Over the past decade-and-a-half, television has seemingly entered a golden age. A number of shows have become critically adored, with new heights achieved in acting, writing, and directing. Despite this, I was able to remain almost completely oblivious to almost every critically acclaimed television show that has debuted since 1999, only hearing about how good these shows were and how I was missing out. This week I’ll look at the night I spent with True Detective. Sorry, no steamy details included.

Why I didn’t watch it in the first place: True Detective was one of a trio of recent shows that I wanted to watch but was unable to because I didn’t have HBO. Of the three, this one was the real driving force behind getting a hold of an HBO Go account because of the insane amount of hype it was getting. It felt to me like I was truly missing a piece of television history (I was also getting a bit annoyed with people talking about it and not knowing what the hell was going on). After finally getting the account I decided to wait until the middle of the night to start watching (similar to the way I watched Hannibal) because I knew the show was rather dark and figured it would add to the experience. I originally planned on watching it over two nights, but after finishing episode four, I decided that I couldn’t in good conscience stop there and ended up finishing the entire season that night. It was well worth it.

What did I think of it: Alright, alright, alright. I apologize for that, but when talking about Matthew McConaughey, I am bound by ancient decree to begin the discussion with that line. With the McConaugh-gods sated, I can back to the business at hand. Watching True Detective in one sitting is what I imagine having a fever dream would feel like, with the stream of dark images and dreary philosophical ramblings entering my brain and effectively turning it to mush as the final credits of the final episode started to run. Watching the events unfold was wearying and somewhat depressing, with a number of moments being difficult to watch. With that being said, I couldn’t bring myself to stop watching because it was so well done.

Much as with Hannibal, I was able to avoid spoilers before watching, which was of particular importance with this show because the entire season revolved around a single mystery. The central mystery, which deals with a series of abductions and murders along the Gulf Coast of Louisiana, is interesting enough, and it provides a number of tense moments, but in reality the mystery is less interesting than the two main characters, Detectives Marty Hart and Rust Cohle, played by Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaughey, respectively. The show chronicles the development of these characters and their relationship as they investigate the murders and the repercussions the investigation has on their lives.

Harrelson and McConaughey are uniformly excellent, with Cohle’s half-existential/half-nonsense philosophy and Hart’s common-man way of life playing off each other perfectly, and both reach a level I did not think either was capable of reaching. I was a fan of both before watching this show, but came out of it with a new found respect for both, and McConaughey in particular blew me away. McConaughey gives Cohle an almost other-worldly feel, as if he’s just visiting Earth for a while, with the exception of a couple of truly heartbreaking emotional breakdowns that betray his humanity. (Side note: the amount of smoking Cohle does throughout the season makes me believe that he won a contest where he won a lifetime supply of cigarettes.)

One of the most interesting aspects of the show is the setting. Louisiana has a certain mystique about it (at least to an outsider like me), due in part to its unusual history. Its position along the Gulf Coast has made it a destination for all kinds of people, bringing with them a variety of cultures that have mixed with and seeped into one another, creating a place unlike any other. The cinematography really accentuates the setting through the use of extreme long shots that linger over the landscapes, capturing the details of a revival church or an ancient fortress called Carcosa. Southern Louisiana is just so much different from anywhere I’ve ever seen that it lends the show a disquieting tone.

The symbols used throughout True Detective also add to the level of discomfort. A number of interesting symbols are used during the first murder scene, the most unsettling of which was a stick sculpture. During a later episode, Cohle finds a room full of the stick sculptures, meaning that a number of other murders have taken place. These sculptures made me uncomfortable because they were made of something from nature but felt so unnatural, like they didn’t belong in natural, or anywhere in the world. The symbols used to describe the killer, The Yellow King and a man with a spaghetti face and green ears, are also extremely creepy (Good news, though: the killer does end up being extremely creepy). The whole show just has a creeping feeling that gets under the skin.

The standout scene of the season, both in terms of style and action, occurs at the end of episode 4 (This scene is the main reason I decided to keep watching after originally deciding to stop after that episode). The scene, which shows Cohle (who is undercover in a biker gang in order to get information about a drug maker who is connected with the murders) and a group of bikers breaking into a drug-dealer’s house to steal his supply and the shootout that follows, consists of a single long take lasting nearly six minutes and is filmed using a hand-held camera. From a technical standpoint, the scene is practically unbelievable, as the camera follows Cohle through several houses as he attempts to avoid getting killed. By using a long take, the audience is not distracted by any edits, which means that the viewer isn’t given a break from the action on screen. The use of a hand-held camera gives an urgency to the scene and immerses the viewer in the action, making it feel as if they are part of the action. This scene, in my opinion, is the most breathtaking moment of True Detective.

Watching this show was an experience. I was aware of the hype, and it did not disappoint in the least. It was well worth losing a night of sleep to watch it in one sitting. It also reinforced my desire to never go back to southern Louisiana, which is just below my desire to avoid the parts of Florida that aren’t Orlando.

Over the past decade-and-a-half, television has seemingly entered a golden age. A number of shows have become critically adored, with new heights achieved in acting, writing, and directing. Despite this, I was able to remain almost completely oblivious to almost every critically acclaimed television show that has debuted since 1999, only hearing about how good these shows were and how I was missing out.

“How could this be?” you may ask.

“He must not own a TV, or else he has been in a 14-year long coma, or maybe he’s really into some kind of solitaire and that takes up most of his time.”

I could offer up a variety of reasons: I watch a lot of sports (although, as a Cleveland sports fan, that’s probably not a valid excuse), I’m generally a bigger fan of film, I did not have a Netflix account until late 2013 (what the hell was I thinking?), focusing on school, only being six years old, etc. Regardless, it has come to the point where I can’t have any discussions about good television (if you want to talk about NCIS or Bones, though, I’m your guy). I have recently taken it upon myself to catch up on these television shows, both shows that have already concluded and shows that are still going strong.

