John McWhorter, in a recent piece for The New Republic, gave us his take on the newest effort from The Wire creator David Simon: Treme. For those of you on media blackout, Treme is a series chronicling post-Katrina life in New Orleans. (The word “Treme” is the local nickname for New Orleans’ 6th Ward, through which a number of the storylines in the series pass.)
Treme, shot with verve and style and featuring an impressive selection of local music, is brought to life by a sparkling script, a light but sure directing touch, and a cast which includes David Simon veterans such as Melissa Leo (Homicide: Life On The Street), Wendell Pierce and Clarke Peters (The Wire) as well as non-professional actors (Kermit Ruffins and the Rebirth Brass Band are a fixture; Dr. John and Elvis Costello cameo as themselves; and musician Antoine Batiste’s wife is played by New Orleans resident and Katrina survivor Phyllis Montana LeBlanc).
Some critics have argued -- rather oddly, in my opinion -- that Treme is overly earnest (one assumes they’d rather it were half-hearted and insincere); others complain that it never approaches the byzantine narrative and moral complexity of its predecessor series. That’s true enough so far, if also somewhat unfair. A day/week/month-in-the-life-of type of story will never approach the angularity and darkness of a well-executed crime drama; on the other hand, why should we expect it to?
More to the point, if we are entertained by a narrative (and Treme is nothing if not entertaining) -- and if that narrative has the additional virtue of neither demeaning nor glorifying its characters, nor insulting the intelligence of its viewers, then might we not just judge the thing on its merits and leave it at that? Might we not dispense with navel-gazing introspection into its supposed subtexts?
Apparently not, according to John McWhorter. To him, Treme:
is mesmerizing in its ways (I intend to keep watching) but leaves you beaten over the head every week about just how vibrantly real New Orleans is. Realer than where you live. Realer, really, than you.
which is, when you get down to it, quite a strange criticism. More on that bit of snark later, however, because John’s not finished. His takeaway from watching Treme is that
New Orleans is an occult matter that you can never truly “get” unless you’re a native or pretty close to it. The perky, hopelessly “white” tourists from Wisconsin with their nasal voices, the ones who get schooled by the street musician, can be taken as stand-ins for the viewer. Which makes the whole enterprise strangely unwelcoming.
Here’s the thing: Maybe he feels unwelcome because he’s watching some series that has nothing to do with what “Treme” actually is.
What's putting McWhorter off to the extent that he feels he's been made "unwelcome" by a series which, literally from the first frame, invites the viewer into the world it's depicting?
Avoiding idle speculation and judging by what he himself has written elsewhere, the most likely explanation is that what’s eating McWhorter here is The Authenticity Thing. That is to say, he’s sensitive to being lectured about what is or is not authentically X, where X equals some cultural or racial signifier or category.
Fair enough. No one likes being talked down to, and a lot of culturally toxic things are said and done -- and toxic artifacts produced -- in the name of an authenticity which is usually bogus anyway. This is especially apparent in Black American culture, and McWhorter has written eloquently on that very subject. (You can see it gets his back up, and I don’t blame him. As a lifelong black person, if I hear one more borderline nihilist wearing a black skin say some bullshit about “keeping it real”, I’m going to strangle somebody.)
In this context it would make sense for him to be bothered by the scene in Treme where
The surly street musician (who is just visiting himself, from Amsterdam) tartly informs tourists that it’s tacky to request “When the Saints Go Marching In”—that tune isn’t “real New Orleans,” apparently.
It would make sense when McWhorter writes (somewhat bitchily):
And if you live in the neighborhood the show is named after, Treme, the last thing you have any right to do is ask for quiet even in the wee hours, because, as Steve Zahn’s Davis McAlary character says, “This is the Treme, dude!” and the noise is what makes it real.
It would make sense, that is, if we were watching a series other than Treme.
In the screenplay in question, however, Simon and his writers take pains to repeatedly (if not always subtly) turn the myth of authenticity on its head! Every time you turn around in Treme, the series is holding up something or someone that is ostensibly “real” (or speaking on behalf of authenticity) and pulling the veil off to show us that it’s not what we think it is -- and that by extension, the entire question of authenticity is moot.
What the hell television show has John McWhorter been watching, anyway?
Take the above Davis McAlary scene, for example. In it, he has just left his house -- stereo blaring at full volume, speakers pointed out the window at his hapless neighbors -- and has been accosted by one of said neighbors, whom Davis (without a hint of self-reflection) accuses of being a “gentrifier”. His neighbor turns out to be not only from New Orleans, but somewhat knowledgeable about the Treme’s musical history. Davis, who actually comes from a wealthy family, comes across in this and a few other scenes not as some saintly arbiter of authenticity, but as an entitled jerkwad with an inflated sense of his own hipness and charm. That cultural smugness buys him a well-deserved asswhipping in the most recent episode.
Or what about the “surly street musician” from Amsterdam who takes such issue with the “perky, hopelessly white” tourists for asking to hear “Saints”? His musical partner, the ethnically ambiguous violinist Annie, answers them courteously and tries to stem his tirade. She is shown, as the series progresses, to be a much more competent musician than he is, and in greater demand too -- especially, and ironically, with musicians playing “authentic” New Orleans music. Those musicians, interestingly enough, don’t do their thing with a lot of self-regard or moralizing of the type that McWhorter seems to see lurking behind every magnolia tree. They just get about their business (with our friend from Amsterdam sulking in the background in at least one scene). So much for Treme lecturing its audience about what’s “real”.
John McWhorter also seems to take almost everything personally when he watches Treme. He gets upset when John Goodman’s character, who is comically out of touch (he’s just discovered YouTube) and comically over-the-top in his passion for his beloved New Orleans,
savagely disses San Francisco as an “overpriced cesspool with hills” when, let’s face it, that’s a pretty “cultural” city too, and has suffered its share of natural disasters.
To which I have to say: Relax, brother! San Francisco is a big girl and can take care of herself. So can Portland, Oregon, even if
Another character says people there clap on beats one and three. Really? I’m sure more than a few thoroughly cosmopolitan, Obama-voting white people in Portland, as proud of their “reality” and their bond with black culture and its music as New Orleans folk are, would take umbrage at that.
Jesus! And here I thought the scriptwriters were just having some fun at another city’s expense. Turns out they’re Insulting White People -- many of whom probably voted post-racially!
It seems like McWhorter is not just taking this stuff personally, but taking it personally on behalf of someone else. Which, let’s face it, is kind of odd, especially from someone who helped popularize the word “victimology”. You might come to the conclusion that anyone who can’t stand to hear someone good-naturedly abusing a city -- on a fictional tv show, for chrissakes -- is a bit of a humorless tightass. You might well think that; I couldn’t possibly comment.*
Treme has its flaws, of course. John McWhorter may have something interesting to say about what those flaws are. Eventually.
With that in mind I’d like to offer him some friendly advice: Watch it again, John, preferably after a stiff drink -- only this time, try to pay attention.
And please, get over yourself.
*Bonus points for any reader who knows what TV series I'm quoting here.
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