Northern Exposure: An Essay
Apr. 26th, 2007 04:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
feliciakwMany years ago, when Northern Exposure was in its first run in the early- to mid-‘90s, I missed most of the first and second “seasons” (each under 10 episodes, as NoEx was originally a mid-season/summer replacement). I vaguely remember seeing some of the mid-series and later-series eps, but having missed out on the early seasons, I was not familiar with the character backgrounds and did not fully appreciate the brilliance of the series. Having rediscovered NoEx on DVD, I have a new appreciation for the show.
How best can I describe Northern Exposure as a series? A brilliant, intelligent, tightly written, delightfully acted series that sadly lost its focus in its final season. Rarely do we get television this smart, this well-written, this insightful, witty, heartwarming, and thought-provoking. Rarer still is a series that can maintain these qualities beyond its natural life span.
NoEx is, at its core, Joel Fleischman’s story. From the beginning, it is based on the age-old premise of “stranger in a strange land.” In this case, the stranger is newly graduated New Yorker Doctor Joel Fleischman, played with skill and humor by Rob Morrow. In order to pay for medical school, Joel signed a contract with the state of Alaska whereby the state would pay for his schooling in exchange for several years of service in an assignment of its choosing. Joel arrives in Alaska believing he will be stationed in Anchorage, which he considers completely “do-able.” When he arrives at the administrative offices, however, he discovers that his servitude has been purchased by one Maurice Minnifield, business tycoon of Cicely, Alaska, the “strange land” into which Joel is introduced. To Joel’s chagrin, he discovers that Cicely is a small, remote, backwoods town lacking many—if not most—of the conveniences of a modern city. Cicely’s denizens are as quirky and un-New York as they come: Ed Chigliak, the young film student who comes and goes as he pleases; Holling Vincouer, the 60-something-year-old owner of the town tavern, who lives above his establishment with his young girlfriend, former Miss Northwest Passage Shelly Tambo; Maurice Minnifield, former NASA astronaut and “owner” of Joel’s contract; Chris Stevens, local philosopher, artist, and ex-con who DJs on Maurice’s radio station, KBHR; Maggie O’Connell, bush pilot, landlord, and Joel’s most aggressive verbal sparring partner; Marilyn Whirlwind, Joel’s taciturn self-appointed receptionist; and many others. It is these characters and this premise that lay the groundwork for NoEx’s exceptional storytelling.
Though the series is the story of Joel Fleischman, we certainly get storylines that run independently of Joel’s story. It is these storylines that develop the vast array of characters, stories that tell us how each character fits into this world, stories that make us care about these characters. Joel is the audience surrogate, through whom we see much—though not all—of the development of these characters, but often their storylines develop each of them as independent characters, contributing strongly to the over-reaching arch of Joel’s story and giving us other narratives to contemplate as well.
The rich, textured, multifaceted nature of all the characters contributes significantly to the enjoyability of the show. Joel is a self-absorbed complainer, but his disagreeableness has no malice to it; it’s simply the way he is. These less desirable qualities are tempered by his sense of responsibility to his patients, and his willingness to carry on with his duties even in the face of deep depression. He’s even willing—reluctantly—to attempt native remedies when no other recourse is available. Even the most contrary characters have qualities that balance their abrasiveness. Maurice, one of the most acerbic characters, maintains a sense of loyalty and responsibility to his fellow Cicilians, even if his expression of such can be condescending, insulting, and often self-serving. To me, Maggie O’Connell is, through much of the series, one of the most disagreeable characters, simply because she has a constant habit—whether purposely or not—of baiting Joel in to arguments. She’ll get mad at him for doing or saying something wrong and expect him to know why she’s mad. Or she’ll twist his words into some unspoken accusation that feeds her own insecurities. This, of course, plays into the “will they or won’t they” sexual tension between the characters, but it gets old after a while. Still, she has her more pleasant qualities, and she can be understanding when given half a chance. By the end of the series, she’s made great progress and growth toward being a more level-headed, mature character.
