
Imagine an iceberg. The tip of it is the only part that shows above water, and that part is all we are really concerned with. The rest is just cold, salty, frozen darkness that we don’t really care about. By the time we even realize it’s there, it’s already too late, and we are just a string quartet on the deck of the Titanic. That is what the show Californication is like.
The tip of the iceberg is the top three characters, Hank (David Duchovny/Mulder), his wife (Natascha McElhone/George Clooney’s wife in Solaris), and his agent (Evan Handler/The bald guy from Sex and the City). These three are magical together. Layered, connected, honest, disconnected, they keep the story running smoothly and interestingly, and are just enough to keep the whole thing afloat, even though everyone else in the show is doing everything in their power to sink the whole damned thing.
And that’s what lies below the surface: the rest of the cast. I’m not going to sugar coat it, everyone else is stupid. Hank’s daughter is one of those Hollywood characters that doesn’t exist in the real world, which is a twelve year old girl that plays guitar and sings in a rock band, and says things that even I, as a 27 year old man(ish), would never even think about saying. Then, there is the main female protagonist, and Hank Moody’s biggest mistake, that looks like the “Jesus Was Wrong” kid from Little Miss Sunshine, but has the acting skills of Andre the Giant with a vagina.
In the end, I love this show. The top three, especially David Duchovny’s character, are more than enough to carry the series, while the rest just kind of help move it along. Be warned, though, it is most definitely NOT a family show, and if you would feel uncomfortable watching Duchovny’s other very popular TV show (Red Shoe Diaries, duh) with your mom and dad, this one won’t be any better. It’s great, though, seriously.
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