Saturday, July 27, 2024

Welcome to Wrexham

My wife and I have been watching Welcome to Wrexham over the past few weeks, and last night we arrived at the end of season two, which made great use of television’s unique formal features, particularly the length of time spent with a series’ characters and milieu. Wrexham, of course, is a documentary about Hollywood stars Rob McElhenney and Ryan Reynolds’ purchase of the Wrexham Red Dragons, a somewhat hard-luck soccer team in North Wales, and their attempts to improve the team and restore it to its former glory. Wrexham had once been a part of the Championship League (the division just below the Premiere League, where all of England’s top teams play), but after 40 years of trials and tribulations, Wrexham has been relegated (or demoted) multiple times, winding up in the National League, the fifth highest division, but also the one that is the toughest to be promoted out of and into a higher division.

After two long seasons of eighteen and fifteen episodes each (and after an excruciating playoff loss in the climax of season one), season two concludes with Wrexham finally winning the National League Championship, granting them automatic promotion to next highest league, English Football League Two. This climax is extremely cathartic. For one, it’s well-shot, with slow motion cinematography lending epic grandeur to the players’ athleticism. It’s also well-edited: Wrexham is ahead 3-1 near the end of the game, so the outcome is more or less a foregone conclusion, but the episode is still climactic since it frequently cuts from the slow motion footage of the game to Reynolds, McElhenny, and various crowd members and long-suffering fans squirming in their seats, waiting with bated breath for the final whistle to sound. Perhaps most importantly, the climax is also scored to the triumphant grandeur of Bill Conti’s “Going the Distance,” originally written for Rocky in 1976, but used here in equally stirring fashion. The orchestral piece is essentially a minute-and-a-half crescendo toward an exhilarating, minute-long climax, one perfectly fitting for athletic victories, regardless of sport.

However, what makes this ending so enthralling, beyond its formal and stylistic features, is that it’s built on the back of two seasons’ worth of television, the length of which Wrexham uses to its advantage. Thirty-three episodes is a lot of television real estate, and Wrexham fills this landscape by approaching the team from a wide variety of angles. Like most sports documentaries, there is an obvious focus on the drama inherent to athletic contests in general, with many significant matches taking center stage (such drama is known as a “crisis structure” in documentary, where the interest hinges on the outcome or climax of a pressure situation). And like any other sports documentary, there’s a focus on the lives of the athletes and coaches as well: many individual episodes spotlight particular players and their families, often paired with the player’s heroics in a particular match. And of course, Wrexham also focuses on Reynolds and McElhenney’s ownership of the team, often leaning heavily on their charisma as they learn the ins and outs of overseeing a football club: assembling the talent and resources necessary for running the team successfully; learning about the sport (early on they struggle with offsides rules); learning about Wales in general and Wrexham in particular (McElhenny even learns some Welsh); and falling in love with the team and the sport.

More importantly, the series also spends significant time with the residents of Wrexham and the fans of the team (or “supporters” as they term themselves). Over and over again, we learn what the football club means to the residents of this town, how much they love their team, and how central it is to their feelings of community and to their sense of identity and self-worth. We meet single parents, bar owners, autistic teens, team volunteers, elderly residents who have had their hearts broken by the team’s fall from grace, little kids who have a lifetime of fandom ahead of them, and on and on. These characters are often highlighted in particular episodes, but they aren’t consigned entirely to these spotlights. Instead, they recur again and again over the course of the first two seasons, so much so that our experience of the team is mediated almost as much through their reactions to its ups and downs as it is through the formal choices of the documentary itself. They provide the series with a breadth and scope beyond just the stardom of the owners and the other key figures within the team.

It’s this focus on the residents of Wrexham that gives the climax of season two its power. Notably, the music, which is so crucial to this scene’s emotion, reaches its minute-and-a-half climax not when the final whistle blows, nor when the team’s players and coaches pile into a group hug, but at the exact moment when the fans rush the field in celebration (depicted in a shaky wide shot where the crowd’s roar jostles the camera, granting the image even more immediacy). This victory isn’t just about the team’s players and coaches, nor Reynolds and McElhenny (although we certainly see shots of them celebrating too), but most of all it’s about the many Wrexham residents who have lived and died with this team for years. Here, in the immediate moment of victory, we’re invited to share in their overwhelming ebullience as they scream and hug and sob and laugh. Not only do we see this celebration through the footage shot by the documentary crew, but we also see it through shots taken by the fans (and players) themselves, which further emphasizes the fans’ centrality to the entire experience.

