House Of Cards: Our First Reaction

House Of Cards: Our First Reaction

Posted on Tuesday February 5, 2013, 11:57 by Olly Richards in Small Screen

The opening salvo in Netflix’ televisual revolution is predictably glossy, starry and expensive. But the streamer’s first move into original programming is also bravely adult, reaching for its audience with smart dialogue, tangles of political backstabbing, and slow burn storylines. It’s gunning for the prestige of HBO, not the ass ‘n’ action of Starz. And it’s a killer first blow.

Based on the British mini-series of the same name, now some 23 years old, itself adapted from Michael Dobbs' novel, House of Cards chronicles the slithering rise of Francis Underwood, a US congressman denied the position promised him by a newly-elected President. Not one to let even the slightest of betrayals go unpunished, Underwood begins a scheme that will destroy as many people as necessary in order to achieve what he wants. He’s the most dangerous creature in Washington, a man of great pettiness and almost limitless power. Underwood is brought to life by Kevin Spacey, greatly enjoying the frequent opportunities to be an absolute shit and always poised just at the brink of going over the top with the fourth-wall-breaking winks to camera and chewy Southern accent. It’s the juiciest role he’s had in years and he squeezes it until the pips squeak.

David Fincher sets the tone with the opening two episodes (he then hands over the reins to a series of other directors), a chilly two hours in which we are given absolutely nobody to like but plenty of people by whom to be fascinated. There’s disastrous, drug-fuelled senator Peter Russo (Corey Stoll), whose reliable idiocy makes him Underwood’s ideal puppet; punchy reporter Zoe Barnes (Kate Mara, sister of other Fincher muse Rooney) whose unfocused ambition works for Underwood both professionally and sexually; and rising imperiously above them all, Underwood’s wife Claire (Robin Wright), a charity worker whose good deeds are driven by a heart apparently hacked from ice and who is the only person capable of manipulating her husband. Wright is magnificent in the role, Lady Macbeth in tasteful tailoring. None of these people is a hero. They’re all on some level completely awful, but it’s the depths and motivations of that awfulness and the twists of their plots that are so alluring. You cheer them on to badness. Fincher establishes a shady mood, the atmosphere and visuals all steely cool. Even the scenes set in daytime feel leeched of light and warmth. It’s an entire story told in the shadows. There’s wit but no jokes and every laugh is at someone’s expense.

House Of Cards

Some of the richest moments are the frequent late-night catch-ups shared by Frank and Claire, perched on their windowsill sharing a cigarette and breathing out their indiscretions, all infidelities casually revealed and examined for how they might advance the couple. It’s a wonderfully weird relationship, the pair written as completely in love but also laser-focused on advancing their respective and combined position. If a little extra-marital sex can get them closer to the goal then it’s all good sport. Though the writing throughout is clever and succinct throughout, it flows best from these two.

Whether House of Cards is the first step in a new way of consuming television – either eking out or bingeing on all 13 episodes as you wish – is Netflix’ and the TV channels’ concern. All pioneering aside, House of Cards is one of the most absorbing and intelligent shows to come along in quite some time. It’s a joy to watch absolute power corrupt so creatively.