John' explores surfing's dark underbelly

A few scenes into the second episode of HBO's new "John From Cincinnati," one of the characters starts a long, rambling discourse about his life.

After a bit, another character raises his eyebrows and says, "You're getting a little hard to follow."

That may be how many viewers feel about "John" at just about the same point. The series, which debuts this Sunday at 10 after the series finale of "The Sopranos," certainly is unique, not only in its setting but in its tone and ambitions. But it also is maddeningly elusive in its vision, and could be frustrating to anyone seeking a central story line or even sympathetic characters to hang on to.

Set in a seamy Southern California beach world, "John" has been something of a Frankenstein's monster in its evolution. Creator David Milch ("Deadwood," "NYPD Blue") originally intended the show to be set in New York City, far away from the waves.

But HBO thought his concept might fit into an idea brought to the cable channel by Herb and Dibi Fletcher, the patriarch and matriarch of a well-known surfing family in San Clemente who bear something of a resemblance to the Yost family in "John." Along the way, Milch tacked on input from Kem Nunn, whose surf noir novels (such as "Tijuana Straits") have developed a cult following.

The result is a series about surfing that bears absolutely no relationship to the sunny world immortalized by the Beach Boys. Imperial Beach is a town of shuttered motels, dilapidated
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duplexes, needle-strewn beaches and lost souls. Life is gnarly, as twisted as the driftwood littering the sands.

The three generations of the Yost family, surfing legends who call Imperial Beach home, are awash in self-pity, with the exception of grandson and surf-champion-in-training Shaun (played by Grayson Fletcher, the Fletchers' real-life grandson).

Grandfather Mitch (Bruce Greenwood of "I, Robot") revolutionized the sport but now surfs in the early morning mists to avoid his fans. Grandmother Cissy (Rebecca De Mornay, "Risky Business") struggles to keep the family together with a surf shop and pushes Shaun to compete in surf contests - against Mitch's wishes. Mitch and Cissy's son Butchie (Brad Van Holt, "Black Hawk Down") has degenerated from top pro athlete to a loser who staggers from drug score to drug score.

Swirling around the family is a rogue's gallery of users, abusers and enablers. There's a lawyer (Willie Garson of "Sex and the City") who doesn't exactly serve high-end clients, a motel manager (veteran character actor Luiz Guzman) who gives Butchie a place to live and deal, and the new motel owner (Matt Winston, "Little Miss Sunshine") who is equally fond of his guns and his teddy bear.

A slightly-addled ex-cop who talks to birds (Ed O'Neill of "Married With Children") provides Shaun with something of a father figure. A slimy surfing promoter (Luke Perry, "Beverly Hills, 90210"), who Mitch blames for Butchie's addiction, is trying to get his hooks into Shaun.

About the only adult with a measure of focus in her life is Cissy's assistant at the surf shop (real-life pro surfer Keala Kennelly) - and she's got the hots for Butchie, hardly a winning proposition.

And then there's John (Austin Nichols, who played Morgan Earp on "Deadwood"), who is more likely from Mars than from Cincinnati. His first line - actually, the first line in the series - is "the end is near," before he goes on to offer such pronouncements as "Mitch Yost must get back in the game."

John is less a character (one of the problems with the early episodes of the series) than a symbolic device conjured up by Milch to alter the lives of the Yosts and - perhaps - to redeem them.

He is an emotional sponge who has no feelings (or anything else) of his own, but his presence on the beach gives rise to a series of miracles, including Mitch levitating and one of Bill's birds, a parrot named Zippy, bringing living things back from the dead.

In his past work, particularly on "Deadwood," Milch always has challenged audiences with his ideas and constructs. But "John" is so densely surrealistic and metaphysical, with glancing references to everything from Sept. 11 to German philosophy - and its setting and characters so initially unrelatable - that it's hard to grasp exactly what Milch has in mind.

In a recent interview, the ever-erudite Milch paraphrased the 19th century American philosopher William James in suggesting that the series is all about "lawless intrusions in what we take to be reality."

That's fine as a storytelling concept, but even the finest flights of fantasy need some grounding. My wife - whom I often use as a barometer on new shows - lasted through two episodes of "John" before turning to me and asking, "I care about these people precisely why?" It's a good question, likely to be raised by other viewers.

Still, I found enough mesmerizing moments, bits of character and sharp Milch dialogue in the opening episodes that I'll probably stick around to catch a few more waves.

Certainly, the cast is uniformly good (Greenwood and O'Neill stand out) and the direction by Mark Tinker on two of the first episodes, including Sunday's, is lovely. (Tinker, one of TV's best directors, has worked with Milch on "NYPD Blue" and "Deadwood," so he knows his way around the writer's profanity-laden, often dense passages.)

But at some point fairly quickly, Milch is going to have to give me and other viewers a little more than a quirky, albeit sometimes fascinating, tone poem and engage us with his storytelling. It's one thing to say your series is about something; it's another to convey that in a concrete way to the audience you are trying to reach.

source: www.mercurynews.com/