Directed by: Nic Pizzolatto, Daniel Sackheim, Jeremy Saulnier
Distributed by: HBO
Written by Alexander Reams
88/100
Nic Pizzolatto stepped back from his iconic HBO series after the critical butchery that “Western Book of the Dead” was met with, and after four years of silence, he answers that with a much quieter story than previous seasons. Instead of loud, boisterous cinematography, performances, or music from Nick Cave that seems to shake the frame with each guitar riff, Pizzolatto crafts a quiet contemplation on failure and misplaced masculinity. His symbol of this is the quiet but disconcertful Wayne Hays (Mahershala Ali), a Vietnam War vet who (as was the emotion among many vets) feels forgotten, an idea analyzed in many forms but with the idea of masculinity in misplaced situations.
Hays is introduced in three periods: 1980, when the children disappear and he begins his investigation; in 1990, when the investigation is reopened and its effects on Hays’s mental state and marriage; and in 2015, wherein Hays now suffering from dementia tries to find some form of conclusion to this great mystery in his life. It’s the same format that worked through “Long Bright Dark,” and it’s clear Pizzolatto understands non-linear from the get-go, and the atmosphere of that season is prevalent throughout. Each time period focuses on Hays as its lead, but the secondary performance shifts: the 1980 timeline features Stephen Dorff as Roland West, Hays’s partner; 1990 features Carmen Ejogo as Hays’s wife, Amelia, and finally; 2015 showcases the brilliant talents of Ray Fisher as Hays’s son, Henry.
As each time period progresses, there is the unfortunate “settle” time that many limited series run into; the first few episodes only provide intrigue if you truly buy into the show and give it your undivided attention, which requires multiple watches to fully grasp the layered story that Pizzolatto has elected to tell. Most of which is found in the 1990 storyline, where the investigation is reopened. Dorff and Ali shine brightest here, with West and Hays fully amplified by bitterness and ego, and the added tension of the latter’s marriage deteriorating by the day makes this time spent with these characters well worth the non-starter pace of the early episodes.
There’s also the natural dread within each season that is found within the troubled life of Brett Woodard (Michael Greyeyes), who serves as the catalyst for the climatic mid-season action set piece that is surprisingly toned down. With previous episodes “Who Goes There” and “Down Will Come” being stylistically and technically noticeable, “The Hour and Day” and “If You Have Ghosts” rely on the personal dread of Woodard’s predicament and the brutal violence. The violence is effective, and the natural anticlimactic emotion that follows the shootout fits perfectly within this season, where the camera spends more time on Hays’s reaction to the fallout from the carnage than the carnage itself.
The idea of Hays seems to come out of the revisionism in masculine ideologies that have been a subject of controversy within the social zeitgeist, and while this is not an open forum for that discussion, what “Modern Memory” provides is the groundwork for a conversation on misplaced masculinity, or it seems that way until “If You Have Ghosts” which turns the season into a different thematic journey, focused on reconciliation between West and Hays in their later years while Hays haphazardly tries to recall his past. Unfortunately, this does not hold nearly as much interest as its thoughts on masculinity.
“The Great War and Modern Memory” is a brilliant answer to all of the critical fire Pizzolatto took during “Western Book’s” run on television; instead of going all out, he crafted a smaller story that showcases the talents of every performer in the show. Down to the fantastic role Steven Wiliams as Mr. June in the final episodes, a role that could very well taint the melancholic finale that it was intended to be, but instead provides humanity to the indecency that only occurred because of–and this is the true “True Detective” specialty–abuse of power. Pizzolatto has this theme throughout each season; it’s the thematic undertone that connects them. “True Detective” doesn’t exist without power being abused, and the stories wouldn’t be nearly as interesting. But there’s still an element missing from this season. The idea of misplaced masculinity that Pizzolatto threads early on seems to be forgotten in lieu of an idea about reconciliation and memory that fades in and out of the later half of the season. The question of “what if” with this season will always be there, especially now that it was Pizzolatto’s final season. “Modern Memory” is a strange entry in “True Detective,” but one that justifies its existence purely because of the power that is Mahershala Ali.
“True Detective” Season 3 Trailer
You can connect with Alexander on his social media profiles: Instagram, Letterboxd, and Twitter. Or see more of his work on his website.