The three criteria I used to decide which shows that I will talk about here are:

1)     I did not watch the majority of the episodes during their original air date and

2)    The show is or was critically well received.

3)    The show’s first episode aired after January 1, 1999

In these essays, I will discuss why I originally missed these shows, my reactions after watching them, the qualities that brought them acclaim, and my final opinions. So, without further ado, I’ll start with the show that showed me just how good television could be. (Just a small heads up: I love using parentheses, so there’s a bunch of them.)

Why I didn’t watch it in the first place: I actually watched the first episode on its original air date, and I remember enjoying it well enough, but for one reason or another (probably a combination of mountains of schoolwork and reservation about a seemingly unnecessary addition to the Hannibal Lecter story) I ended up just DVRing the series and then proceeded to completely forget about it. I eventually remembered about the recordings, and decided to start again from the beginning. I ended up watching the entire season over the course of three nights, which was a wise decision as it really added to the atmosphere of the show.

What did I think of the show: I’ll get this out of the way right at the outset: Hannibal was the first show that I truly fell in love with (not counting shows I watched when I was six). Everything about it perfectly clicked for me. The show took what appeared to be tired property (Hannibal Rising…yikes) and ran with it full throttle to create something that I had never experienced before.

Luckily, I started watching close enough to the original airing that I didn’t encounter any major spoilers or catch wind of any major plot points (due in no small part to NBC’s…lackluster advertizing for the show). I was aware of some of the big plot points through knowledge of the Hannibal Lecter movies (Wait, he eats people? You’re telling me that Hannibal…is a…cannibal? But those rhyme…), but I had no idea about the direction that the show would go in to maintain continuity within this already-constructed universe. This allowed me to truly appreciate what I was watching, especially the final scene of the season, which pays homage to Silence of the Lambs but reversed the roles of the Hannibal and the FBI agent to great effect.

The acting is excellent from top to bottom. The two standouts are Hugh Dancy and Mads Mikkelsen, who play Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter, respectively. Before watching Hannibal, I had never heard of Hugh Dancy, but he does an amazing job as Graham. He manages to capture the feelings and emotions of someone who is slowly coming apart at the seams, bringing a real physicality to the illness he is suffering while never pushing into scene-chewing territory. The forensic psychologist has become a recurring character on television, but Graham is worlds apart from those other representatives.

The real driving force behind the show, though, is Mads Mikkelsen. Unlike Hugh Dancy, I was familiar with Mikkelsen before watching, having seen him in the film Valhalla Rising. I was aware of his immense acting talent, and he brings all of it Hannibal. The man is a living advertisement for the phrase “Less is more”. Mikkelsen’s biggest strength is his incredible ability to say as much with his subtle facial expressions as he can with his words (If you are familiar with Valhalla Rising, then you are aware of his ability, as he doesn’t say one word in the whole film). He is able to imbue Lecter with a quiet sophistication that I couldn’t help but enjoy, even though I was well aware that he was a serial killer, which was also helped by his darkly comic timing (which is also exhibited by Dancy). He was faced with the unenviable task of portraying a character that had already been seen on screen twice (I’m not counting you, Hannibal Rising) and already was indelibly connected with one actor in particular.

Above all else, the hallmark of Hannibal is its style. A masterclass on the way style can add to a story, Hannibal features a number of stylistic elements that greatly enhance the atmosphere and emotion of the show. From the use of color to create a dreamy ambiance on screen to the carefully designed settings and the staging of crime scenes, it seems as if every stylistic choice has been meticulously thought out for maximum effect. There are a number of impressive visuals throughout the show, but arguably the most stylistically striking choice made is the use of a stag to symbolize Hannibal Lecter’s relationship with Will Graham. The stag is at once inviting and sinister, calm but at the same time menacing. It mirrors Hannibal’s ability to lure people in with his kindness and charm while hiding his murderous persona.

One aspect of style that stands out in particular is Hannibal’s cinematography, which is used to great effect. The camera movements have a sort of grace to them, contrasting the gruesome images appearing on the screen, providing a certain elegance not found in the real world. The cinematography acts as an invitation to watch these dreams. For example, a particularly powerful image that has stuck with me is of Dr. Chilton, head of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane (played masterfully by Raul Esparza) holding a basket of his own organs like a basket of fruit. The idea of holding your own organs is horrifying, but the way that the scene is shot gives it a sort of macabre elegance. The same could be said for the “angels” whose wings are made from the skin off their backs. The visuals of Hannibal are beautiful yet grotesque, and are so vivid that they stay and linger in the mind.

What I love more than anything else, though, is the show’s willingness to take chances. Bryan Fuller could have easily put out a case-of-the-week style show with an overarching story (something akin to House) and might have gotten away with it because of the name recognition of Hannibal Lecter. Instead, though, he decided to go a different route, focusing more on the characters, their decisions, and the beauty in the macabre (Apparently, after watching the first episode, Fuller decided to rewrite the most, if not all, of the season because he realized that “case-of-the-week” was not the right way to go with the story). Hannibal challenges the viewer with both its visuals and its characters’ choices, which, in my opinion, is the most you can ask from a show.

As I said at the beginning, I love Hannibal. This was the first show of any prestige for which I watched every episode. The amount of time and care put into each episode showed me what television could be. For someone who is partial to film, this seems like the perfect entry point into the world of television.

To finish things off, here are a couple Hannibal jokes:

•      A red carpet reporter asking Jame “Buffalo Bill” Gumb the question “Who are you wearing?”
•   The phrase “I’ve got your back” takes on a whole new meaning when said by Hannibal Lecter.

Those are free. You’re welcome.