The show opens with possibly the most Soderberghy shot that’s ever been captured on camera. Ever since the Che duo, Soderbergh’s digital work has been known for producing slightly blown-out whites and a slight softness to combat the normal digital cleanliness. We see the feet of Dr. Thackery chilling in a basement which resembles either a room in Hell or the set of Nicolas Winding Refn movie. Then we see a completely naked woman stroll by. This illustrates Thackery’s debauchery before we even get a look at the upper half of his body, but it also gives a better look at Soderbergh’s approach for the rest of the episode. This woman is out of focus just as everything other than the shoes is in the frame (it reminds one of Soderbergh’s The Girlfriend Experience, which features Sasha Grey as a call girl who prefers talk over action, and who gets exactly one money shot). The shoes over the people.
Some people accuse Soderbergh of being a “clinical” filmmaker. Those people have obviously not seen King of the Hill or Solaris, but that’s besides the point. He’s only clinical when he needs to be. To name one recent example, the male strippers of Magic Mike are projecting an image so strong that the camera cannot go past it while they dance. The word these people are clearly looking for is “methodical”. Soderbergh is a man of method, and how one step leads to another. Even a documentary like And Everything is Going Fine does this, showing clips of Spalding Gray which seem deceptively benign but reveal deep, penetrating truths about the man, leading into more truths on the matter revealed in the next piece of footage. The most obvious use of this technique is in Contagion, where each scene is a domino, but what I kept flashing to during this first episode is Che. By all accounts, Che and its lukewarm response may have led Soderbergh to take a sabbatical from cinema, but it’s arguably one of the most important pieces in the still-ongoing Soderbergh puzzle. In part one, we see a series of not-necessarily-connected scenes placed in a certain order. At first glance, it may seem to be haphazardly put-together, but each scene is there for a reason. As the film goes on, and these incidents pile up, morale grows, Che’s troops become more confident and ultimately take Cuba. In part two, we almost get the first film viewed in reverse. Like this episode, part two is shot entirely handheld, and the gorgeous green vistas of part one are replaced by a neverending jungle of greys and blues. Even the aspect ratio is closing in on Che, going from anamorphic 2.35:1 to 1.78:1. Once again, we get a series of events, this time leading to the alienation of Che’s troops and his ultimate assassination. Obviously, this is one part of a ten part series, the consequences of the actions done in this episode will likely continue week-to-week. But the same focus on minutiae and small action is present here. Shots like the first one, or the one of the dead horse, or the one of the struggle with keeping the blood in jars, or the one of the bath procedure used to help the second pregnant woman’s baby, they add to a portrait. Not just a portrait of how shitty living in 1900 New York must have been (it must have been real shitty), but a portrait of what these characters have to go against. Just as Che’s men will rise to overthrow Batista, Thackery and the team at The Knick will make the world a healthier place, one misstep at a time.
Not to say this episode was perfect, of course. The writing is not up to snuff with Soderbergh’s marvelous direction, and it’s going at least one step too far by making Thackery a racist, genius asshole (EDIT: Thankfully, they have addressed that in later episodes). But Soderbergh hasn’t let a mediocre script get in the way of making brilliant cinema before (Ocean’s Twelve was originally written to be something other than an Ocean’s movie, after all, and if nothing else, that movie is a directing masterstroke for Soderbergh), and it looks like he isn’t here. Can’t wait to see more and ramble on about the cinematic techniques (I’m sure you’re thrilled as well).
Grade: A-
The Soderbergh Players: Michael Angarano (who plays Bertie) had previously portrayed the man with the bad luck of tagging along with Gina Carano on her determined mission to kick ass in Haywire.
Behind the camera, the Soderbergh Band is back together, so to speak. Soderbergh shoots and edits the episode under the usual pseudonyms. The episode (and the rest of the show) is scored by Cliff Martinez, who’s literally been with Soderbergh since the beginning, scoring all of his movies from sex, lies to Gray’s Anatomy, plus The Limey, Traffic, Solaris, and Contagion. The production designer is Howard Cummings, who goes all the way back to The Underneath, and who acted as the PD on all of Soderbergh’s films from Contagion on. The film’s casting director is Carmen Cuba, who has cast everyone of Soderbergh’s fiction films since The Girlfriend Experience. Gregory Jacobs (who will soon be entering the director’s chair a third time for Magic Mike XXL, to be shot and edited by Soderbergh) once again puts on the double hats of producer and first assistant director. And sound designer Larry Blake has been working with Soderbergh even since his Yes concert film, and they continue their collaboration here.
Stray Observations:
– Cliff Martinez’s wonderful score for this premiere is very much a piece with his ominous electronic score for Contagion. I may very well have smiled like an idiot when the music reached a crescendo as Thackery gave himself his first injection.
– What’s that? It’s time for another episode of The Narrator Talks U2 to U? And it’s actually appropriate for this instance? Anyway, playing Nurse Elkins is the daughter of Bono, Eve Hewson. Thus, my two favorite things to drone on about at length have finally combined, like a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup of obnoxiousness. And that has been another episode of The Narrator Talks U2 to U.
– Great ep, guys.