The success of HBO’s True Blood is a phenomenon resulting from a variety of factors. Creators and cast members deserve some credit; the show has benefitted from defining itself as an over-the-top, campy and often hilarious take on the vampire craze.
Even so, it would be foolish to pretend that the show has not ridden the wave of sexy bloodsuckers that has swept the country.
In its third season, True Blood has reached perhaps its most defining moment. Can the show outlast the vampire fad and maintain a fan base of its own? Will writers continue to find that winning combination of sex, violence and utter implausibility?
The answer, it seems, is yes and no. This season has emulated a typical business cycle, vacillating from periods of boom — when vampires and werewolves plus sensuous Louisiana equal titillating TV — and bust — when cheesy writing and lackluster acting cannot support an already ridiculous premise.
The first few episodes began at a crawl. The first episode, “Bad Blood,” served little purpose than to reacquaint fans with the happenings of Bon Temps, Louisiana. Sam (Sam Trammell) and Tara (Rutina Wesley) are typically troubled; Jason (Ryan Kwanten) fumbles his way through the show’s 60 minutes.
Indeed, the momentum started by last season’s finale — when Bill (Stephen Moyer) is kidnapped by a group of unnamed assailants — is lost through this episode’s inability to spur interest in the plot.
The only interesting moment occurs when Sookie (Anna Paquin) and Eric (Alexander Skarsgård) face off, resulting in sexual tension — and the only believable aspect of the show.
For a time, the season dredges on at a similar pace. Bill appears to betray Sookie and a powerful, ancient vampire named Russell Edgington (the hilarious Denis O’Hare) reveals himself as a werewolf taskmaster, bidding these primal creatures to do his bidding.
A few gems appear in the early stages of the season; Joe Manganiello’s Alcide Herveaux, a good-hearted werewolf who looks out for Sookie, provides more chemistry than Bill Compton ever could. O’Hare, too, chews the scenery and makes the most of his time on screen.
The turning point occurs at the end of episode four. As Bill — who has left Sookie for his ex and “maker,” Lorena (Mariana Klaveno) — devours a hopeless victim in a limo, the camera pans out and shows blood pouring from the door.
Damien Rice’s “9 Crimes,” also the name of the episode, plays in the background, and the episode’s suddenly somber tone correctly captures Bill’s regret and shame. For the first time in the season, True Blood captured — albeit briefly — emotional depth.
The following episodes are, in contrast to the opening few, fantastic. Eric learns the truth of his family’s fate. Chemistry between Alcide and Sookie simmers, and Tara has a juicy encounter with vampire-for-hire Frantklin Mott (James Frain). Bill and Sookie go through not-so-typical relationship woes, and Lafayette (Nelsan Ellis) finds a love interest in his mentally unstable mother’s nurse, Jesus Velasquez (Kevin Alejandro). The ridiculousness, ingenious writing and sexual elements that made the show famous are in full force.
Easily the best moment of the season arrives at the climax of episode 9, “Everything is Broken.” Without revealing too much, O’Hare’s Russell takes to the main stage and brings the vampire-human peace movement to a startling halt.
It is a moment of campy, utter hilarity, a throwback to the days when vampires donned black attire and overacted their way into the hearts of millions of fans. Russell embodies everything that works for the show, and at once the entire arc of the season is more than worth it.
Unfortunately, the momentum again comes to a halt. With only the season finale to go, HBO’s sexiest series seems dead set on pursuing utterly uninteresting subplots and ignoring what makes the show so addicting.
Indeed, Russell has had very limited face time in the past few episodes, and Alcide hasn’t been seen in weeks.
It remains to be seen whether the season finale will be one that defines the show as a lasting presence on cable television, or the first sign of the end.
If the past few years have taught us anything, it’s that vampires are polarizing creatures. Twilight has thrown hormone-filled teenagers into camps Edward and Jacob, ruining friendships and alienating a nation of wanna-be-Bellas.
In a broader sense, the rift between those who dig bloodsuckers and those who think they just suck has grown swiftly since Dracula traded in his cape for skinny jeans and hair gel.
Nevertheless, fans across the country and, indeed, the world have become smitten with True Blood’s southern world of decadence, the arena of mystique and raw sex that exists in Bon Temps.
Hopefully this Sunday’s season finale will serve as an example for why the show is worth watching.
And if not, who cares? They’re still hot.
