I kept trying and failing to write something about the second season finale of “Justified,” which aired Wednesday – failing, because there are professionals who parse this show with benefit of screeners, and what am I going to add to their observations? Also, I wrote about my general thoughts on “Justified” a few weeks back, and the finale didn’t really change anything in what I thought.
In its second season, “Justified” matured from an above-average cop procedural to an epic-feeling dive into a culture Hollywood rarely handles with any accuracy. A big part of the reason why is the introduction of the Bennett clan, whose crime empire and decades-long feud with the family of Our Hero Raylan enriched the show’s backstory and set up plotlines that could unspool over several seasons (God willing).
I adore this show and its writing and acting so much that it felt almost disloyal to think about the few things about it that bothered me, and that didn’t improve in season two. It boils down to one big thing, I guess – and no, not Raylan’s magic ability to drive from Lexington to Harlan in the space of one commercial break. That’s just TV. And, besides, he’s a federal employee, so I’m sure he gets reimbursed for mileage.
I have a serious issue with the female characters on “Justified.”
Not all of them, though. I have to give major credit to the show’s runners for making Mags Bennett “Mags,” and not “Milton” or “Junior” or “Billy Ray.” She’s simply one of the most memorable and frightening characters – not female characters, characters period – in recent TV memory. Weeks later, she’s still got my own mother looking reasons to say “You sit your bony ass down and listen to my counter while thay’s still pieces of you big enough to fiiiiii-iiind.” Please cast Margo Martindale in everything from now on. Likewise, the young Loretta McCready (Kaitlyn Dever) was wonderful, to the point where she reminded me of every slightly sketch girl I knew in high school.
I could complain about Aunt Helen, who officially joined the Women in Refrigerators ranks a few episodes back, or Erica Tazel’s U.S. Marshall Rachel Brooks, who’s on pace to get about five lines of dialogue per season. But these characters’ fates are due less to their female-ness and more to where they fit in the story. Certainly there are male characters who are in the same boat.
But we have to talk about the Raylan Jinx.
I’m not talking about the increased likelihood that a woman dating an envelope-pushing federal officer will be exposed to potentially life-threatening danger. I’m talking about the demonstrated effect that getting involved with Raylan Givens has on how writers seem to view a character. Namely, dating Raylan is the No. 1 cause of death-of-anything-interesting-about-you.
Is it an accident that Ava became infinitely more compelling after she and Raylan split, or that Winona became frustratingly uninteresting this season after she and Raylan got back together? Ava went from uneasy truce with her late husband’s bother (late, by the way, because she shot him) to a relationship that has potential for some real Lady Macbeth-style badassery, while Winona was reduced to finding different ways to get into trouble so Raylan could rescue her.
It wouldn’t bother me that Raylan apparently gets more attracted to women when they’re vulnerable and in need of a knight in shining armor – as long as someone acknowledged it in some way. Otherwise, it looks less like a character choice and more like lack of imagination on the part of the show’s writers.
I mean, Raylan’s awesome, and he’s got depth, and he’s a decent person, and he looks like Timothy Olyphant, so I can understand a girl getting weak in the knees. But surely these women still have jobs, and families, and things in their lives that don’t revolve around some dude.
“Justified,” I only criticize because I love.
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