the masterminds behind The Bridge know what they are doing. In addition to the basics of the murder investigation, they have introduced so-far unconnected plot threads involving Annabeth Gish as the widow of a horse rancher, Matthew Lillard as a good-for-nothing reporter, and some random guy with a trailer doing stuff I don’t understand. These threads will come together soon, and Stiehm promised that the murder would be solved at the end of the first season.
While that promise will be welcomed by those of us who were burned by the last Scandinavian import we all watched, I think it’s beside the point. The Bridge has the potential to explore some fascinating issues in terms of how place can affect identity, the politics of language, and the very idea of borders themselves—not to mention the skyrocketing murder rates in border towns like Juarez and Tijuana, and what (if anything) police in El Paso and San Diego should be doing about it.
Three out of four horses.
*It occurred to me as I was writing this review that the place-names might be really confusing for our international readers. El Paso is in Texas (the US); Juarez is in the state of Chihuahua (Mexico). They're not really two cities; they are one big city that straddles a national border.
Josie Kafka is a full-time cat servant and part-time rogue demon hunter. (What's a rogue demon?)
I loved the original, but I'm not sure about giving the remake a go. The Killing has made me cautious about US remakes of brilliant Scandinavian crime dramas.
ReplyDeleteI just finished watching this for the new shows column and was blown away by it. I love the political implications and I already like the interactions between all the characters.
ReplyDeleteWhat I like best of all is that the audience is treated like a thinking being. Not all of the plot lines make sense yet, but that's OK. The writers understand that we don't need every detail spelled out for us, then spelled out again. I am looking forward to watching this story unfold.
What I've chosen to learn from this review: there is a Mexican/Scandinavian border. Can't be unlearned. Now I will never win The Amazing Race and I can blame Josie.
ReplyDelete...is The Amazing Race still on?
Dear god, do I say that somewhere in the review?! Where? Where! Let me fix it before anyone else finds out that I'm often an idiot!
ReplyDeleteOh God, no! You absolutely did not say that. Breathe a sigh of relief. I just was thinking if this was Scandinavian originally, it obviously couldn't have been about the US/Mexican border and then my brain went places and I can't quite find it now.
ReplyDeleteWhew! That is totally the sort of harebrained mistake I would make, so I'm really happy I didn't make it here. (You don't take offense at the term "harebrained," do you, Sunbunny?)
ReplyDelete(Fun mistake I did make when I first posted this review: I looked up Diane Kruger's name on IMDb, which listed it as "Sonya North." I decided not to double-check that, and I made fun of the name two or three different times in the review. Then I discovered that her name is really "Sonya Cross," which isn't as easy to make fun of, although it still has potential.)
Why do people always assume we bunnies are harebrained?
ReplyDelete"Sonya North" sounds like a Westros bastard name. Maybe she works as a scullery maid in Winterfell.
I read one review that called Diane Kruger "the whitest actress they could find" (or something like that). I like to think her name's a nod to that.
ReplyDeleteJust saw it and I thought it was fascinating, for all of the reasons you all have already said. (Although I'm also confused about the Mexican/Scandinavian border.
ReplyDeleteThough, seriously, I loved Marco Ruiz to bits. He seems like a good man trying to do his best in a bad situation while managing to retain his dedication and sense of humor. I loved the references to his vasectomy and how he was walking just a bit gingerly throughout the entire episode. I liked Sonia, too. You have a point about caricature, Josie, so I'm hoping they'll do a good job with her character. She certainly held my interest.
It occurred to me as I was writing this review that the place-names might be really confusing for our international readers. El Paso is in Texas (the US); Juarez is in the state of Chihuahua (Mexico).
ReplyDeleteSadly, no. Juarez is internationally famous for all those murders of women.
Dunno about this one - it's hard to think of a US remake I've liked better than the original. Although I do like the idea of the border issues being quite different in the US/Mexico.
Gavrielle
FINALLY got around to this. I'm not totally sold, but I was intrigued enough to want to watch the next episode, at least. I agree about loving Marco Ruiz. He seems so real. It was also great to see Ted Levine!
ReplyDelete