As the first episode of the “House of Cards” second season ends, Frank Underwood (Kevin Spacey) looks directly into camera and says, “Did you think I’d forgotten you? Perhaps you hoped I had ... Welcome back.” If the hype surrounding this season’s release is any indication, audiences certainly have not forgotten about Frank. The second iteration of this political thriller is a leap forward -- albeit with some boring moments -- as the show explores power hungry characters willing to do the unthinkable to expand their clout in Washington, D.C.
The second season starts where the first left off: Frank and his wife Claire (Robin Wright) jogging silently through an unnamed Washington, D.C., park. The Underwoods maintain a breakneck pace, only stopping momentarily to reflect on where they are. Frank is about to be sworn in as the Vice President which, while the first season made the process almost look easy, is remarkable. Thanks to Chief of Staff Douglas Stamper (Michael Kelly), reporter-turned-lover-turned-reporter-again Zoe Barnes (Kate Mara), the late Representative Peter Russo (Corey Stoll) and others, Frank has fought his way up the Washington food chain.
Season two follows Frank as he uses his power to reap even more. He tracks down super PAC funds contributed by a cabal of shady Chinese businessmen. He sabotages investigations into Peter Russo’s death. And he avoids a government shutdown with the precise application of parliamentary procedure.
To say the least, the Machiavellian wheeling and dealing required to keep all of these balls in the air, while still advancing his own interests, keeps Frank quite busy. Additional romantic interludes fill much of the rest of the season’s time, including one between Remy Danton (Mahershala Ali) and newly appointed Majority Whip Jacqueline Sharp (Molly Parker).
Yet the season’s main plot focuses on Frank separating the feeble, easily manipulated President Walker (Michael Gill) from his friend and mentor, ultra-wealthy businessman Raymond Tusk (Gerald McRaney). Unfortunately, that plot forms much of the season’s weaker middle episodes. The first season thrived in its plot diversity. Unlike this season, the initial 13 episodes never had Frank involved in one bump in the road for more than a few episodes. As he idiosyncratically broke the fourth wall, Frank easily placed each obstacle within the context of the last.
In season two, much of Underwood’s problems are embattled in his tug-of-war with Tusk over President Walker. While all of Frank’s complex machinations come into focus by the final two episodes, much of why Frank cares so much about $25 million dollars being re-routed to Republican super PACs seems fuzzy and unimportant. This is particularly prevalent in the context of modern elections, in which one presidential candidate can spend nearly $1 billion to get elected. Perhaps a result of Netflix’s all-at-once content delivery, it’s easy to tune out much of the intricate set-ups of some episodes and tune back in for their inevitable results.
As such, the better episodes of the second season are at the front and back. Episodes one and four (“Chapter 14” and “Chapter 17”) are standouts, as are 11, 12 and 13 (“Chapter 24”, “Chapter 25” and “Chapter 26”). Of particular note is episode four, in which the promise of Claire’s depth, hinted at in episode four of the first season, is finally fulfilled. Wright displays some of the best acting of the season here, skillfully exploring her character’s painful history in the most public manner possible. She puts forward a provocative thesis: the past can exist both as pain and as drive. Claire may be a victim, but she can -- and does -- transform her victimization into motivation. Credit belongs to the writers, who included so-called ripped from the headlines issues without the haphazardness that other shows have attempted, but don’t always succeed in executing.
What makes the popularity of “House of Cards” so interesting is how it differs from other wildly popular political thrillers. Comparisons between “The West Wing” (1999-2006) and “House of Cards” abound, but the essential difference is this: the former involves good people exercising power for the right reasons and the right ends, while the latter is about morally ambivalent, or even morally bankrupt, people exercising power for their own reasons and their own ends.
In the current political climate, with a gridlocked and ineffectual government, it is not particularly surprising that audiences want a protagonist who can wield power effectively to accomplish anything at all. Even President Obama himself remarked, when asked about the first season, “I wish things were that ruthlessly efficient ... It’s true. It’s like, Kevin Spacey, man, this guy’s getting a lot of stuff done.” Has Frank Underwood’s rise reflected a new, post-idealist America? Who knows and, as Frank would probably say, who cares? All that matters in Frank Underwood’s America is who has power, who doesn’t and who is in the way. All of that and, of course, a good rack of ribs.