Then there are the characters who are simply quirky and delightful to watch. One of my favorite relationships on the show is that between Joel and Marilyn, with his constant need to talk and her meditative silence. Joel and Ed, too, have a wonderfully understated friendship, helping each other through unexpected obstacles in unexpected ways. Chris, as the closest thing Cicely has to a clergyman, often talks Joel through problems, and Shelly often poses Joel some unusual medical problems. These rich and varied character dynamics, not only between Joel and the Ciclians, but the Cicilians to one another, as played by this diverse and talented cast, help make NoEx a thoroughly entertaining show.
The characters, stories, and writing through the first and second “seasons” (at less than 10 eps each, they can hardly be called “seasons”) are a joy to watch. The writing is tight and highly thematic, with the A-plots and B-plots connecting on a thematic level, even if the characters themselves never cross paths. The series hit its stride in season three, earning several awards and nominations within the entertainment industry. Particularly notable is “Seoul Mates,” wherein Joel Fleischman decides to display his first Christmas tree, and Maurice meets a son from his time spent in Korea during the Korean War. I highly recommend “Democracy in America” to anyone exercising his or her right to vote. We even get a “prequel” episode, “Cicely,” wherein the cast plays characters from the town’s past. And when presenting philosophies and views that I don’t agree with, these philosophies are presented in such a way as to provoke thought, thought as to why I don’t agree. Even on into season four, the show, for the most part, maintained its quality. To be certain, there were bumps and missteps along the way. Some episodes contradict character growth that Joel has undergone in earlier installments. But the good episodes are really good, and well worth the viewing.
Then comes season five. Still a quality season, with some really good episodes. And it is a season that itself seems to have an overarching theme, that theme being the circle of life. Joel and Maggie are “growing up.” They still spar, but they are much more mature about their disagreements. Joel experiences for the first time the death of a patient for whom he has cared for years. We also get to share in the experience as he brings into the world a brand new life with joy and skill. The season certainly has a different feel to it, and it’s a bit poignant, particularly at the end when Joel declares, after describing the sensation of drowning, “I’m one of you now. I’m a Cicilian.”
Had they left it at that, it would have been somewhat lacking in closure, but it would have been completely acceptable. This is, after all, Joel’s story, Joel’s journey. A declaration of “I’m one of you now,” while somewhat heart-tugging for those who want to see him return to his beloved New York, still works as a closing chapter in the story. But then we embark on season six, which grows awkward very quickly.
The season starts off okay (not brilliant or amazing; just mediocre, with the possible exception of a second “prequel” episode, which again allows the cast the opportunity to play a period piece). It begins with Joel’s realizing, with the help of a shaman’s concoction, that he’d rather practice medicine in the most remote village than in the high-pressure environment of uptown Manhattan. His and Maggie’s relationship progresses, then hits the skids, and he relocates to a remote fishing village upriver. There he becomes a quiet, philosophical, introspective character that is the complete antithesis of the Joel we’ve come to know and love. “Who are you, and what have you done with Dr. Joel?” I ask. This pod-person who inhabits Joel is a likeable enough character, but as aggravating as New York Joel could be, this takes him to the opposite extreme. Relocating Joel to a remote fishing village also does us the disservice of removing him from the dynamic of the other characters. Now, we see Joel here when various Cicilians come to visit him: Ed, Maggie, the new doctor, Dr. Capra, Marilyn. And they’re all surprised by the change in him. I could accept this as part of the character’s journey, but there appears an additional problem with this season—the writing. I could accept this move as part of the character’s journey if the writing hadn’t been so uneven. Suddenly, all the characters are one-dimensional. We do, occasionally, see glimpses of the “old” Joel, but even that is uncomfortable; watching this character struggle for inner peace, then to see the most petty traits of the “old Joel” immerge is just unpleasant to watch because it’s a very one-dimensional interpretation of a character that was once rich and multifaceted. And Joel isn’t the only character who suffers this problem. The other characters suddenly seem one-dimensional and are acting out of character, though I cannot say right now how exactly they seem OOC. I can only describe it as a feeling that the writers at this point only know a brief outline of where the characters came from and their history together. Some episodes seem to directly contradict earlier established “canon.” The actors don’t seem to be as invested in their characters, and the show suffers greatly for it. Season six hurts to watch because it’s depressing to watch a show that was once so excellent and exceptional go downhill like that.
