This review contains spoilers, click expand to view.
Two pimps sit at the Port Authority and pontificate about politics and prostitutes. No, this isn’t the opening line of a bad joke; it’s actually the opening sequence of HBO’s new series The Deuce. We are escorted into this world (pun intended) via the prolific ramblings of a savvy pimp who relates the state of affairs (Nixon era) to the pimping game. Nixon is a pimp, and the nuclear shenanigans of the times…merely Nixon keeping his pimp hand strong. While others may have found this exchange to be profound, dare I say an example of writing at its absolute finest I found it to be absurd and unrealistic. Am I saying that no pimp in the history of pimping could have been up on current affairs – a poised political analyst ready to work the desk at NBC if the whole pandering of female flesh didn’t pan out? Absolutely not, but I am saying that introducing me into this menacing, underbelly of society in such fashion makes me question the authenticity of what I’m about to partake. Am I getting a factually relevant, accurate portrayal of the times? Or an artistic re imagining through the lens of someone who can’t relate to the material they’re presenting? This isn’t a rhetorical question I really asked myself this. And I got my answer later on in the episode when a prostitute compared leasing her body for monetary compensation, to a car salesman selling cars. The common thread you ask? They both are simply doing their jobs. So, a John who ejaculates prematurely is not entitled to another "go" simply because she (the prostitute) didn’t have to work hard. The John paid for a service and he got it. Just as a salesman who sells a car effortlessly, displays the same professionalism as if he had to haggle…pull out every shady sales tactic known to man. How you arrive at your goal is of no consequence, the point is you got there. This took me out of the episode. No, this moment was not real. It was not genuine. It was a plot point, a beat, and a writer showing off. A writer saying, “Hey, the training wheels are off…I’m a big boy. Look what I can do.” But yet again I digress, maybe there is a woman of the night out there somewhere, in a piss-infested (rent by the hour) room delivering eloquent soliloquies in the mirror. All while a preemie sits sheepishly on the bed with both a deflated penis and ego. Maybe there are prostitutes who are lovers of the arts. Who regularly get paid to watch classic films, converse, and dine with their tricks rather than perform sexual acts. This too could happen. Heck, Richard Gere plucked Julia Roberts right off the streets and gave her free range of his finances…anything can happen (side eye). Real. Game of Thrones made me believe in dragons and turn a blind eye to incest. I actually believe The Rock played in the NFL, gets black out drunk and does huge lines of cocaine after watching Ballers. My dog didn’t come charging towards the front door when I arrived home one day and I swore he had departed like The Leftovers. The list goes on and on. Before Boardwalk Empire, before The Wire all the way back to The Corner in 2000. Now The Corner ladies and gentleman...that is real. An Earthy, visceral portrayal of life that feels, smells, and taste genuine. Three-dimensional characters in situations so engaging, you think you’re watching a documentary. No reaches, just raw realness.
Is The Deuce worth watching? Sure, why not. I didn’t fast-forward to the end like I’ve done recently with other shows. I can’t say that I "hate" any of the characters nor the story thus far. It simply does not ring true. Yes, I understand I am the audience. And the goal is to keep me engaged, to entertain, not inform. But please don’t play with my emotions and intelligence by doing things for Emmy consideration and shock value. Just don’t. Remember it's not just TV it's HBO.… Expand