Netflix is a wonderful thing. Thanks to its no late-fee policy and streaming video, I've been able to watch two shows this year that had been hidden behind the HBO/Showtime wall for me in the past: In Treatment and Dexter. In Treatment is an HBO show that follows a psychiatrist, Pau
l Weston (Gabriel Byrne) and four of his patients. When in season, it airs Monday through Friday, with each patient visiting Paul on each day, followed by Paul visiting his own therapist (Dianne Wiest) on Friday. Ninety-nine percent of the action takes place inside Paul's office; the show is entirely dialogue. In contrast, Showtime's Dexter is about a blood spatter specialist who's also a serial killer. Except he only kills other murderers. The action takes place at bloody crime scene and the streets of Miami. In other words, you'd expect In Treatment to appeal to middle age academic types, and Dexter to appeal to gore-loving teenagers. More in the first category than the second, I expected to enjoy In Treatment for its psychological revelations. But after nearly finishing the first season of In Treatment, and the first three seasons of Dexter, I must confess that both satisfies one's voyeuristic interest in others' psychological failings.
In Treatment starts off slowly, with characters contextualizing their existence to Paul. But after the first couple of weeks, Paul starts to unravel their lies and hidden pasts. We come to understand why a gorgeous young doctor has a thing for older men, why a married woman wants to be treated badly by her husband, why an Airforce pilot leaves his wife. Along the way, we also see Paul's marriage disintegrate as he learns of his wife's affair, and confronts his own feelings for one of his patients. Sometimes when a patient misses an appointment, we are treated to an epic fight between Paul and his wife instead. The show is driven by dialogue, but you gradually see how powerful this dialogue is. The verbal abuse that the couple who sees Paul for marriage counseling heap on each other is akin to Antichrist-like physical abuse. Paul's cringe-worthy fights with his wife recall your last epic battle just like how an actor's on screen wound reminds you of that time you needed stitches. In this way, In Treatment exposes raw psychological wounds that make you feel almost shameful for intruding.
Beyond its body count and Michael Hall's astounding acts of killing, Dexter is at its heart a psychological show. In contrast to In Treatment, however, Dexter invites the viewer to explore Dexter Morgan's persona through his thoughtful voiceovers. Dexter tells us he's a "m
onster," someone who has no feelings. He "needs" to kill. Luckily, his adopted father recognized this need early on and taught him a code to only kill other serial killers. This concept, which could expose Dexter to many plot holes, is remarkably believable due to Dexter's rich psychological development. In the first season, he grapples with his true identity; in the second, he grapples with his adopted father's shadow; in the third, he grapples with sharing himself with others. Even though the other characters are blind to Dexter's true self, the audience feels like Dexter's true confidante. Despite the many dead bodies and other gruesome shenanigans, Dexter does not seek to provide gratuitous grossness.
Separately, both In Treatment and Dexter provide artful depictions of people. Together, they show that this can be done artfully with two very different concepts.
l Weston (Gabriel Byrne) and four of his patients. When in season, it airs Monday through Friday, with each patient visiting Paul on each day, followed by Paul visiting his own therapist (Dianne Wiest) on Friday. Ninety-nine percent of the action takes place inside Paul's office; the show is entirely dialogue. In contrast, Showtime's Dexter is about a blood spatter specialist who's also a serial killer. Except he only kills other murderers. The action takes place at bloody crime scene and the streets of Miami. In other words, you'd expect In Treatment to appeal to middle age academic types, and Dexter to appeal to gore-loving teenagers. More in the first category than the second, I expected to enjoy In Treatment for its psychological revelations. But after nearly finishing the first season of In Treatment, and the first three seasons of Dexter, I must confess that both satisfies one's voyeuristic interest in others' psychological failings.In Treatment starts off slowly, with characters contextualizing their existence to Paul. But after the first couple of weeks, Paul starts to unravel their lies and hidden pasts. We come to understand why a gorgeous young doctor has a thing for older men, why a married woman wants to be treated badly by her husband, why an Airforce pilot leaves his wife. Along the way, we also see Paul's marriage disintegrate as he learns of his wife's affair, and confronts his own feelings for one of his patients. Sometimes when a patient misses an appointment, we are treated to an epic fight between Paul and his wife instead. The show is driven by dialogue, but you gradually see how powerful this dialogue is. The verbal abuse that the couple who sees Paul for marriage counseling heap on each other is akin to Antichrist-like physical abuse. Paul's cringe-worthy fights with his wife recall your last epic battle just like how an actor's on screen wound reminds you of that time you needed stitches. In this way, In Treatment exposes raw psychological wounds that make you feel almost shameful for intruding.
Beyond its body count and Michael Hall's astounding acts of killing, Dexter is at its heart a psychological show. In contrast to In Treatment, however, Dexter invites the viewer to explore Dexter Morgan's persona through his thoughtful voiceovers. Dexter tells us he's a "m
onster," someone who has no feelings. He "needs" to kill. Luckily, his adopted father recognized this need early on and taught him a code to only kill other serial killers. This concept, which could expose Dexter to many plot holes, is remarkably believable due to Dexter's rich psychological development. In the first season, he grapples with his true identity; in the second, he grapples with his adopted father's shadow; in the third, he grapples with sharing himself with others. Even though the other characters are blind to Dexter's true self, the audience feels like Dexter's true confidante. Despite the many dead bodies and other gruesome shenanigans, Dexter does not seek to provide gratuitous grossness.Separately, both In Treatment and Dexter provide artful depictions of people. Together, they show that this can be done artfully with two very different concepts.