Amazon has become an unnecessary evil in my life. By this, I mean that I feel guilty every time I buy something from it, or use my Firestick to get things on my TV. Everything the company offers, I could get somewhere else (though I usually don't). I'm sure Noam Chomsky has something to say about whatever plaque of cognitive dissonance has built up in my cerebrum — put there, of course, by democracy's radical enemy, capitalism.
So like I was saying, there I was in my overstuffed couch, sitting on my fat ass eating Flamin' Hot Cheetos and scrolling through everything on Amazon Prime that I can get through my Firestick. A contraption that attaches to one of the HDMI ports in the back of your television set, Firestick gives you access to anything that Amazon streams — as well as to Netflix and a bunch of other things that I don't understand, like game portals and the like. If you know what you're doing, you can load a ton of stuff on Firestick so that you can stream whatever you want. This was forward-thinking on Amazon's part — same goes for Apple TV — because once you hook yourself up to these things, you'll never want to sit through a commercial on regular cable ever again. I got AT&T's U-verse a few months back and have yet to watch anything on it, primarily because of the ads, but also because it totally sucks.
As easy as the Firestick is, I'm still stuck with Amazon's brand of entertainment. For a fee, you can buy entire seasons of, say, Orphan Black or Justified, but if you want to watch anything free of charge, your options are limited. Then there are the Little Seasons That Could, those Amazon original series that Amazon so desperately wants to catch on. They got their wish with Transparent, which was a nice surprise, but beyond that, Jeff Bezos' in-house dream factory has not been able to create shows compelling enough to make anyone want to dish out cash for a second or third episode. (Amazon's method is to give you the first one for free, to get you hooked.)
Until now. Amazon has made an original series that I would gladly pay for in advance, The Man in the High Castle. Debuting in January, the pilot was a rollicking success, such that Amazon ordered a full season. It's due out "this fall" — which, in TV lingo, means any day now. And I'm about to get hella TV-geeky on this thing, so man your thrusters.
It's based on a story by Philip K. Dick, the mad genius who gave us A Scanner Darkly and Blade Runner — or, if you want to be exact, the novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? that was loosely adapted into Blade Runner. The Man in the High Castle is a dystopian imagining of the United States if the Axis Powers had won World War II. The Japanese Empire dominates the West Coast while the Nazis, having dropped an atomic bomb on D.C., control the East Coast.
Atmospheric cinematography guru and Blade Runner director Ridley Scott's involvement in High Castle is readily apparent in how the series is shot. Set in 1962 San Francisco, the series' attention to detail is fastidious. Steam comes up from manholes and entire city blocks are masses of billboards in Kanji and moving pictures (although why the overlords never took revenge for Japanese-American internment camps is never explained). Both sides of the country are dictatorships run by sadists in smart suits, although Hitler's on his last legs, allegedly due to his debilitating Parkinson's disease — something he did suffer from. (The Nazi nerd in me just loves that touch.) The middle of the country is the neutral zone, where undesirables have been sent. In the pilot, much of this scene was shot in the same town where Northern Exposure, another of my favorite shows, was filmed. (I told you I was going to get geeky.)
The main character is a young woman named Juliana who gets ahold of newsreel footage that shows our country celebrating winning the war (cleverly cobbled together by the production team from actual footage). This film was reportedly created by the titular Man in the High Castle — sort of an Anonymous of the resistance, I guess. That's one mystery that the pilot leaves you with: Are the films real and Juliana's universe false? Hmm. Expertly played by Alexa Davalos (best-known for Mob City, but forever Gwen from Angel in my heart), Juliana is on the run and out for answers, with both the Nazis and the Japs — sorry, but that's what they call them on the show! — hot on her stilettos.
I'm trying not to get my hopes up too high because lord knows how many shows — Gotham, Wayward Pines — start out very strong only to fizzle under the weight of high concepts and rambling plots. But if TMITHC sticks to its bazookas, it could very well redeem the Firestick. So far, it's on the Reich track. (Hey-o!)
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