Many shows have tried to depict the United States' war against terrorism, but few have been able to build the nervous tension of Showtime's"Homeland." Based on the popular Israeli show, "Hatufim" (2009−2010), the series follows CIA operative Carrie Mathison (Claire Danes) as she investigates Sergeant Brody (Damian Lewis), whose loyalties may have shifted during the eight years in which he was held hostage in Afghanistan. The rest of the CIA and the entire nation see Brody as a great American hero, but Mathison suspects he may be an al−Qaida agent, and foresees possible destruction.
The show draws some inspiration from "The Manchurian Candidate" (1962) and Fox's "24" (2001−2010), though it takes more of a psychological approach to a familiar story. The Emmy−winning Danes makes Mathison appear to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown every time she is on screen. Danes' stellar acting adds immense tension to many scenes; she takes seemingly simple tasks and makes them monumental in magnitude and scope.
Mathison secretly takes anti−psychotic medication and always seems to be one mistake away from being fired, and "Homeland" uses both of these dramatic hinges to its advantage. It becomes hard for viewers to distinguish between her believable delusions and actual threats that only she notices. This ambiguity paints Mathison as a microcosm for the larger struggle with terrorism — her intense paranoia makes it difficult for her to sort out genuine from delusional concerns.
Most of the magnetism of the show lies in its uncertainty. Like its characters, "Homeland's" viewers are engrossed in the process of figuring out what is really happening and what is fear−based conjecture.
Danes' stoic performance and the superb scripting of Mathison's character sell this ambivalence extremely well. Mathison's disposition is dichotomous: She flips out at little details, yet manages to keep herself grounded and understandable. The way she bounces between two extremes prevents "Homeland" from being just another cheap thriller. Danes has the ability to keep her character strong even when she is about to break down, which stops her from being a weak wreck and instead makes her slightly scary. The viewer can tell Mathison will go far to do what she believes is right, despite the daunting obstacles standing in her way.
The series has few special effects — don't expect a lot of explosions with this show — and the plot never ventures into spy novel territory, either. "Homeland" is more of a thinking−person's show — the kind of program that puts character depth and ethical questioning above adrenaline−pumping action.
Brody's actual story — much of which is creepily shown through Mathison's illegal surveillance of Brody's home and family — offers intriguing family drama and a portrait of a soldier trying to reintegrate into civilian life. In the eight years that Brody has been gone, his wife has started another relationship, his son has grown up with no memory of him and his daughter has had a hard time adjusting to her father's presumed death. Now that he's returned, the family has an even more difficult task of reacquainting themselves with someone they all said agonizing goodbyes to already. Brody's family — and "Homeland's" audience — is left wondering if it is possible to pick up where they left off.
This dynamic plays out nicely in the relationship between Brody and his wife, Jessica (MorenaBaccarin), when the couple has sex for the first time since his return. The experience is awkward — Jessica seems to not really know if Brody is still the man she fell in love with before, and Brody tries to forget the physical torment he faced as a prisoner. It is almost painful to watch as these two desperately try to reconnect and end up feeling farther apart instead.
Even more disconcertingly, the viewer knows Mathison is watching Brody and his wife's sex scene voyeuristically from her surveillance monitor. Mathison quickly slips into obsession about learning the truth about Brody — so much so that she seems to pose a greater threat to society than the questionable Brody himself.
The quiet sense of menace that lurks through almost every scene of this brilliant new show makes "Homeland" an edge−of−your−seat thriller. The show is filled with gritty and realistic details, and yet it is still hard to tell exactly where the show is going to go next. A television thriller with top−notch acting, suspenseful atmosphere and a thoughtful plot, "Homeland" should capture the attention of many viewers.
"Before I Leave You," a Cambridge−based drama penned by local playwright RosannaYamagivaAlfaro, is advertised as a "love story for grownups." This tagline, however, risks oversimplifying the show, which is a story about aging, families and broken relationships — with only a hint of romance mixed in.
The play begins at what seems like a family dinner table. However, audiences quickly learn that the scene is actually set in a Chinese restaurant. The "family" at the table is composed of two middle−aged professors, Koji (Glenn Kubota) and Jeremy (Ross Bickell); Koji's painter wife, Emily (KippyGoldfarb); and Jeremy's freeloading sister, Trish (Karen MacDonald.) The characters interact, bicker and argue just as a family would.
These dinner−table conversations anchor the play as it nosedives into more complex and abstract territory. "Before" offers audiences a spread of health problems, infidelity and, eventually, true love — or something like it.
The set obtains an academic, quaint tone from the stacks of bookshelves in the background, as well as a surreal quality from its constantly shifting colors. The aesthetics in "Before" highlight the dreamy and subtle depth with which the piece tackles its nebulous themes.
Theme, rather than plot, binds "Before" together. While each scene could stand as a vignette in its own right, together, the scenes explore the confusion of growing old together — and growing old alone. The thought of death shadows the entire show and places a dark lens over Koji's and Emily's marital problems and Jeremy's failing health. Though a little heavy, the plot stays interesting as characters voice their various opinions on Jeremy's issues, and on Peter (Alexis Camins) and Koji distancing themselves from the family.
But, time and time again, "Before" does not take itself seriously enough. Koji has multiple epiphanies about his Asian heritage — a vague term that leaves audiences wondering what exactly he means by Asian and the substance of his realizations. The romantic plot twist at the end is overworked and a little forced with raunchy humor that doesn't seem to fit the rest of the play. "Before" doesn't need a happy ending, and it could very easily have ended on its penultimate scene.
The play's local flavor, however, does add something extra. "Before" is very obviously a play written in close proximity to Boston; it's rife with college professors, references to places in Cambridge and a gag about getting an apartment in Somerville.
The quality of each actor's individual performance varies by scene. Camins is awkward in one−on−one exchanges but has a great group dynamic. Goldfarb is quiet and easily lost among the other actors, but her demure performance seems to stay true to Emily's character. MacDonald's character, Trish, is delightfully irritating throughout the play.
However, the relationship between Jeremy and Koji steals the stage. Their obviously close friendship, and the confusion that arises between them, is something anyone with a best friend can relate to. More satisfying still is how much their final discussion reveals about Koji's character, when the audience that has been determined to like him for so much of the play then feels personally betrayed.
If a show is measured by how much you think about it afterwards, "Before I Leave You" has succeeded in every way possible. It aptly tackles personal issues and asks questions that it doesn't answer. Overall, "Before" is not a must−see, but it's far from painful theater.
