“American Crime” exposes our cultural blind spots
“People have blind spots,” says a Latina teacher to an African-American principal in season 2 of “American Crime.” “I’m just trying to help you see yours.”
Clearly drawn TV characters in smart dramas have away of exposing the viewers’ weaknesses, prejudices and blind spots, too.
At the moment, “American Crime” on ABC may be television’s best guide to our national confusion and tone deafness when it comes to class, gender, race, religion and sexual orientation.
As one of the medium’s most challenging, in- your- face modern dramas, John Ridley’s anthology series has a way of surprising, playing on preconceptions and contradicting assumptions. Ridley (“12 Years A Slave”), the creator- writer- producer, has delivered a 10- episode series that is provocative not just in terms of clever scriptwriting but in what it asks of the viewer.
“American Crime” returns Jan. 6 ( at 9 p. m. on Channel 7) with a fresh story and relevant concerns probing a range of American blind spots. The topical, Emmynominated anthology on ABC continues to feel like an artful work of premium cable.
Among the ideas our culture is loathe to confront, this season probes socioeconomic disparities, an exclusive ( white) private school and a lower- income public school, friction between brown and black Americans, racism on the part of affluent blacks, matters of sexual identity, the fallout from sexting technology and attitudes toward rape.
The excellent first season dealt with matters of religion and race; this season is more focused on class. Once again, the police work and procedural
elements take place off camera. Law enforcement is not Ridley’s main interest. Rather, he uses the idea of “crime” to talk about class, race, immigration and bigotry and to present a less-than-flattering portrait of the American psyche. The characters usually mean well and have struggled to get where they are. But their cultural biases are glaring.
A repertory company of sorts reassembles for the second season with a drama set in the Midwest this time: Felicity Huffman is terrific as a ladder- climbing private school head mistress most interested in maintaining the school’s elite status.
Timothy Hutton plays off her well as the basketball coach, fiercely protective of his players. Lili Taylor telegraphs worry for her son, who apparently was drugged and raped at a school party. Elvis Nolasco, whowas outstanding as the lost drug addict in the first season, is again powerful as the dedicated school principal. And Regina King returns, this time as a privileged wife and mother with a reputation to protect, as her son is one of those accused of raping another boy.
King, who won an Emmy for her portrayal of the devout Muslim sister of the accused in season 1, is again riveting as the elitist.
Her character, the self- satisfied Terri LaCroix, is among the most disarming, exhibiting a sort of reverse racism rarely analyzed on TV. After firing a black subordinate, LaCroix complains to friends that she faces pressure from black and white worlds: “Out comes the black card. ... ‘ Can’t you just help me this one time, sistah?’ I’m dealing with expectations on one side and entitlement on the other.”
Assumptions about rape are likewise questioned. “Look if I was a girl ... ” the male victim, Taylor Blaine ( Connor Jessup), tells his therapist. “People lose their minds when something happens to a girl ... but, a guy?”
Set in Indianapolis, representative of the heart of middle America, the story points to ugly ingrained attitudes that could lie beneath the surface at any high school in the country.
“That party was messed up, man. I knew we were going to get in trouble,” says one member of the basketball team.
The grown- ups act out almost as badly as the kids. Some heap blame on a local newspaper reporter for “stirring things up.” Others are hooked on “pot candy,” suffering financially or ignoring trouble signs in their marriages.
Again, the mood is observant, even detached, without cheesy music to cue emotions. The camera often looks elsewhere when people are talking; the characters exhibit emotions that contradict what they’re saying. A vérité style with no narration, no framing device is again effective.
This isn’t feel- good- TV to relax by. It’s more ambitious than that. Modern life is not easy. High school is a microcosm of the mine field ahead. Everyone has a narrow self- interest, and this sort of gritty drama can help us identify and see beyond those limits.