The most profound writing on television at the moment gives us sympathetic yet unsavory characters who wrestle with the fuzzy divide between honorable and dishonorable, regularly erring on the dark side.
Tony Soprano tops the list of anti-heroes pushing the line, rationalizing bad choices by deferring to longtime loyalties. In marital and family relations, citizenship and ethical behavior he comes up short, but he’s not about to break the code he considers his moral compass.
He’s not alone. Al Swearingen does what he thinks is fair if not quite legal in the territory of “Deadwood”; Vic Mackey cleans up the streets of Los Angeles, an effective cop with unorthodox (that is, corrupt) methods, on “The Shield.” They and other fictional rogues worry the distinctions between what’s right and what’s simply necessary in their worlds.
That collision of loyalties in a complicated world finds expression nightly on TV.
In the tradition these superb efforts capitalizing on the notion of moral ambiguity – notably “The Sopranos,” “The Shield,” “Deadwood,” “Nip/Tuck” and “The Wire” – Showtime launches an exploration of a pair of brothers whose sense of morality is as uncompromising as it is twisted.
“Brotherhood,” premiering at 8 tonight on Showtime, joins the list of dark dramas built on shifting perceptions of morality. The 11-episode series is a study of ambition, power and the loose relationships to truth and honesty that seem so prevalent in today’s public and business leaders, increasingly reflected in media portrayals.
(Surely at least one screenwriter has a character modeled on Ken Lay in the works for future exploration of shifting morality’s slippery slope. Moral relativism may be the second most successful theme in storytelling, after boy-gets-girl.)
“Brotherhood” finds its setting in contemporary Irish-American blue-collar Rhode Island, its framework in Cain and Abel.
The moral compass was always slightly off-kilter in the Caffee household.
Tommy Caffee (Jason Clarke) grew up to be a popular Providence, R.I., politician, well versed in backroom deals and underhanded favors. Older brother Michael Caffee (Jason Isaacs) is a more traditional crook, a gangster returned from prison to the neighborhood they know as The Hill, intent on regaining control of the local underworld from the reigning crime boss.
The brothers live by strict moral codes. Corrupt and cockeyed moral codes, to be sure, but strictly observed.
Their mother, Rose (Fionnula Flanagan), is caught in the middle, a master manipulator who adores her sons and is faithful to family first. She knows the boys would simply eliminate each other if they could, but she also knows they’ll dutifully show up at her place for Sunday dinner.
The brothers ultimately must defend each other. They do this by calling in favors, just as Tony (“The Sopranos”), Officer Jimmy McNulty (“The Wire”) or Dr. Christian Troy (“Nip/Tuck”) do to further their personal missions. The tension between loving and wanting to kill each other is the ongoing dynamic of the brotherly relationship.
Tommy is a devoted family man who sincerely believes he should do whatever it takes to reverse the urban decline that afflicts his hometown. Meanwhile his wife Eileen (Annabeth Gish) smiles for the cameras when her role as the state representative’s spouse requires it, but she is deeply unhappy, trapped in The Hill and looking for short-term escapes in unexpected places.
Providence police officer Declan Giggs (Ethan Embry) is a lifelong friend of the Caffee family whose professional duty is in constant conflict with his loyalties to the ‘hood.
So many moral quandaries, so little time. The backdrop through it all is a slice of decaying America.
Executive producer Henry Bromell (“Homicide: Life on the Street” and “Northern Exposure”) took pains to shoot the series on location in Providence. The city’s working-class neighborhoods, abandoned factories, ethnic diversity and local accents lend a distinctive flavor to the series.
“Brotherhood” isn’t as immediately enticing as “The Sopranos.” The opening episodes aren’t as shocking as “The Shield” nor as brilliantly written as “The Wire.”
But the series aims high and seems crafted for the long haul.
TV critic Joanne Ostrow can be reached at 303-820-1830 or jostrow@denverpost.com.