At this point I will say that I am aware that there were contract disputes and that Rob Morrow was getting ready to leave the show. I’m sure that much of that situation affected the writing and possibly even the atmosphere on the set. This period feels very strongly of “waiting for the other shoe to drop.” The main character is merely lurking around the edges, isolated from the rest of the characters, the rest of the cast. It has the feel of that painful, anxious period of limbo when you’re waiting for a major change that will result in the loss of a friend. Once the change occurs, it’s a sad sense of relief. I don’t know exactly what was going on behind the scenes at this point in time. I only know what I see on the screen, and what I see is a lack of the magic—the focus, the quality of writing, the character dynamics—that made NX such a delight in its early years.
Thankfully, Joel Fleischman is given a good ending. Now, a “good” ending does not necessarily imply a “happy” ending. A “good” ending is one that is in keeping with the character and the story, and in that regard, the resolution to Joel’s journey is very “Northern Exposure”—fantastical, humorous, and moving, with shades of what the show once was. However, it was very unsatisfying in that Joel never returns to Cicely to bid farewell to the friends he made there, to fully appreciate the difference he made in their lives. I cried at the poignancy and the fittingness of the conclusion to Joel’s story, but at the same time I feel very dissatisfied with the lack of closure in the way things are handled.
The series continued for about half a dozen episodes after Mr. Morrow left the cast permanently. I did not realize I would feel such a loss when watching opening credits that lacked his name; I began to speed through the opening credits to avoid the sensation. Oddly enough, it is at this point that the show seems to try to get back on its feet. The new doctor and his wife are likeable enough characters—especially Michelle Capra—but it appears the writers tried to turn Phil Capra into a variation of Joel Fleischman, a big city guy who hates the remoteness and seclusion of Cicely. While Dr. Capra is an okay character, he’s no Joel Fleischman. He lacks the charisma and charm, and I’m simply not as invested in him as I was in Joel. As for the rest of the cast, they seem to regain their footing somewhat. Their depth returns, their interrelationships become far less stilted and more natural than at the beginning of the season, and wisely, they don’t forget Dr. Fleischman completely, occasionally making passing references to him in the dialogue. I can almost pretend that these episodes simply take place while Joel is off giving health classes to remote native tribes. Still, even though the show itself and the characters seem to get back into a groove, I can’t help but have Dr. Fleischman lurking in the back of my mind. “I wonder what Joel would think of this situation?” Or if a character is having medical problems, “They need to go see Dr. Joel.” How very strange to see someone else occupying Joel’s office.
I’ve little doubt that the conflict between Rob Morrow and the production powers that be contributed greatly to the unevenness of the early/mid part of season six, but I hesitate to lay the entire blame at his feet. I believe Joel’s storyline could have been handled with more finesse and insight than it was. The extreme change in the character’s behavior and the one-episode resolution to his journey—both metaphysical and actual—leaves one wanting to skip past those parts, wishing for a more satisfactory ending. And while the other characters seem to regain some of their footing after Joel leaves, still, the show at this point has lost its premise and its focus. The story, Joel’s story, has run its course. The show no longer has the trademark surreality and quirkiness that separated it from the rest of the television landscape; it’s still an enjoyable enough show, but it has changed its feel, its tone. It’s not longer the brilliantly original entertainment that it once was.
The series finale does well in tying up what loose ends are left with the series. It has a melancholy sort of feel in that it’s the end of what was once an exceptional piece of television. It even mentions and pays a certain amount of homage to Joel with the mysterious appearance of Joel’s rabbi, Rabbi Schulman, who advises Michelle on some difficulties she’s having. (This is actually a charming little subplot that harkens back to Schulman's mysterious appearances to advise Joel.) In the end, the characters are left in a comfortable place, living life in warmth and security. As the camera pulls out, showing one last panorama of the town, and the trademark moose wandering the street, I can’t help but wish that Joel could have been there. It is, all in all, a fitting and timely end to a one-time gem of television entertainment.
