Weekly meditations from your humble messenger
The
Shrink's Mind
(In Treatment, 3/10/08)
By Nicholas Nicastro
I
have to admit, I'm obsessed with the new HBO series In Treatment.
It's true that the show, which focuses on the analytic travails of psychologist
Paul Weston (Gabriel Byrne), doesn't seem like chancey material—characters
from just about every hit series, from Six Feet Under to Nip/Tuck
, end up on a shrink's couch at one time or another. Tony's sessions
with Dr. Melfi on The Sopranos were as much a trademark of that
show as pork for lunch at Satriale's or ogling strippers at the Bada
Bing. Couples therapy also figured large in another recent HBO series,
the otherwise quite physical Tell Me You Love Me.
But In Treatment is different.
For starters, it's on every weeknight. The psychoanalysis here is not
part of the drama—each 30-minute episode is an analytic session,
with each day of the week devoted to a particular patient, and just
about every minute to the byplay between Paul and his patients. The
show therefore calls for heavy commitment. Following all the subplots,
which influence and impinge on each other, becomes a daily occupation—sort
of like becoming a therapist yourself.
Mondays focus on Laura (Melissa
George), a young, intimacy-averse physician with a history of sexual
impulsiveness. In a classic case of "erotic transference,"
she's also fallen desperately in love with Paul—a fact that presents
a challenge considering the frail condition of his own marriage (see
below). On Tuesday we see Air Force bomber-pilot Alex (Blair Underwood),
who is bothered by something that happened over Iraq but whose sessions
with Paul often devolve into pissing contests. Wednesdays are about
Sophie (Mia Wasikowska), a gymnast in her ugly teens who may or may
not be seriously suicidal. The troubled married couple Jake and Amy
(Josh Charles and Embeth Davidtz) lock horns on Thursdays. On Fridays
we follow Paul to his own sessions with his counseling supervisor, Gina
(Dianne Wiest), who props Paul up as the weight of his professional
life threatens to crush his own marriage.
Now there are viewers for whom this
much daily psychodrama sounds about as welcome as having their fingernails
extracted with pliers. Fair enough, but that's their loss. For at its
best In Treatment offers drama of almost addictive purity—just
two characters, without props or bits of situational business to fall
back on, groping about for inconvenient truths. At best they challenge
each other, but more often they conceal far more than they share. That's
particularly true of Paul, who looks like a man hollowed out by his
cares. "To be honest, I thought you looked like a dead man,"
says Laura when she describes her first impression of him. "I wanted
to breath life into you." As a character who is constantly tested,
consigned to help folks not all that sure they want mental health after
all, Byrne alternately sprints and crawls the dramatic equivalent of
a marathon. It's a remarkable performance.
To anyone who's actually been "in
treatment," the show does seem to cut corners. Paul and Gina interrupt,
contradict, and challenge their patients so much you'd think they weren't
being paid by the hour; conversely, a roster of patients this exhausting
would probably induce most real therapists to find a less intense line
of work. Paul's real-life counterparts carp about the details: "More
people get up and use the bathroom in the middle of a session in one
week of Dr. Weston's practice than in 30 years of my own practice,"
one psychiatrist complained recently to the LA Times. But many
professionals appear to be keep tuning in.
In Treatment is, to my knowledge,
the first US TV series to be a remake of an Israeli one. Be'tipul
premiered in 2005 on Israel's Channel 3, and has run eighty episodes
so far. There are differences—the Israeli version of Alex had his
breakdown over Palestinian territory, not Iraq, and the US version seems
to present a consistently better-looking cast. Across continents and
cultures, though, the anatomy under the skin does show a reassuring
consistency.
©2008 Nicholas Nicastro
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