JOHN FROM CINCINNATI: THE COMPLETE SERIES - DVD review

It is entirely possible I don't under "John from Cincinnati" on the level creator David Milch intends. I will fully grant that possibility. After all, if I don't "get it" after watching all ten episodes of the series and listening to two Milch commentary tracks, maybe the premise is too dense for most audiences. And the one audience which might understand the series isn't necessarily watching television. On the other hand, I will also happily entertain the notion Milch doesn't know what the series is about and, thus, can never help us wrap our arms around it. In fact, we're treated to the writer explaining a pivotal scene to the entire cast and crew on set in the Special Features. The way he deconstructs each sentence of a dream sequence-and the ensuing reactions of the people gathered around him-makes me wonder is anyone fully comprehends it.

The world of Imperial Beach, California, is populated by eccentric people. A former surf god, his volatile wife, druggie son, lecherous corporate-types, porn star mothers…and the mysterious "John." Who is this person who repeats selected lines from everyone around him? Where did he come from? Why does he insist the end is near or that young Shaun (Fletcher Greyson) is going to disappear? What is his purpose with this selected group of people all intent on created the most depressing existence for themselves?

Maybe I should ask one more question in regards to John (Austin Nichols). Who cares? In the commentary track for the series finale, Milch vaguely admits to being pissed off due to opportunities which have been taken away from him. Whether he is referring to his cancelled "Deadwood" or to the (merciful) execution of this series he never says. In some ways, he insists, "John from Cincinnati" is about finding ways to maintain the faith when it looks as though the world is coming to an end. Is this show catharsis for him since his acclaimed "Deadwood' was yanked out from underneath him? A program completely unconventional, filled with spiritual innuendo and designed to get under people's skin. It is a departure for HBO, a series they launched after the finale of "The Sopranos." Clearly it was intended to take the mob family's place. After ten episodes, it was canned.

(I will continue to make references to the commentary tracks, not because of they are the biggest and best ever produced. Rather, it is because these "talks" are the only way for the audience to figure out what happens on screen.)

A series doesn't need to lay out its plan for an ongoing arc in the first episode, yet it needs to give the audience some sense of direction sometime in the first season, preferably early on so they know what they are getting into. What would the first hour of "The Lord of the Rings" be like without critical backstory and exposition regarding Middle Earth? It might be watchable based on the anticipation of what comes after, but the film would surely loose people. The same goes here. It isn't until Milch's commentary do we fully understand the purpose of the series: to show seven people have their lives changed and therefore go forward and change the world in the next seven years (a date of September 11, 2014 is bandied about).

So, in that respect, the disjointed characters we're given here are sort of a prelude to the series proper. Without this backstory, we don't know where they get their "marching orders" from. The problem is this long range storyline is never articulated through 90% of the series. It's not until Linc (Luke Perry) takes a leap of faith in the finale and starts talking to John in "his language" do any answers really start popping up. Again, by that point, it's entirely too late. We've gone through enough angst with Cissy (Rebecca De Mornay), depression with Bill (Ed O'Neill), moments of zen with Mitch (Bruce Greenwood) and all other manner of emotions with the rest of the cast-none of which amount to a hill of beans in the season-to become invested in the conversation. It's the type of dialogue the first episode needed, instead of the finale.

Ostensibly, "John from Cincinnati" bills itself as a surfing show. And truth be told, if the story focused a little more on the surfing and a little less on the supernatural mumbo-jumbo, more people might have tuned in, thus allowing the story to continue. The series pulls a bait-and-switch with the audience, promoting itself as one thing and ending up being something else entirely. The series excels when any particular episode sticks as close as it can to the surfing. And, honestly, even when the topic revolves around the central mystery and John's seeming double speak, one thing continues to save it: the cast.

Each person on screen, according to Milch, was brought in based on an identifiable former role. He specifically cites Luke Perry from "Beverly Hills, 90210" and Mark-Paul Gosselaar ("Saved by the Bell"), yet nearly every one of the faces on screen is immediately recognizable from some other program. Bruce Greenwood has a list of film credits a mile long; Luis Guzman was the star of his own ill-fated Fox sitcom; Willie Garson's signature role was on HBO's "Sex and the City;" Matt Winston will be known to sci fi fans from his stint on "Star Trek: Enterprise;" Emily Rose has roles on both "Jericho" and "Brothers and Sisters;" O'Neill is Al Bundy; and the list goes on. They are the reason to watch every episode. While is it entirely possible this is O'Neill's best career work (a mumbling, depressed, lost retired police officer), it is impossible to take your eyes off of De Mornay. The most emotionally unhinged of the characters, Cissy comes close to being a caricature of the person she is supposed to be. Loud, obnoxious, overbearing, full of hate…not to mention a revelation made near the end of the series which undoubtedly impacted her relationship with son Butchie…she rings true despite being nearly cartoonish.