But I think I need to go watch the Pilot now.
How best can I describe Northern Exposure as a series? A brilliant, intelligent, tightly written, delightfully acted series that sadly lost its focus in its final season. Rarely do we get television this smart, this well-written, this insightful, witty, heartwarming, and thought-provoking. Rarer still is a series that can maintain these qualities beyond its natural life span.
NoEx is, at its core, Joel Fleischman’s story. From the beginning, it is based on the age-old premise of “stranger in a strange land.” In this case, the stranger is newly graduated New Yorker Doctor Joel Fleischman, played with skill and humor by Rob Morrow. In order to pay for medical school, Joel signed a contract with the state of Alaska whereby the state would pay for his schooling in exchange for several years of service in an assignment of its choosing. Joel arrives in Alaska believing he will be stationed in Anchorage, which he considers completely “do-able.” When he arrives at the administrative offices, however, he discovers that his servitude has been purchased by one Maurice Minnifield, business tycoon of Cicely, Alaska, the “strange land” into which Joel is introduced. To Joel’s chagrin, he discovers that Cicely is a small, remote, backwoods town lacking many—if not most—of the conveniences of a modern city. Cicely’s denizens are as quirky and un-New York as they come: Ed Chigliak, the young film student who comes and goes as he pleases; Holling Vincouer, the 60-something-year-old owner of the town tavern, who lives above his establishment with his young girlfriend, former Miss Northwest Passage Shelly Tambo; Maurice Minnifield, former NASA astronaut and “owner” of Joel’s contract; Chris Stevens, local philosopher, artist, and ex-con who DJs on Maurice’s radio station, KBHR; Maggie O’Connell, bush pilot, landlord, and Joel’s most aggressive verbal sparring partner; Marilyn Whirlwind, Joel’s taciturn self-appointed receptionist; and many others. It is these characters and this premise that lay the groundwork for NoEx’s exceptional storytelling.
Though the series is the story of Joel Fleischman, we certainly get storylines that run independently of Joel’s story. It is these storylines that develop the vast array of characters, stories that tell us how each character fits into this world, stories that make us care about these characters. Joel is the audience surrogate, through whom we see much—though not all—of the development of these characters, but often their storylines develop each of them as independent characters, contributing strongly to the over-reaching arch of Joel’s story and giving us other narratives to contemplate as well.
The rich, textured, multifaceted nature of all the characters contributes significantly to the enjoyability of the show. Joel is a self-absorbed complainer, but his disagreeableness has no malice to it; it’s simply the way he is. These less desirable qualities are tempered by his sense of responsibility to his patients, and his willingness to carry on with his duties even in the face of deep depression. He’s even willing—reluctantly—to attempt native remedies when no other recourse is available. Even the most contrary characters have qualities that balance their abrasiveness. Maurice, one of the most acerbic characters, maintains a sense of loyalty and responsibility to his fellow Cicilians, even if his expression of such can be condescending, insulting, and often self-serving. To me, Maggie O’Connell is, through much of the series, one of the most disagreeable characters, simply because she has a constant habit—whether purposely or not—of baiting Joel in to arguments. She’ll get mad at him for doing or saying something wrong and expect him to know why she’s mad. Or she’ll twist his words into some unspoken accusation that feeds her own insecurities. This, of course, plays into the “will they or won’t they” sexual tension between the characters, but it gets old after a while. Still, she has her more pleasant qualities, and she can be understanding when given half a chance. By the end of the series, she’s made great progress and growth toward being a more level-headed, mature character.
Then there are the characters who are simply quirky and delightful to watch. One of my favorite relationships on the show is that between Joel and Marilyn, with his constant need to talk and her meditative silence. Joel and Ed, too, have a wonderfully understated friendship, helping each other through unexpected obstacles in unexpected ways. Chris, as the closest thing Cicely has to a clergyman, often talks Joel through problems, and Shelly often poses Joel some unusual medical problems. These rich and varied character dynamics, not only between Joel and the Ciclians, but the Cicilians to one another, as played by this diverse and talented cast, help make NoEx a thoroughly entertaining show.
