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“The Slap’s” premiere slightly edged out “Rosemary’s Baby” in terms of viewership and critical acclaim, but reception in both areas remains tepid when considered in a broader context. It’s not a critical darling or awards player like “Olive Kitteridge,” nor is it even close to being a commercial hit. Rather, “The Slap” is hovering awkwardly, and sort of lifelessly, in the middle: it’s a firm example of broadcast’s failure to imitate cable.
“[It’s] provocative, all right,” began James Poniewozik’s review for Time Magazine. “But it’s as subtle as a smack across the chops.” He’s not wrong. The way Baitz frames Hector’s midlife crisis, or Harry’s entitlement, or Rosie’s hands-off parenting style is all so stiff and obvious that even actors as talented as the ones here fail to extend beyond the archetypes drawn out for them. Who is to blame, exactly — either Baitz, NBC or some combination of the two — remains to be seen, but there is one blameless actor: the original miniseries.
A huge creative change comes in episode two, as Baitz decides to double-down on the rigid conflict he’s laid out by pushing ahead the episode that is told from Harry’s point-of-view. Originally, the subsequent episode examines Anouk (the brilliant Essie Davis of “The Babadook” in the original; Thurman in NBC’s), a close friend of Aisha and Rosie’s who works as a television writer. Here, the Australian “Slap” aggressively changes gears, with mentions of the pilot’s events only sporadic. It’s a beautifully-executed character study, digging deep into an ordinary person’s life as she juggles a demanding job, a much-younger boyfriend and a sick mother in need of her care. Not only does it substantially expand the scope and reach of “The Slap,” but it casts Rosie in a completely different light as she looks after Anouk’s mother and confides in her friends and family.
NBC’s adaptation may faithfully redo this episode later on, but it barely even matters. Their second episode only makes the lawsuit more of a focal point, pitting the “one-percenter” Harry against the hippie-ish Rosie and Gary with more force and (even) less subtlety. It casts both of them in an irredeemably unsympathetic light, with Harry monstrous on one end and Rosie cartoonish on the other.
But it’s also a pervasive problem with broadcast network drama. There’s a lack of trust in ambiguity, and a forcefulness in the conveyance of ideas. Recently, Fox failed to deliver on its remake of the hit British series “Broadchurch,” while CBS failed on all counts with “Hostages,” a limited-run political thriller starring Toni Collette. These shows, and so many others like them, are injected with traits of a cable drama – esteemed cast/crew, limited run of episodes, potent thematic premise – but ultimately flail under the broadcast model where edges are softened. The hour-long programs succeeding creatively on networks right now are subverting genres that have long been associated with broadcast: the night-time soap (“Empire”), the legal procedural (“The Good Wife”), the young adult drama (“Jane the Virgin”).
READ MORE: Your TV Is A Lot More International Than You Think (And That’s A Good Thing)
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