Can Jean-Marc Vallée please stay on TV?
While his attempts at Oscar glory have varied in terms of quality, he has a phenomenal track record on the small screen, as proven by the stunning conclusion to HBO’s Sharp Objects. Just as Big Little Lies took the “Real/Desperate Housewives” soapy subgenre and turned it on its head, Sharp Objects reframed the “Dead Girls Mystery” formula we’ve seen repeated on TV screens for years. It turned that formula into a violent exploration of misogyny, abuse, and the way that a history of violence will repeat through generations, even if the victims desperately try to suppress their trauma.
Pulling from the book by Gillian Flynn, and adapted for the screen by TV legend Marti Noxon, Sharp Objects hooked viewers in with a captivating mystery: who was murdering little girls in a tiny Southern town? But, it quickly became clear that this series wasn’t so much interested in solving the mystery. They were more concerned with investigating the suspects and diving into the psyche of our detective by default, reporter Camille Preaker (Amy Adams). While this unusual approach might have been too slow for some, Valée and Noxon crafted a stunningly thorough character study that morphs into a disturbing nightmare in its final two hours.
There are two episodes that specifically warrant praise, the first being “Closer,” a darkly funny episode that stepped away from the mystery to focus on the town of Wind Gap. In it, all the characters gathered for a “Southern Pride” festival (Calhoun Day), in which the town’s teenagers awkwardly reenact a famous chapter of their home’s history – an anecdote that involves sexual violence against a young girl, which is performed for the entertainment of the town. This entire episode is unsparing in the way it mocks those who embrace confederate history but, even better, it thoroughly explains how the town’s history of violence has desensitized the community to even the grisliest of violence… which, in turn, makes everybody a subject.
But this seemingly comedic episode paves the way for Sharp Object’s disturbing final hour, in which Camille learns the truth about who’s murdering the girls… and unearths a shocking secret about her past. The brilliance in the way that Flynn, Noxon, and Valée unveil the truth is that they don’t try to dress up the twist as a shocking reveal. Instead, it feels like a self-fulfilling prophecy: violence and abuse pass themselves down from generation to generation, resulting in what feels more like the last act of a Shakespearean tragedy than a horror movie.
Viewers may complain that the show reveals its final hand too early, but they’re missing the point: the build up to the jaw-dropping cliffhanger isn’t meant to provide clues, but an explanation. We shouldn’t be too surprised at the identity of the killer(s); this has always been a show about women trying to process their violent lives in a world that doesn’t allow them the ability to express negative emotions. So, while someone like Camille might internalize her pain through self-harm, others angrily release their struggles through acts of shocking violence. The last scene isn’t a hint of what’s to come in a theoretical second season; it’s the final piece of evidence that no character is safe from the patriarchal society they’re living in.
And, of course, it showcases a trio of perfect performances.
Amy Adams, long-considered one of the finest actors in her generation, gives her most thoroughly lived-in performance to date. Her work is so subtle and authentic that she appears almost unrecognizable, even if she doesn’t hide behind an appearance altering costume or makeup. Any of the traits found throughout her filmography are shed away; this is a new, exciting side of her.
Meanwhile, Eliza Scanlen emerges onto the scene as a young force to be reckoned with, bringing layer upon layer to her role as the mischievous Amma. A teenager who alters her persona to fit the expectations of those around her at a given moment, Scanlen is tasked with playing a variety of different versions of the same character, while still cluing viewers in to what her real personality is like. She does so with aplomb.
And finally, Patricia Clarkson gives a frighteningly complex performance as the disturbed Crellin family matriarch. In the season’s final moments, her performance is so controlled and precisely executed that she manages to terrify viewers without flying over the top. And, in the earlier episodes, she delivers some brutal jabs and hilarious one-liners with the same deadpan wit.
Sharp Objects is a deceptively simple miniseries. While it could be taken at face value as a Southern Gothic mystery, there is so much more going on in every frame, between the unorthodox song choices, quick flashes of horror and violence, or sudden bursts of humor in the midst of all the heaviness. For two years in a row, HBO (with the help of Valée) have managed to deliver stunning, complicated miniseries that became appointment viewing across demographics. This is complex, thought provoking entertainment for adults that still manages to be suspenseful, and deliver at least one memorable moment that’s perfect for water cooler conversation. If this isn’t evidence of the Golden Age of Television, I don’t know what is.
Overall rating: 10 out of 10