The characters, stories, and writing through the first and second “seasons” (at less than 10 eps each, they can hardly be called “seasons”) are a joy to watch. The writing is tight and highly thematic, with the A-plots and B-plots connecting on a thematic level, even if the characters themselves never cross paths. The series hit its stride in season three, earning several awards and nominations within the entertainment industry. Particularly notable is “Seoul Mates,” wherein Joel Fleischman decides to display his first Christmas tree, and Maurice meets a son from his time spent in Korea during the Korean War. I highly recommend “Democracy in America” to anyone exercising his or her right to vote. We even get a “prequel” episode, “Cicely,” wherein the cast plays characters from the town’s past. And when presenting philosophies and views that I don’t agree with, these philosophies are presented in such a way as to provoke thought, thought as to why I don’t agree. Even on into season four, the show, for the most part, maintained its quality. To be certain, there were bumps and missteps along the way. Some episodes contradict character growth that Joel has undergone in earlier installments. But the good episodes are really good, and well worth the viewing.
Then comes season five. Still a quality season, with some really good episodes. And it is a season that itself seems to have an overarching theme, that theme being the circle of life. Joel and Maggie are “growing up.” They still spar, but they are much more mature about their disagreements. Joel experiences for the first time the death of a patient for whom he has cared for years. We also get to share in the experience as he brings into the world a brand new life with joy and skill. The season certainly has a different feel to it, and it’s a bit poignant, particularly at the end when Joel declares, after describing the sensation of drowning, “I’m one of you now. I’m a Cicilian.”
Had they left it at that, it would have been somewhat lacking in closure, but it would have been completely acceptable. This is, after all, Joel’s story, Joel’s journey. A declaration of “I’m one of you now,” while somewhat heart-tugging for those who want to see him return to his beloved New York, still works as a closing chapter in the story. But then we embark on season six, which grows awkward very quickly.
The season starts off okay (not brilliant or amazing; just mediocre, with the possible exception of a second “prequel” episode, which again allows the cast the opportunity to play a period piece). It begins with Joel’s realizing, with the help of a shaman’s concoction, that he’d rather practice medicine in the most remote village than in the high-pressure environment of uptown Manhattan. His and Maggie’s relationship progresses, then hits the skids, and he relocates to a remote fishing village upriver. There he becomes a quiet, philosophical, introspective character that is the complete antithesis of the Joel we’ve come to know and love. “Who are you, and what have you done with Dr. Joel?” I ask. This pod-person who inhabits Joel is a likeable enough character, but as aggravating as New York Joel could be, this takes him to the opposite extreme. Relocating Joel to a remote fishing village also does us the disservice of removing him from the dynamic of the other characters. Now, we see Joel here when various Cicilians come to visit him: Ed, Maggie, the new doctor, Dr. Capra, Marilyn. And they’re all surprised by the change in him. I could accept this as part of the character’s journey, but there appears an additional problem with this season—the writing. I could accept this move as part of the character’s journey if the writing hadn’t been so uneven. Suddenly, all the characters are one-dimensional. We do, occasionally, see glimpses of the “old” Joel, but even that is uncomfortable; watching this character struggle for inner peace, then to see the most petty traits of the “old Joel” immerge is just unpleasant to watch because it’s a very one-dimensional interpretation of a character that was once rich and multifaceted. And Joel isn’t the only character who suffers this problem. The other characters suddenly seem one-dimensional and are acting out of character, though I cannot say right now how exactly they seem OOC. I can only describe it as a feeling that the writers at this point only know a brief outline of where the characters came from and their history together. Some episodes seem to directly contradict earlier established “canon.” The actors don’t seem to be as invested in their characters, and the show suffers greatly for it. Season six hurts to watch because it’s depressing to watch a show that was once so excellent and exceptional go downhill like that.
