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Deadwood

This was also posted at the WOW Report.

I’m a whore for “true stories." Give me any old movie, no matter how low rent, campy, or dreadful, put “based on a true story” under the title and I’m hooked. Remember Auto Focus? Loved it. Prefontaine? Loved it so much I actually considered taking his name.

So it’s no surprise that I’ve taken a liking to Deadwood, HBO’s new western. It has everything one can ask for in a show: prostitutes, murderers, gamblers, heroes--and in all combinations. Al Swearengen makes the ultimate bad guy, with his utter lack of morals and all. Seth Bullock, otherwise known as Montana, makes a great reluctant hero, as did Wild Bill.

To tell you the truth, the whole thing seems like Tombstone made for episodic television. But without the wit of Doc Holiday. It has its problems though. Take the recent killing of Wild Bill. The writers have taken some leeway here, which was inevitable. In truth, he should have died a few episodes ago at the hand of that angry brother and the murderer’s brother should have died in Kansas. What about Calamity Jane? Turns out she was married to Wild Bill, at least that’s the claim, and they meet in Deadwood. Jane was also known to be a little loose with her charms, if the pay was right. But isn’t inaccuracy part of the genre’s greatness? Everyone’s life needs a little rewriting.

What it lacks in accuracy, it more than makes up for in drama. In four episodes the dead count is already at 12. It reminds me of the good old days of Oz. Almost all the dead came from episode one, a good way to draw an audience. Then there’s the conflict; I have high hopes for Joanie Stubbs’ new saloon, and not just because she’s hot.

But my favorite part of Deadwood has to be that creepy little girl. Village of the Damned anyone?