Mindhunter, Heart Killer
It’s been about two weeks since I finished season two of Mindhunter and my heart won’t let it go. It’s an astonishingly great series that I can comfortably say is in the top five of my all-time favorite TV shows (with only two seasons produced so far). I haven’t felt like this for a show since Mad Men went off air six years ago.
They share many of the same qualities that draw me in and grab hold of something deep within me. It’s a connection that’s so genuine it hurts, while at the same time translates to experiencing bits of nirvana. I am not a person that believes in perfection in creative endeavors, but some moments in these shows sure represent an idea of perfection.
The shared attributes that equal these moments of serenity are based in the similar ways the shows are constructed. From slow methodical plotting, to the use of tone, looks, and context to allow so much to happen with so little. Building in layered, complex characters, juggling separate lives at work and home, creates natural but dynamic interactions and conflict. Add in the setting of the modern past, which allows for a retrospective layer of epoch, using the hindsight understanding of the era to find universal struggles that are still consistent today.
But for me, there is one over arching aspect that binds all of these together.
Restraint.
This is the hallmark of both these shows. Speaking specifically to Mindhunter, it knows what it wants to share and what it doesn’t. It knows what it needs to share and what it doesn’t. It is such an efficient show, that I am constantly wanting more.
But it’s methodical story telling lives in the moment, showing up in a scene when it needs to and getting out when it’s achieved it’s purpose. This is easier said than done. It’s an elusive technique that is difficult to master, but rewards everyone when executed properly. And this show executes.
I want more, but it gives me exactly what I need. I hang on every word, every scene, pulling everything I can from it. My heart beats from even the most seemingly mundane conversations.
An example of this confidence of restraint is shown through one specific moment in season two. At the midpoint of the season a big plot moment develops that felt a bit out of step with the tone, focus, and structure of the show. It had a hint of the melodramatic and had me very worried that this was going to be a turning point for the show, ‘jumping the shark’ and reaching for storylines. I reserved judgment, allowing it to play out and in hindsight, they unsurprisingly handled it with aplomb, doing the opposite, expanding the scope and layers of the show.
They retained control by keeping the story in the present, with the world continuing on. The incident loaded the involved characters with extra burden, but the world and the job doesn’t stop. The characters must compartmentalize their lives and so must the audience, quelling any chance of the melodramatic. In a moment that could create distance and feel forced, turned out to be the most real, the most palpable the show has ever felt.
These tools of restraint and presence work together to keep the audience with the characters on the screen at this moment. It elevates the scene dynamics, allowing for natural and unexpected conflict, keeping the attention of the audience in each scene, because there is distinct value in every scene.
Along with an increased focus on our characters’ personal lives, this translates to a deeper connection with them. The further peak behind the curtain of our characters in season two was extraordinarily effective. The relatability, or at least understanding, for all the characters, main and supporting, was something that I have not felt since Mad Men.
Each person is fighting their own personal battles and regardless of how much you see on screen of these battles, you can sense it. There are no caricatures, just true people, motivated by true intentions.
But all of this efficiency needs a balance and that plays into one of the main constructs of the show — interviewing serial killers. These scenes are lengthy, almost played in realtime, allowing our characters room to breath, show their skills, and indulge in the philosophy, dichotomy, and psychology of the human mind and instincts.
They are gripping and fascinating to watch, setting up a reverence in the show when they are happening. It’s the core on which the show is built out from and they have never lost sight of this through the two seasons. They are there, giving context to everything in the show, while many times casting a dark shadow.
Having this core foundation, helps the creators to stay grounded and focused, even when the interviews themselves are not driving particular episodes. It instills confidence and informs restraint. The primary storylines are built from this foundation (though not necessarily paralleled from), driving the meticulous layering, pacing, and story plotting, allowing them to build out the world and tone with a steady hand.
All of this adds up to a rare show both in concept and execution. Because while the show has a direction, it doesn’t mean it has a destination. The show inevitably is not leading anywhere finite.
What is happening now, is happening now. It will soon be the past, and the future the present. Nothing will end though, life around our characters will continue on, and so will they. There is no resolution.
This is freeing and ultimately leads to relying and focusing on the characters. And they have created strong characters, top to bottom that are deeply relatable though their flaws and passions. I connect with them, I root for them, I hurt for them, I’m captivated by them.
And I’m captivated by this show, that is visceral and palpable. Crafted with incredible balance, confidence, and self-control with the story, characters, and mood, it’s a startling piece of television that I can’t help watching with an aching joy in my heart. Much like Mad Men.
