A great pilot doesn't guarantee a great series just as a poor pilot doesn't guarantee a poor series. For what it's worth though, Awake delivered the most satisfying and thought-provoking pilot of the network TV season. One might read plenty of reviews in which the critic questions the viability of the premise in the long-run. Critics wondered about the series' sustainability since the Upfronts. Yes, such things are worth considering whenever a series launches. I suppose a reader deserves to know what to expect in the weeks after an exceptional pilot. The professionals will have the luxury of writing having seen 2-3 additional episodes to provide a clearer picture of what to expect. I notice a growing trend on the interweb in which fans and critics judge episodes based on what they mean for the future. Chuck Klosterman made the point on a BS Report podcast, specifically wondering why people negatively assess a series based on the amount of set-up or exposition in early episodes. Instead of looking towards the future, I'd rather just explain why Awake's first episode is worth watching, and why it's a satisfying 43 minutes of storytelling on its own.
Initially, Awake resembles Memento and Inception, two Christopher Nolan films (Memento, of course, was first a short story by Jonah Nolan). For many months, Kyle Killen's show about a man who experiences two realities after a car crash, one in which his wife's still alive, and one in which his son's still alive, drew comparisons to Inception because of the dream worlds in the respective stories. Jason Isaacs portrays Michael Britten, the man living in two realities. Laura Allen, from the great Terriers, portrays his wife. Dylan Minnette portrays Rex Britten, Michael's son. The opening scene of the episode shows the car crash and then Killen shows us life after Michael and Hannah's son passed away followed by an abrupt switch into a world in which his son's alive. The teaser is jarring; in fact, the entire first act is somewhat difficult to follow, because lines are specific and purposeful, and the audience simply doesn't know enough to make sense of the world(s). Michael, our eyes and ears, can't make sense of these realities. His first thought is, "I'm dreaming!" but his two shrinks offer different opinions--one tells him that he's definitely dreaming, that he needs to work out the pain responsible for the dreams in order to let go, whereas the other shrink wants him to think about what's really going on. And, indeed, that is the hook of the "Pilot."
I compared Awake to Memento because of the compelling final scene between Michael and his supportive psychiatrist who instructs him to dig deeper into what everything means. Memento won accolades for its backwards structure and superb narrative about a man who couldn't remember what happened to his wife. Michael doesn't remember the specifics of the accident, not his high blood-alcohol level, not how it happened, and not who he actually lost. It's the soothing shrink who helps him asks these questions, especially when the worlds begin to bleed into one another. Michael works as a police man. Each episode will follow two different cases that are somehow connected. In the "Pilot," Michael drew from one reality to solve a case in the other. The procedural element of Awake should work because the approach to the cases is different than in generic rote procedural dramas. Michael has two different partners in the two worlds. The differences in any case could be clues to the true story of the accident and the realities. The cases-of-the-week will inform the mythos rather than detract from the mythos or, in other words, the cases should actually mean something for the overarching story.
Beyond the intriguing elements of the premise, the Pilot tells an excellent story about pain, loss, and the difficulty of letting go of someone who passed away. I connected with the human element of the story more than its Mementoish qualities. Hannah and Rex are the most important people in Michael's world. Both realities are rife with pain and suffering. Hannah's a disconsolate mother. Rex is a quiet teenager who possesses a flood of emotions just waiting to burst out of a dam, who is more comfortable sobbing into the arms of his gorgeous tennis coach than his father, which tells us all we need to know about father-son issues. Michael doesn't want to figure out the truth about what happened to him as much as he simply wants to exist in these two worlds with the two most important people in his life. So, really, Awake is more of a character study then. I'd like to describe Michael as an absurd hero, someone caught in existential realities, but I must watch more episodes before going there.
David Slade's direction in the "Pilot" won't be duplicated in subsequent episodes, because pilot direction is never duplicated. The budget is different; there are more time constraints; however, Slade's mark on the series won't be lost. Both realities have a distinct color scheme which should help the viewer from feeling confusion. The post-production work is stunning. The look of the episode is outstanding. The color coding made every scene aesthetically sublime--an ugly garage looked sublime because of the color coding, and so on and so on. The tag team of Killen and Slade made the "Pilot" feel like an excellent short film.
The imagination and originality in the 43 minute episode is what I responded to most. It is especially rare in network dramas to find an episode like this one. If the rest of the series falls on its face, the "Pilot" is exceptional enough to stand apart from possible trainwreck episodes in the future. It really is a tremendous 43 minutes of storytelling, acting and direction. I hope people watch the "Pilot" at least. Don't worry about the viability of the premise until #102. If you're reading and haven't watched, I apologize for spoiling your experience.
THE YOUTUBE CLIP OF THE WEEK
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