The documentary does away with interviews for the rest of the episode. They aren’t needed, since we know what the team’s victory means and how they and the fans feel, not only because can we see their elated celebration, but also because we’ve been following them for thirty-three episodes. The extensive time spent with these characters better allows us to share in their outpouring of joy, and lets us know that it’s the product of years of tension, the exorcism of many past demons, and the validation of this town’s love for its team and its hopes for the future. Reynolds and McElhenney’s star power might draw in viewers initially, but it’s our intimate knowledge of Wrexham’s love for its team that provides the series’ most powerful emotive punch. As my wife said to me after watching the climax, “That’s how fans are made.”

Other notes:

- As if to underscore the time the series spends focusing on the fans, in season two, many of the Wrexham residents featured in the first season comment on how astonished they are to be treated like minor celebrities themselves, describing how they've been asked for autographs and selfies by fans of the series. 

- Aside from its innate qualities as a stirring piece of music, it’s also fitting that Wrexham’s producers used the music composed for Rocky in the climax of season two, given that the first two seasons of the series actually resemble the structure of Rocky and Rocky II (spoilers for a pair of films from over forty years ago): much like Rocky, who loses the title bout with Apollo Creed in the original Rocky, Wrexham also loses in the playoffs at the end of season one, and of course, both Rocky and Wrexham win in the sequel.

- Despite Wrexham’s climax drawing so much of its strength from the time it spends with the team’s fans and the residents of Wrexham, sometimes season two struggled to fill its fifteen episodes, with some episodes diverging into distinctively tangential topics, like the episode entitled “Gresford,” which is about a 1934 coal mining disaster that killed over 260 Wrexham coal miners. Perhaps this struggle is one of the reasons season three of Wrexham (which I have yet to watch) is only eight episodes long.

- In one very important respect, the Wrexham producers were lucky in season two, in that there were actual competitive stakes to the games the team played. McElhenny and Reynolds poured a lot of money into this team to better ensure that it was promoted out of the National League and into the English Football League, where lucrative business opportunities will be much easier to come by (as much as they seem to have grown to love the town, their purchase of the team is also a business venture for them, and they want the team to succeed to grow their business and its profit potential – thus their decision to make a television series about the venture). However, this also meant that Wrexham was a lot better than many of its competitors in the National League, which, of course, would make the actual sports part of this sports documentary somewhat unexciting (Wrexham never lost a home game in season two, for instance). However, while Wrexham was winning most of its games, another team in the National League, Nott’s County, was able to match them nearly win for win, so the entire season turned into a two-team competition for first place (and automatic promotion), lending each individual match against lesser teams much higher dramatic stakes.

- As if to give them their due, near the end of season two, one episode also includes interviews with some of the players and coaches for Nott’s County. I think I would have enjoyed a bit more time spent with this team, rather than focusing on something like the Gresford tragedy, because it would have given a sense of the stakes for the other main competitor this season as well.

- However, unlike the Gresford diversion, I greatly enjoyed the two episodes that focused entirely on the women’s Wrexham squad – more time spent with them also would have been nice.

- Reynolds and McElhenney seemed like they attended many more matches in season two than in season one. Perhaps this reflects their increasing emotional investment in the team, or perhaps it's simply a product of scheduling happenstance (or both), but it also made me wonder about how much time they were actually spending in Wrexham, and how they were dealing with the jetlag. 

Sunday, April 16, 2023

Star Trek: Picard, Season 3, Episode 9, "Vox"

For as creatively spotty and frequently frustrating as Star Trek: Picard has been, I still admire its commitment to undoing some of the biggest missteps of the Next Generation movies. Not only has Picard resurrected Data twice (once to provide a more fitting sendoff than he received in Star Trek: Nemesis, and then again as a part of this third season’s effort to bring back all of the Next Generation characters), but now, in “Vox,” Picard has also -- at long last -- resurrected the Enterprise-D.