At this point I will say that I am aware that there were contract disputes and that Rob Morrow was getting ready to leave the show. I’m sure that much of that situation affected the writing and possibly even the atmosphere on the set. This period feels very strongly of “waiting for the other shoe to drop.” The main character is merely lurking around the edges, isolated from the rest of the characters, the rest of the cast. It has the feel of that painful, anxious period of limbo when you’re waiting for a major change that will result in the loss of a friend. Once the change occurs, it’s a sad sense of relief. I don’t know exactly what was going on behind the scenes at this point in time. I only know what I see on the screen, and what I see is a lack of the magic—the focus, the quality of writing, the character dynamics—that made NX such a delight in its early years.
Thankfully, Joel Fleischman is given a good ending. Now, a “good” ending does not necessarily imply a “happy” ending. A “good” ending is one that is in keeping with the character and the story, and in that regard, the resolution to Joel’s journey is very “Northern Exposure”—fantastical, humorous, and moving, with shades of what the show once was. However, it was very unsatisfying in that Joel never returns to Cicely to bid farewell to the friends he made there, to fully appreciate the difference he made in their lives. I cried at the poignancy and the fittingness of the conclusion to Joel’s story, but at the same time I feel very dissatisfied with the lack of closure in the way things are handled.
The series continued for about half a dozen episodes after Mr. Morrow left the cast permanently. I did not realize I would feel such a loss when watching opening credits that lacked his name; I began to speed through the opening credits to avoid the sensation. Oddly enough, it is at this point that the show seems to try to get back on its feet. The new doctor and his wife are likeable enough characters—especially Michelle Capra—but it appears the writers tried to turn Phil Capra into a variation of Joel Fleischman, a big city guy who hates the remoteness and seclusion of Cicely. While Dr. Capra is an okay character, he’s no Joel Fleischman. He lacks the charisma and charm, and I’m simply not as invested in him as I was in Joel. As for the rest of the cast, they seem to regain their footing somewhat. Their depth returns, their interrelationships become far less stilted and more natural than at the beginning of the season, and wisely, they don’t forget Dr. Fleischman completely, occasionally making passing references to him in the dialogue. I can almost pretend that these episodes simply take place while Joel is off giving health classes to remote native tribes. Still, even though the show itself and the characters seem to get back into a groove, I can’t help but have Dr. Fleischman lurking in the back of my mind. “I wonder what Joel would think of this situation?” Or if a character is having medical problems, “They need to go see Dr. Joel.” How very strange to see someone else occupying Joel’s office.
I’ve little doubt that the conflict between Rob Morrow and the production powers that be contributed greatly to the unevenness of the early/mid part of season six, but I hesitate to lay the entire blame at his feet. I believe Joel’s storyline could have been handled with more finesse and insight than it was. The extreme change in the character’s behavior and the one-episode resolution to his journey—both metaphysical and actual—leaves one wanting to skip past those parts, wishing for a more satisfactory ending. And while the other characters seem to regain some of their footing after Joel leaves, still, the show at this point has lost its premise and its focus. The story, Joel’s story, has run its course. The show no longer has the trademark surreality and quirkiness that separated it from the rest of the television landscape; it’s still an enjoyable enough show, but it has changed its feel, its tone. It’s not longer the brilliantly original entertainment that it once was.
The series finale does well in tying up what loose ends are left with the series. It has a melancholy sort of feel in that it’s the end of what was once an exceptional piece of television. It even mentions and pays a certain amount of homage to Joel with the mysterious appearance of Joel’s rabbi, Rabbi Schulman, who advises Michelle on some difficulties she’s having. (This is actually a charming little subplot that harkens back to Schulman's mysterious appearances to advise Joel.) In the end, the characters are left in a comfortable place, living life in warmth and security. As the camera pulls out, showing one last panorama of the town, and the trademark moose wandering the street, I can’t help but wish that Joel could have been there. It is, all in all, a fitting and timely end to a one-time gem of television entertainment.
But I think I need to go watch the Pilot now.
