#2 - Rectify
Aired 2013-2016 (4 seasons) on Sundance
Created by Ray McKinnon
Currently streaming on Netflix
For a brief introduction to this countdown, click here.
#2 is the soul of a best-of list. #1 has to represent some sort of unimpeachable standard of "best," and the rest of the list needs to have enough agreed-upon quality to demonstrate that the author isn't full of it. But #2 is beholden to no such master, and says more about the process behind the list than any other entry. So what does this placement say about Rectify? It's certainly the show I've evangelized for more than any other (see here and here), largely because of both its straightforwardness and its relatively low profile. But more than anything else, I love Rectify because it might be the least judgmental series in the history of the medium. Its concordant love for and examination of its characters is second to none, and that's why I'm writing about it right now.
If you think I'm exaggerating, just watch the first half of the pilot to be instantly relieved of your doubts. Everything the show wants to do is set in motion in one of the most purposefully clear (if not best) pilots in recent memory. The series begins the moment Daniel Holden is released from prison after serving nearly two decades on death row for the murder of his high school girlfriend. We are quickly made aware of the fundamental uncertainty of the situation; while the conviction is overturned through DNA evidence, Daniel is far from being fully exonerated. We immediately see the variety of perspectives this engenders in the show's characters. Daniel's family is mixed: His sister Amantha (played by Abigail Spencer) is thrilled to have him back, his mother (J. Smith-Cameron of Succession fame) isn't sure how to feel, and his half-brother Teddy (Clayne Crawford) is barely able to contain his hostility towards the man he had effectively replaced. On the other side, the man who prosecuted the original case (now a state senator) has no doubt as to Daniel's guilt and gives a fiery speech indicating his desire to convict him again. As for Daniel himself, Aden Young's performance places him on a different plane of existence altogether. Rather than being concerned with the facts of the case, he is focused on the very nature of existence itself and how to begin living this very new life.
But even with all this going on, I've left out the key part. In what I would argue is the creative decision that makes Rectify what it is, Daniel has no recollection of what happened the night of the murder. Because of this second, more existential layer of uncertainty, the show is not simply a story of a man trying to make amends, nor is it the tale of someone wronged by the system. Instead it somehow becomes both of these things at once, which enables Rectify to tell a rich story largely unencumbered by traditional narratives.
This works in a couple different ways. First, this neutral portrayal of Daniel helps the viewer to accept him as he is without judgment. Our uncertainty about his guilt obviously drives this, but the show goes further than that. After setting the stage in the pilot, the focus on the legal side of things is minimized, leaving us much more time to contemplate Daniel's new lease on life. It frames a lot of the action through Daniel's relatively naive eyes, which helps us to take things at face value. And it becomes almost immediately clear that Daniel will always be harder on himself than anyone else could ever be. All of this taken together serves to break down the typical way we react to what we watch, opening us up to something relatively novel. In this way, Rectify contains within itself an almost unique language of television, one that's critical to understanding the show.
But just as important is how this uncertainty shapes our understanding of everyone else in the show. A more traditional narrative would center Daniel and play everyone off of him to some degree. This doesn't mean that the other characters would necessarily be one-dimensional, but it would rob them of some degree of both agency and dignity. In Rectify though, we're all in the same boat, viewer and character alike. Everyone is fundamentally uncertain - about Daniel's guilt, where he fits in their life, and how to move forward from this point. As a result, the viewer has the rare privilege of not only being able to, but being encouraged to consider each character's perspective. There is no burden of judgment thrust upon you, only the quiet satisfaction of human understanding.
Finally, all this uncertainty highlights a central thematic question: Was there a point to all of this? Daniel served twenty years on death row, but was anything accomplished as a result? The show never answers these questions explicitly, but the events depicted point towards a resounding "no" on both counts. Post-prison Daniel is a husk of a man who needs the whole length of the series to find something resembling self-acceptance. Bobby Dean (the brother of the victim) is miserable, and his quest for revenge on Daniel (he beats him to a pulp next to her grave) leaves him without any resolution. Most members of the Holden clan come to separate realizations that the lives they built to cope with Daniel's absence are now wholly inadequate moving forward. And even the series' most loathsome character (the prosecutor) is left wanting when he suffers a stroke that renders him powerless as he watches the most notable conviction of his career melt away. All of this speaks to the series' utter lack of use for vengeance and old-fashioned methods of justice, but it's best summed up by Daniel's justification for refusing to press charges against Bobby for the beating: "To what end?"
