john from cincinnati
John From Cincinnati: Beached, Bloated and Bird Food
Aug 14th
Those vacant looks say it all. In the 10 mind-boggling weeks since The Sopranos left us hanging, John From Cincinnati did what it could to rebuild Sunday nights. And though it will surely go down as one of the more inventive attempts at serialized storytelling, there won’t be much to reference. Last night HBO confirmed what we already knew: JFC will not be getting a second season.
What few fans remain will now have to stalk creator David Milch if they want to know what the hell it all meant – assuming he even knows himself. He did offer a few tidbits on Sunday’s series finale (as did episode writer Zach ‘Joss’s bro’ Whedon) to Variety‘s Cynthia Littleton. You can read them here and here. Personally, I feel like I’ve been let off the hook. I watched John for watching’s sake, but my attention waned as soon as the opening credits ended – which, if you never caught them, were pretty effing awesome.
John From Cincinnati – “Now We’re Boning”
Jun 26th
Everyone really needs to chill the hell out over John From Cincinnati. Stories are told in different ways, and just because this one is taking a more original approach doesn’t mean it should be shunned like it has been by most of the media.
As for the source of all the shunning, the vague arc of John is actually starting to take shape. The supernatural undertones are becoming overtones (or is it just tones?), with “resurrection by parrot” and “spontaneous near-combustion” joining levitation on the roster of weird and unexplained. Thanks to the less than creatively titled episodes, we also know it’s only been two days in Imperial Beach since John arrived – leading one to conclude that the ten episode season is going to play out over the period of just one week. Unfortunately, most America viewers thrive on the pace of 24, and a week is probably too long to hold their interest. For that reason alone, I’m inclined to worry that John From Cincinnati will follow in the footsteps of Carnivale: awesome, underrated and ultimately unwatched.
HBO is not failing to live up to its long tradition of TV’s strongest character studies. And while I’m fully onboard with the Yosts, their friends and the antagonistic duo of Luke Perry and Emily Rose, those three dudes at the motel aren’t going to find a fan in me anytime soon. In a cast that seems to be growing every week, the less time devoted to peripheral folks, the better. Also… mysterious hotel rooms are seriously played out.
What remain to be inarguably amazing about John From Cincinnati are the opening credits. There might be no more sublime way to cap off a weekend than with shots of longboard surfers of yore set to a simultaneously tranquil and rowdy Joe Strummer. It’s becoming my favorite minute and a half of the TV week, and the 58.5 that follow are pretty damn good too if you’re willing to check your unfairly high expectations at the door.
Delayed Reaction: John From Cincinnati
Jun 13th
I don’t ever recall wanting to like a show as much as John From Cincinnati. With my favorites dropping like flies and my other must see TV generally lacking depth, John seemed like he could be more than just a nice, scripted respite from my reality-soaked summer – he could be my new reason to evangelize the glories of the idiot box. I could be his champion!
But as it turns out, John From Cincinnati is just as weird as everyone has been saying. The show chronicles the Yost family, a resentful foursome who haven’t caught enough breaks. They live in a Southern California surfing community with a host of other equally bizarre characters and a newly arrived stranger, John. I realize that it’s a lot to ask of show to have a plot clearly laid out in the pilot, but having at least enough lucid characters to have a few understandable conversations is not. John From Cincinnati is a parade of undiagnosed schizophrenics, autistics and a charmingly taciturn Luke Perry. John himself is a cross between ET and Leonardo DiCaprio, circa What’s Eating Gilbert Grape? – his few words mostly the result of a bizarre, never-ending game of copycat. The sanest character, Mitch Yost, is oddly enough the one you’ve seen sporadically hovering above the ground in promos and posters.
The only clear message is that John is some sort of naive second coming of Christ or other messenger from above (Think Michael without the dancing and obesity), but so far the most supernatural acts have been the responsibility of either a teenage boy or Al Bundy’s parrot. So John might just be a red herring.
Coherent or not, the show is worth watching for the beautifully choreographed surfing alone. And while it may not have been the earth-changing experience that I was hoping it might be, I am not giving up on John. I’ll continue to watch, because I still want to love him. And if television has taught me anything, it’s that faith (and fandom) is easy to will with dedication like mine.