Played like any good serialized program, "John from Cincinnati" includes sub plots on top of sub plots featuring minor characters, revelations and ideas which seem to be inspired by real life. It's an idea Milch brings up in his two commentaries: the series showcases the important moments in their lives without regard to how they fit into the bigger jigsaw puzzle. Does it really matter Mega Millions winner Barry Cunningham (Winston) was pounded upside the head by Butchie at some point in their pasts (with a broom handle) and someone ejaculated on his face? What is it is with drug runners Freddie and Palaka, not to mention Michael Smith, a doctor who treats Shaun? These people-and many more-hang around a decrepit motel for no apparent reason, other than it "draws" them there. The one constant which links them all? You guessed it: John.

If there ever was a series that needed more time to strengthen its plot and deserved a second chance, especially on a forgiving home like HBO, it's probably this one. Never totally offensive, even when every character appears eccentric just for the sake of being eccentric, the series isn't allowed a moment to wrap its story. Even in the waning moments of the final episode, there's never a sense it was written to either provide closure for the season or the series proper. As Milch states, a voiceover in the penultimate scene tells the plot points we would have seen in a second season, if it had been given the green light. None seem as interesting or engrossing as what we already have, an arc about a family coming together after being ripped apart (and something I've left out of this entire review). Milch wanted a program with a "fragmented sensibility." He got it.

VIDEO:
I'll admit I'm of two minds when it comes to the video presentation. Either the grain inherent in every scene is supposed to be there or someone fell asleep at the wheel while mastering the series. I think, based on the run down look to the program, I'll side with the former over the latter. The grain isn't a major problem, mostly relegated to outdoor scenes and only if you look very hard. Nothing on the screen pops like it should, though that is entirely understandable based on the daily struggle we see in every episode. One effect I did want to mention was the way light is portrayed in the series.

In nearly every indoor shot, light streaming into windows or coming from other natural sources is given a ethereal quality instead of a more cinematic one as we'd come to expect. Windows seem to glow and the light "smears" around the frame, as if giving the audience a hint of the true premise. And when it streams in, the video quality is such that the fine particles in the air are visible within the scene. Anamorphic and in its original aspect ratio of 1.78:1, I have no qualms about what we see on screen.

AUDIO:
Three different audio mixes to pick from here: English 5.1 and French and Spanish 2.0. The only time the English version is given a work out happens to be in the surfing scenes, allowing for crisp and encompassing surround sound of waves crashing. Nothing else in the series truly gives the speakers a workout. And that's as it should be, quite honestly. "John from Cincinnati" isn't about flash or explosions, loudness or attention grabbing ploys. It does it's business, more or less, without calling attention to itself. Standard English, French and Spanish subtitles are included.

EXTRAS:
I've already alluded to all the extras on the set, but in case you weren't paying attention, David Milch provides commentary on both the first and last episodes of the series. With as much as he probably has to say about the program, he actually says very little. Most of his comments revolve around new age-type concepts such as conversations we have in life being reenacted in different forms over a span of twenty years and we have no connection to objects unless it contains a memory for us. There's always a sense he has more to say than he lets on, which is a shame. With his "Deadwood" famous for its cursing and this series not shying away from the same type of language, I wonder if his bile toward HBO for pulling two shows out from under him would approach that of Cissy when she learns Tina is back in Imperial Beach.

The only other extra we have here is the 13 ½ minute "featurette" explaining the dream sequence involving all the main characters in episode 6. The cast seems as confused by what Milch is saying as the audience should be. He reads line by line from the script at the motel set, telling everyone gathered around what the words mean. Milch isn't the best public speaker, as the dialogue runs into the explanation numerous times. Really, we're lost a minute into the feature and never catch up.

The series is presented on three discs, with the featurette being housed on the second disc.

PARTING THOUGHTS:
Prior to jumping into "John from Cincinnati," I was bound and determined to find something redeeming in the series, an aspect to the production everyone else had missed, anything which would put this in my personal brilliant but canceled shelf alongside "Sports Night" and "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip." After a single episode, I knew I wasn't going to get it. After a week of living with the Yost's and the people on Imperial Beach, I can't wait to put the experience behind me. Not only are they a depressing group with no light in their lives, the situation we find ourselves in with them is straight out of a drug induced haze. Rarely making sense-or speaking a language people can understand-it's too mystical and spiritual for the mainstream, dark for a pop audience and not nearly sporty enough for the ESPN crowd. It's a show in search of an identity. One it doesn't find until the end of the series, by which time it's far too late.