My personal reading of all this is that Rectify makes a compelling case for ending our vengeance-based justice system as we know it. Still, I would not consider Rectify a piece of abolitionist art. For all its moral clarity, it's a fundamentally small and personal narrative without a clearly defined political voice. What this smaller focus does do is start to pick away at the underlying assumptions about prison that are pervasive in American media. To describe this phenomenon better than I can, here is the esteemed Angela Davis in her 2003 book Are Prisons Obsolete?:
"But even those who do not consciously decide to watch a documentary or dramatic program on the topic of prisons inevitably consume prison images, whether they choose to or not, by the simple fact of watching movies or TV. It is virtually impossible to avoid consuming images of prison. In 1997, I was myself quite astonished to find, when I interviewed women in three Cuban prisons, that most of them narrated their prior awareness of prisons-that is, before they were actually incarcerated-as coming from the many Hollywood films they had seen. The prison is one of the most important features of our image environment. This has caused us to take the existence of prisons for granted. The prison has become a key ingredient of our common sense. It is there, all around us. We do not question whether it should exist. It has become so much a part of our lives that it requires a great feat of the imagination to envision life beyond the prison."
That last sentence is the most relevant here because it describes Daniel's predicament almost perfectly. The prison life he describes in the pilot ("a way of living and thinking...or not thinking" and "optimism severed no useful purpose in the world where I existed.") is all-consuming to the point that he literally can't imagine life without it. When he visits the beach with his mother at the end of season three, he immediately imagines himself back there. Almost every flashback takes us back to his white cinder block cell. Four whole seasons of focused deprogramming pass before he gets to the point where he can earnestly imagine himself liberated from this burden. And the series makes it clear that he was profoundly lucky to even get this chance. Rectify doesn't proclaim that there are any easy solutions for what ails our justice system, but it does take great care to show this one specific path through. This optimism that allows us to even consider a different way sets the show ahead of almost everything else in this regard.
This nod towards the concept of transformative justice is mirrored and further illuminated through individual characters' transformations. With the new reality of Daniel's freedom comes the realization that every "supporting" character has to find a new path forward. These stories are all essential, but the most compelling ones belong to Ted Jr. and Amantha.* Prior to Daniel's release both characters' self-image were defined in his shadow. Amantha had been devoting her life to clearing her brother's name - his release leaves her unclear on how to proceed, both professionally and personally. Ted had spent his life trying to be the "good" son to Daniel's prodigal son, and predictably suffers when the prodigal son returns. At various points in the show, both characters find themselves separated from the careers, partners, and the identities they had worked to cultivate. The primary (only?) way they're able to work through this and emerge out the other side in better shape than where they started is because of the support of their family. And the family itself is only able to function because it has been made whole again.
*Not coincidentally played by the show's two best actors. And if you don't believe me, Spencer and Crawford both landed broadcast network lead roles immediately after Rectify.
In the end, all of this comes back to Daniel. The culmination of his journey that I've been hinting at is the show's most radical accomplishment. Rectify's ending is"happy" in the traditional sense, but it's atypical in every other way. The final shots consist of Daniel laying in his bed and imagining himself in a sunlit field, embracing a woman and her daughter. The woman is Chloe, the eccentric artist he had a brief relationship with in the final season before she left town to raise her child with family. That they're not actually together is laughably beside the point, because such a standard conception of closure does not matter to the story Rectify is telling. Daniel's journey has always been about transforming from the shell of a man we meet in the beginning into something resembling a functional human being. And throughout the series, it's made clear that what Rectify considers the most essential human trait is not anything in the material world. Rather it's the fundamental decision to live your life as a beacon of goodness towards others. In that moment, we see for the first time that Daniel is finally ready to do that. He can imagine himself not only outside of prison, but in a place where his true nature can be shared with others. It's simply a most meaningful and special ending to one of the best shows ever on the small screen.
