Humans used to have existential moments when they would stop polishing their spittoons or pedaling their penny-farthings and be suddenly struck with the knowledge that they are essentially and irretrievably alone in the universe, and that the universe itself is truly unknowable, and so is the reason for our very existence, and ... whoa.
Now, people get caught up in different Big Questions: "Are our brains just giant computers, and has an unseen force slowly made us create systems outside of ourselves that duplicate what we do organically but, being digital, can never be killed and will eventually surpass homo sapiens and take over the world?"
I still get whoa moments about existence, but mostly I marvel at how my computer has indeed become an extension of myself and of my secrets. Hack into my email and you will come across some morally suspect deeds; look at my browser history and you'll marvel at my obsessions with Nazis and midcentury furniture. Read my texts, see my job performance reviews, catalog my surreptitious love affairs. It's not just me, either. Big stars can't even help themselves from broadcasting stupid tweets (even if only for 30 seconds, before their conscience steps in and deletes them). Imagine what the stars don't show us.
That's why the new It-show Mr. Robot fascinates me. Its main character, Elliot Alderson (played by Rami Malek), is a master hacker, an occupation that gives him the ability to take people down. He can "read the minds" of his friends, his associates, and even his therapist by gaining access to their online lives. I'd be happy enough with a well-written show based on this premise, but Mr. Robot also has a huge array of backstories with layers of perception and meaning.
It's computer geeks versus Big Business Evil Empires, it's secret societies, and it's villains and damsels. Mr. Robot himself is Christian Slater, who I always associate with all things mediocre, but he might finally have found a good landing place for his Jack Nicholson impersonation. He drags Elliot into his scheme to take down a giant, nefarious corporation. We aren't really sure Mr. Robot even exists, or that anything in Elliot's world really exists, because he's a bit nuts and also has a morphine habit. I'm sure there are also lots of subplots and themes that hinge on various forms of computational dorkiness, too. There's a reason that this show rates 97 percent on Rotten Tomatoes: It sustains the cerebral TV thriller types who can't wait to take their computers and share their opinions with the world. Does Joe Sixpack care? Prolly not.
Elliot's existentialism centers around his loneliness and internal world. He has difficulty connecting with people, but thank God the writers haven't given him the trait that's now ubiquitous among obsessive-compulsives: sociopathy, Asperger's, or whatever trendy "on-the-spectrum" disorder that drives a plot these days. He's just sort of a mess; flip to any page in the DSM-IV and point.
Here's why I'm most excited, though. I think we may finally be reaching a point where antiheroes are just hero-heroes. Elliot is a cyber Robin Hood, and Robin Hood was just a good guy. Sure, he stole, but for a good cause. Tony Soprano, Dexter, and Heisenberg were all strong antiheroes, which was fantastic, but it's time to move on from television's reliance on fatal flaws. The only way to go from here, if I may be counterintuitive for a moment, is a return to all-bad or all-good. We aren't quite ready for either, so a good guy with a drug habit works fine as a bridge. The USA Network has done so by creating a show that is edgy enough to be compelling but which centers on a contemporary superhero with special mind-reading powers. Yes, he has a ton of problems and imperfections, but I haven't found myself wrestling with whether or not to like him. I just do.
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