part 1
part 2
part 3
And this line could easily be used as a prologue to my love letter to Andy Sipowicz. Most actors' performances come across as absurd to me, and I don't know if this is because I'm overly critical, underly emotional, or if I suffer from some sort of genetic predisposition that prevents me from adequately suspending disbelief.
The point is that Dennis Franz's portrayal of Detective Sipowicz has always been an exception to this rule, and this past week I've been watching the first two seasons of NYPD Blue for the first time since I caught them in reruns back in the mid-2000s. At that time I had a Roku, a generous paycheck, and a plate of misery heaped so high that I could hardly tell the pirogies from the dog turd dumplings.
In the midst of this confusion was Andy, a damaged detective struggling to find redemption. He, of course, was his own worst enemy in this regard, but it was something else beyond the cliché that garnered my attention. Most characters cast into the role of anti- or redeemed hero suffer from a lack of consistency. Their actions are marked by wild fluctuations between the heroic and depraved, and from these extremes the viewer is supposed to surmise that the character portrayed is therefore troubled or nuanced or psychologically complex.
But Andy Sipowicz did not conform to this mold, opting instead for the middle. His indiscretions, albeit multifarious, were never as extreme as those of his colleagues, and the darkest corners of his past (such as his penchant for domestic violence) were safely cordoned off by the black hole of the show's pre-history. All television programs have this device at their disposal, but NYPD Blue was incredibly effective at using it to insinuate Sipowicz's past without making it explicit. The viewer is then left to fill in the blanks on his or her own, providing just enough turpitude to set the story arc of Andy's morality into motion.
As a result, Sipowicz doesn't have to be overly heroic either, which makes it all the more believable that his attempts to do good represent real spiritual progress. Since the viewer is unable to know how far he had fallen, it is likewise impossible to know if he is ever full redeemed. His acts of kindness therefore reside in a limbo of sorts – admirable in the context of given episodes, but still suspect when taken in the context of the larger diegesis.
The point of this exercise (assuming their is one) is that I've been re-watching NYPD Blue this week because I've felt stuck. Not lost, but stuck, and sometimes the only way to get unstuck is to wade through the muck, trudge onward not in a posture of resistance but in that of surrender.
If Robert Smith were here, he would know what I'm talking about...
part 3
There's a line in an Eleanor Friedberger that begins, "You and me could go on and on and on..."
And this line could easily be used as a prologue to my love letter to Andy Sipowicz. Most actors' performances come across as absurd to me, and I don't know if this is because I'm overly critical, underly emotional, or if I suffer from some sort of genetic predisposition that prevents me from adequately suspending disbelief.
But this is beside the point.
The point is that Dennis Franz's portrayal of Detective Sipowicz has always been an exception to this rule, and this past week I've been watching the first two seasons of NYPD Blue for the first time since I caught them in reruns back in the mid-2000s. At that time I had a Roku, a generous paycheck, and a plate of misery heaped so high that I could hardly tell the pirogies from the dog turd dumplings.
(Sounds like something Sipowicz might say, no?)
In the midst of this confusion was Andy, a damaged detective struggling to find redemption. He, of course, was his own worst enemy in this regard, but it was something else beyond the cliché that garnered my attention. Most characters cast into the role of anti- or redeemed hero suffer from a lack of consistency. Their actions are marked by wild fluctuations between the heroic and depraved, and from these extremes the viewer is supposed to surmise that the character portrayed is therefore troubled or nuanced or psychologically complex.
But Andy Sipowicz did not conform to this mold, opting instead for the middle. His indiscretions, albeit multifarious, were never as extreme as those of his colleagues, and the darkest corners of his past (such as his penchant for domestic violence) were safely cordoned off by the black hole of the show's pre-history. All television programs have this device at their disposal, but NYPD Blue was incredibly effective at using it to insinuate Sipowicz's past without making it explicit. The viewer is then left to fill in the blanks on his or her own, providing just enough turpitude to set the story arc of Andy's morality into motion.
As a result, Sipowicz doesn't have to be overly heroic either, which makes it all the more believable that his attempts to do good represent real spiritual progress. Since the viewer is unable to know how far he had fallen, it is likewise impossible to know if he is ever full redeemed. His acts of kindness therefore reside in a limbo of sorts – admirable in the context of given episodes, but still suspect when taken in the context of the larger diegesis.
part 4
part 5
The point of this exercise (assuming their is one) is that I've been re-watching NYPD Blue this week because I've felt stuck. Not lost, but stuck, and sometimes the only way to get unstuck is to wade through the muck, trudge onward not in a posture of resistance but in that of surrender.
If Robert Smith were here, he would know what I'm talking about...
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