On the American
narratives behind Season 1’s two most striking arcs.
Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright are the two
big names attached to House of Cards
(and are playing two very juicy characters to be sure, on whom more later this
week), but for my money Season 1’s two best performances belonged to Corey Stoll (playing
junior congressman, gubernatorial candidate, and tragically doomed alcoholic
Peter Russo) and Kate Mara
(playing junior reporter, blog sensation, and sometime Spacey mistress Zoe
Barnes). Or more exactly, Russo and Barnes had by far the most significant and
compelling character arcs across the season, not only in terms of the changes
and yet continuities from their starting to their end points, but also because
of how much those arcs echo and engage with longstanding and evolving American
narratives.
Peter Russo
represents an interesting combination of—but also contrast between—two sets of
national narratives. On the one hand, he’s an iconic self-made
man, a son of impoverished South Philadelphia who has risen from among his
shipyard-working brethren to become a Congressman and then fast-tracked candidate
for Pennsylvania Governor. In the episode when we follow Peter back home, the
show goes out of its way to emphasize just how desperate those origin points
were, and how far Peter seems to have come. It’s difficult, however, to
separate those origin points from the tragic flaws that doom Russo—his addictions
to drugs, prostitutes, and, most prominently, alcohol. But obviously anyone
from any background can be defined and destroyed by such addictions, and to my
mind this side of Peter is more influenced by American narratives of naturalism
and Social
Darwinism, of whether we are each defined by some core, inborn strength or
weakness that shapes and limits our identities and lives (Spacey’s character
says as much of Russo’s flaws). If that’s the case, nature tragically triumphs
over self-making in Russo’s case.
Zoe Barnes seems
equally defined by a particular dominant character trait, one at the other end
of the Social Darwinist spectrum from Russo’s weakness: naked ambition, a
willingness to do whatever it takes to get ahead. This ambition pairs her with
Spacey’s character even before the two begin their affair, and links her to a
narrative often closely connected to that of the self-made man: the
robber baron, and the associated win
at any and all costs mentality that seems to define many American icons. But
of course, when a young woman pursue such ambitious victories, she is often
categorized more negatively as a social climber, as sleeping her way to the top
(which, in a way, Zoe does—and which her older reporter colleague Janine later
admits to having done herself) and the like. It would be interesting to
consider whether this gender dichotomy contributes to Zoe’s eventual split from
Spacey’s character, and whether it likewise distinguishes Zoe from Spacey’s
wife, Wright’s less feminine ambitious woman (a topic on which my Guest Poster
will have more to say). In any case, Zoe’s arc, while complex and still evolving,
is far less tragic and more in-control than Peter’s.
Next House
analyses tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What do you
think?
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