Saturday, March 11, 2023

Star Trek: Picard, Season 3, Episode 4, "No Win Scenario"

I was cautiously optimistic heading into season three of Star Trek: Picard. After all, the trailers promised the return of many beloved characters from The Next Generation – Riker! Worf! Dr. Crusher! Lore! Moriarty!? – and the parts of season one and two that I enjoyed were largely restricted to events involving those TNG legacy characters, particularly the episode featuring Riker and Troi extensively, as well as the season one finale, which gave Data a much more emotional sendoff than he received in Star Trek: Nemesis. However, the writing in season three of Picard continues to be fairly disappointing, reproducing a lot of the problems that plagued its first two seasons (especially season two, which I thought was largely abysmal), even with a much heavier emphasis on characters and relationships for which I have great fondness.

Wednesday, August 17, 2022

Better Call Saul Season 6, Episode 13, “Saul Gone”

"Saul Gone,” the Better Call Saul series finale, is certainly one of the best episodes of either Breaking Bad or Better Call Saul, and might even be the very best of either series. Not only does it satisfyingly resolve the story of Jimmy McGill/Saul Goodman, but in doing so, it also brilliantly implements an analogy to time machines. This implementation takes many forms. For one, “Saul Gone” is about Jimmy/Saul’s attempts to go back and fix the mistakes and crimes of his past, not by literally traveling through time, but by finally being honest about their nature, atoning for them, and facing up to their consequences. Interspersed throughout are many flashbacks to different parts of Jimmy’s life, which is a narrative device that somewhat resembles a time machine, allowing us (if not the characters) to revisit the past. What’s more, these flashbacks not only retrospectively enrich previous parts of Jimmy/Saul’s story by further revealing his capacity for introspection and his attempts to wrestle with his own moral quandaries, but the characters in these flashbacks also literally fantasize about how they might use time machines to change things that they regret about their pasts. Finally, the time machine analogy is also worked into the fabric of the episode both through the reappearance of a copy of H.G. Wells’s The Time Machine (which itself acquires new significance), and through the many parallels “Saul Gone” creates with previous parts of the series, most powerfully in the final scene between Jimmy and Kim. All of these temporal loops and whorls, both literal and figurative, layer on top of one another, resulting in a tremendously complex, highly emotional, and spectacularly executed series finale. “Saul Gone” is one for the ages. 

Wednesday, August 10, 2022

Better Call Saul Season 6, Episode 12, “Waterworks”

“This guy, any good?” This is the question that Jesse asks Kim about the competency of Saul’s legal practice when she runs into Jesse outside of Saul’s office in a crucial flashback scene in “Waterworks.” It’s a wonderful moment, not just because it’s a bonus Jesse cameo, or because it represents yet one more fleeting intersection between Kim and other elements of the Heisenberg-verse (akin to her encounter with Mike in “Hit and Run”), but also because the question can be easily interpreted as being about the quality of Saul’s character, hilariously boiling down Better Call Saul’s central concern into four simple words. Is there anything morally good about Saul Goodman – any vestiges of the good person Jimmy McGill used to be, still tucked away inside of Saul – or is he rotten to the core, having fully become the jaundiced, law-bending clown we know from Breaking Bad? The extended time we’ve had with Gene these past three episodes in the wake of everything that happened on Breaking Bad suggests that the answer is complicated, and that we might not be able to make a final judgment until the series finale. 

Tuesday, August 2, 2022

Better Call Saul, Season 6, Episode 11, “Breaking Bad”

“Breaking Bad” is a masterful episode of Better Call Saul. Not only does it deepen our understanding of why Saul got into business with Walt and Jesse in the first place, but it also draws parallels between Gene’s behavior in the present and Saul’s actions in the past, and perhaps most remarkably, somehow it does these things while also withholding a key piece of information that would better explain Gene’s actions throughout the episode, namely his decision to seemingly “break bad” himself by committing more scams with Jeff and Rick, even after Gene put it all behind him in “Nippy.”

Tuesday, July 26, 2022

Better Call Saul Season 6, Episode 10, “Nippy”

In “Nippy,” season six of Better Call Saul finally returns to Cinnabon Gene's life in Nebraska to resolve the conflict that began in the prologue of the season five premiere, “Magic Man,” where Gene had been identified as Saul by a cabbie that used to live in Albuquerque. In doing so, “Nippy” fulfilled my long-anticipated hope that the series would spend an entire episode set in Nebraska with Gene, although it did so not to show the past catching up with Gene (as I once speculated), but instead to show us a more or less self-contained vintage Slippin’ Jimmy caper.