In the Dark
One of the ways I know that my interest in something has crossed into casual obsession territory is when I can't stop thinking about some small detail. It could be a special line or a motif, could be something in the color palette, but it's the fixation on things that maybe don't really matter that tells me I am absolutely hooked.
With "In the Dark", the hook was the way one character touches another. It's probably not a surprising hook given my interest in physical intimacy on television, but it's the kind of minutiae that I doubt other people think about continually.
The premise of "In the Dark" is that Murphy Mason, a hard-drinking, blind twenty-something sets out to solve the murder of one of her best friends when the police don't take the case seriously. My first impression was that the show sounded like some kind of bizarre TV bingo card. Broken woman plus extrajudicial crime solving plus... blindness? But it all works together somehow.
Murphy is selfish and self involved, regularly manipulative and often mean. She uses her blindness to shirk responsibility and get what she wants whenever she can (like pretending she doesn't realize there's a line at the drug store and walking straight up to the counter), but she resents and resists people trying to help her. And, like many broken women before her, she has a habit of getting drunk and sleeping with shitty men.
On the whole, I'm pretty tapped out on damaged women fucking men whose names they don't bother to learn (a common trope of the anti-hero era) but it doesn't really bother me on "In The Dark" -- maybe because it feels well integrated into Murphy's identity as someone always searching for instant gratification. She'll take any shortcut and sleeping with shitty men is just another way to do that. Murphy isn't interested in intimacy, she's interested in getting off.
For all those reasons, Murphy doesn't have a lot of people in her life. But her obsession with solving the murder of one of her only friends turns her into a pinball frantically colliding with new people-- many of whom she needs to help her.
One of the people Murphy gets thrown against in her haphazard investigation is Max Parish, a (hot, but not a jerk) guy who is genuinely interested in her. That the two of them will get involved is obvious because Murphy resists Max's charms from the second they're onscreen together. They really only start dating because he wears down her resistance (it's problematic in principal but charming in context).
While Max is way less prickly than Murphy, there's definitely overlap in how they interface with people. It's easy and gratifying for them to sleep with someone, it's much harder to be trusting and open. The two of them have a real learning curve for how to be together, which often gets externalized through Murphy's blindness. It's not that her lack of sight is a metaphor (not the vibe), it's that it's a reality of her life. She lives with it everyday, and so does anyone that wants to get close to her. For Max, that's a new set of skills.
In episode four, Max cooks dinner for Murphy and her roommate, Jess. During dinner, Murphy starts feeling around the table trying to find her water glass.
"Your water's right here," Max says, lifting up her cup. Jess quickly cuts in: "Max, 'here' doesn't mean anything." She taps her hand against the glass and Murphy turns to the sound, taking the cup from her.
The moment makes for a bit of a standoff between Max and Jess. Because they've known each other since they were teenagers, Jess and Murphy have all the codewords and shortcuts that any longterm friendship has, plus routines built around Murphy's lack of sight. In most cases, Jess is the only one Murphy will let help with anything. There's nothing sexual about the relationship between Jess and Murphy, but it's the most intimate relationship either of them has. Max is trying to build a similar intimacy, but it's not easy for him or Murphy.
There's a trick he finds though, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since I noticed. Before kissing Murphy, Max always touches her face. Sometimes it's a soft brush of her cheek, sometimes it's holding her between his hands, or roughly pulling her toward him, but there's always that brief point of contact.
The face touch serves a practical purpose -- Murphy can't see when Max is about to kiss her. Where a sighted person would have the opportunity to lean back or turn away, there's no physical way for Murphy to signal she doesn't want to be kissed if she doesn't know it's about to happen. The face touch gives her a warning, gives her an out. Max is giving her a signal. It's his version of tapping on the water glass.
But the gesture isn't just pragmatic, it's also tender. They struggle with how to be together in an emotional sense but they manage to figure out being together in a very practical sense. There's something about that physicality that is emotional. It's the smallest thing, but it says so much about the two of them.
Murphy sleeps with other people over the course of the show but she never finds the same easiness that she does with Max, never develops the physical language and trust that the two of them have. He gives her that signal and she's never once surprised by the contact. They can't have a productive conversation half the time, but they find ways to communicate how they feel and what they want.
I like the hairpin turns that "In the Dark" takes, love the out-of-their-depth band of misfits the show amasses, but the face touch really is the thing I can't let go of. There's something in that repeated gesture, in the meaning it makes. Like even messed up people can learn a way to be together, can create a language even if they don't have the words.
"In the Dark" is currently in it's 3rd season on the CW. You can watch the first two seasons on Netflix.
The Vibe
Desire by Liza Anne
ICYMI
Billie Eilish released her second album, Happier Than Ever, at the end of July. I've had it on near constant repeat.
I'm on a lady-spy kick. If you have recommendations, send them my way!