It has to be admitted. Just a few scenes with Ron Eldard in Blind Justice are enough for a double take. This is very unconventional acting for television. Subtle isn't really the word, rather, it's so raw and intense that we feel we are right there in the room with him. So why, then, isn't this new show a hit? Much has already been made of the blind cop premise, and why it isn't convincing. So let me try to offer another angle. I'm interested in Eldard's character, recently blinded Jim Dunbar, and what that character communicates.
To warm you up to my worry, here's an anecdote. I watched the second episode with a friend. During the course of the dinner scene, Dunbar knocks a wine glass into his wife's lap because he thinks she's flirting with the man next to her. Totally embarrassing! Then, minutes later, there's a scene with Dunbar and his psychologist. Dunbar tries to make light of his interview by wrongly imagining and imitating the inquisitive gestures of his interlocutor. The intent? A joke gone bad. Well, watching the scene, my friend literally winced. She suddenly took a great interest in the sofa pillow, and then left before finishing the show. One can see why: it made one feel utterly trapped and exposed. At this point my friend no longer watches the show.
Now, I imagine it was precisely Bochco's intent to produce such feelings in us, and this ability is also his strength. Bochco's characters have real depth and that's what makes them come alive. What's more, Eldard really pulls it off for him.
But: in this instance, Bochco created, and Eldard delivered, precisely the kind of emotion we want to run away from. We all know the Fight or Flight response. Fight being impossible (unless we attack the TV set), flight is the next best option. You flip the channel. Just ask yourselves, why are there so many people that avoid the disabled? One possibility is that they don't like to see what they perceive as failure. Most people are much too afraid to fail themselves.
It is strange, and I suppose there's no middle road when one gets slammed this hard with just the emotions one tries to avoid: one either loves the honesty and daringness of the display, or one hates it. In the end, however, this is TV, not real life. And real life is something we get all day. So, perhaps a little more sentimentality would improve the ratings. Sad but true, maybe the emotion needs to be toned down. Of course, there's a danger of overplaying that as well. We don't want the angry Dunbar that Eldard plays so well to turn into Dunbar the sap.
What I'd hope to see, at least for the sake of getting the show renewed, is a slightly less pushy approach. Dunbar should feel angry and helpless, but he has to have himself sufficiently together to convince us that he's a good cop. And: he must learn to grieve his loss. After all, he only lost his vision a year ago. I heard somewhere that the worst part of being newly blind is waking up, perhaps from a vivid dream, in total darkness. But Dunbar, oddly, takes his loss of vision in stride. He's just angry that he can't do what he could do before, and I don't buy that. If I lost my vision, I would, for a while at least, feel that I was suffocating, all the more so because there's one thing those of us who see cherish deeply, and would be terrified to lose: to no longer be able to behold beauty!
To warm you up to my worry, here's an anecdote. I watched the second episode with a friend. During the course of the dinner scene, Dunbar knocks a wine glass into his wife's lap because he thinks she's flirting with the man next to her. Totally embarrassing! Then, minutes later, there's a scene with Dunbar and his psychologist. Dunbar tries to make light of his interview by wrongly imagining and imitating the inquisitive gestures of his interlocutor. The intent? A joke gone bad. Well, watching the scene, my friend literally winced. She suddenly took a great interest in the sofa pillow, and then left before finishing the show. One can see why: it made one feel utterly trapped and exposed. At this point my friend no longer watches the show.
Now, I imagine it was precisely Bochco's intent to produce such feelings in us, and this ability is also his strength. Bochco's characters have real depth and that's what makes them come alive. What's more, Eldard really pulls it off for him.
But: in this instance, Bochco created, and Eldard delivered, precisely the kind of emotion we want to run away from. We all know the Fight or Flight response. Fight being impossible (unless we attack the TV set), flight is the next best option. You flip the channel. Just ask yourselves, why are there so many people that avoid the disabled? One possibility is that they don't like to see what they perceive as failure. Most people are much too afraid to fail themselves.
It is strange, and I suppose there's no middle road when one gets slammed this hard with just the emotions one tries to avoid: one either loves the honesty and daringness of the display, or one hates it. In the end, however, this is TV, not real life. And real life is something we get all day. So, perhaps a little more sentimentality would improve the ratings. Sad but true, maybe the emotion needs to be toned down. Of course, there's a danger of overplaying that as well. We don't want the angry Dunbar that Eldard plays so well to turn into Dunbar the sap.
What I'd hope to see, at least for the sake of getting the show renewed, is a slightly less pushy approach. Dunbar should feel angry and helpless, but he has to have himself sufficiently together to convince us that he's a good cop. And: he must learn to grieve his loss. After all, he only lost his vision a year ago. I heard somewhere that the worst part of being newly blind is waking up, perhaps from a vivid dream, in total darkness. But Dunbar, oddly, takes his loss of vision in stride. He's just angry that he can't do what he could do before, and I don't buy that. If I lost my vision, I would, for a while at least, feel that I was suffocating, all the more so because there's one thing those of us who see cherish deeply, and would be terrified to lose: to no longer be able to behold beauty!