TV Series #1: The Leftovers (2014- )

Jesus Christ, this goddamn show. Every episode, there's a moment that brings me to the verge of tears. The haunting piano theme is funeral-esque, with a non-stop sturm und drang tone and all the characters are depressed/suffering from PTSD/going insane. It'll literally put me in a bad mood after watching and yet I cannot get enough of this fantastic series.

The above is a screen capture from season one's "Guest", because it's hard to find any pictures of the characters smiling on Google Images. Yet this is the moment that always get me, the first time we really see Nora Durst smile, a character who lost her husband and two children to the Sudden Departure (a supernatural event where 140 million people vanish into thin air). The episode opens with her warped routine of buying her kid's favorite snacks, stalking the pre-school teacher who had an affair with Mr. Durst, and hiring a prostitute to shoot her in the chest while wearing Kevlar. After going down a rabbit hole at a work conference (involving an identity crisis and having her pain hugged away by a guru) she resurfaces a changed woman. As the supermarket cashier rings up yogurt and non-children food, we see her beaming face and enraptured eyes, an anthropomorphic symbol of hope in a world full of despair and existential angst.

This one caught me by surprise, a series filled with religious overtones, themes and messages. The angry nihilist atheist of my youth would call Future Me a sucker for even giving this series the time of day, before dropping the boilerplate Karl Marx quote. My parents never imposed any type of faith, raising my sister and I with Buddhist/vegetarian values, flipping a coin between Christmas or Hanukkah and the house frequently stunk of incense from my dad's meditation space. The first exposure to Christianity was when a kid in elementary school wore a cross chain and I told my mom I wanted one just because it looked bad-ass. I saw no place for it in my life, deeming it only worthy of rubes easily tricked into following an out-dated self-help book word-for-word.

But then my sister converted to Orthodox Judaism. At her wedding, the bride and groom are separated by literal dividers at the reception, until the men escort the groom through a frenetic dance to where the bride awaits. It was through that surreal tradition that I finally got the appeal of religion. So what if the stories are improbable or the customs slightly incompatible with modern life? They're doing it for the community of family and friends. As I'm approaching 30, I find that the number of people I see on a daily and weekly basis has dwindled, a consequence of freelancing and introversion. Barring major holidays or birthdays, there's no urgency to see each other in person and Facebook/Twitter/Vinetumblagram has tricked our brains into feeling socially fulfilled. By subscribing to a faith, all that logistical nonsense of planning parties or waiting for a friend to call you first falls to the wayside. Fridays at mosque, Saturdays at temple, Sundays at church, see you then, don't even have to think about it. 

All these forms of visual media are essentially a new religion, the movie theater being the closest example. We sit in the nave to learn new truths about ourselves and the world from a person or a fifty-foot screen. That's why I struggle with my love of television, as it encourages in-home viewing, being away from the community. Yet the stories on TV today are more mature and poignant, exploring themes that aren't universally desired nor easily translatable to international markets. So as the season two finale airs tonight, be the Nora Durst you want to see in the world.