Dignity and Frank Semyon — A True Detective S2 Review

“There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.”

― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

It was early on that I wrote off the second season of True Detective, and for the most part, I maintain my feeling that the season was self-flagellating with poorly written dialogue, bad storytelling masked as “mystery” or “noir”, and acting that didn’t live up to the combine talents of those involved. Nevertheless, and despite my own misgivings as well others’ opinions that I respected, I pushed forward. What was it that kept me engaged each week? Was I hate-watching this? Was the viewing experience itself my own exercise in masochism, deliberately tying myself to the tracks, waiting for this disastrous train to plow over me?

Whatever the reason, I continued watching without consequence and took in the season finale, partially thankful that it was finally over and then surprised by how much I liked it. Looking back, alright, that was a first for the season. The “shootout” episode was ok, Woodrough’s being killed was tragic but needed for the story, Ana was always annoying, and Ray and Frank were the more interesting characters, even though their storylines were sometimes flimsy at best. I went to bed that night like I normally do.

And then something happened.

I woke up in the middle of the night.

I was haunted.

I couldn’t get back to sleep.

And my mind went back to the season finale. In particular, all I saw was Frank Semyon, limping through the desert like a wounded lion, still determined, still maintaining the strength to push on.

And it wasn’t even so much for Jordan and the plan to hightail it to Venezuela that he was pushing on for, but himself. It’s a drive to move forward, in spite of everything, even with a fatal gut wound. I realized that what Frank was fighting for, and had always fought for, was maintaining his dignity, the last remaining virtue he had when everything else was out of his control.

If you think back to Frank’s storyline in the season, all of the long, ponderous monologues and reflections, you realize that Frank’s ultimate fate was his ultimate fear: being stripped of his dignity. I mean, he died for it. The cartel member wasn’t just taking Frank’s suit because he thought it looked nice, he wanted to strip him of what made Frank who he was.

But it’s exactly what Frank was fighting against-people taking advantage of him, ridiculing him, not treating him as a legitimate business man or forcing him out of business -that stripped him of his dignity. In a “choose your own adventure” game of dignity, Frank was screwed. He had no options, and he saw that.

To go out swinging was a better option than to end up in your underwear in the middle of the desert with nowhere to go. In the end, there’s no better option.

There is no dignity, bleeding out and penniless (except for those diamonds), in the middle of the desert when all you had to do was give up your suit.

It’s that stubbornness of Frank’s that haunted me. That had me hitting rewind, and replaying his death walk in the desert.

Granted, it had some pretty laughable dialogue, and the hallucinations were cheesy, but it still didn’t take away how effective the scene was to me. And it all came down to dignity, a virtue that is relatable to literally everyone.

It made me think of people like the Kardashians, TMZ vultures, and the stupidity of the viral phenomenon where people will do almost anything to get their 15 seconds of fame. Where IS the dignity? And how important do people consider their own character and self-worth? If what we take in on social media and the news is any indicator, people don’t consider this at all.

Say what you want about Frank Semyon, but he had character. He had dignity (until he didn’t); he had self-worth even if we didn’t believe it sometimes. He was a guy who came from nothing and built himself into the head of a criminal organization.

That takes something a lot of us possess: ambition, drive, character and the dignity to not exploit or prostitute yourself based on your own code of ethics.

And when he tried to go legit (come on Hollywood, this is way too old of a storyline, it rarely works out), that’s when the cards came crashing down. It was a blow to everything he believed in that the business he craved to be a part of chewed him up, took his money, and spit him out.

Thanks for the 5 mil.

And in a very Godfather III way (a reference nobody should make), he had to go back to the business that he was trying to get away from.

And he had to literally fight his way through all over again to earn respect.

I rooted for Frank’s demise.

I wanted it to be ugly, violent.

The comeuppance for everything he had done from taking his old club back, forcing himself into a drug operation in an apartment for a percentage, contemplating using Jordan to get in the club business with a skeevy money guy she used to date, being a dick to Velcoro, and generally just being an unlikable person; I couldn’t wait to see this guy get his.

Crazy gun fight?

Sure!

Domestic fight that turns into Jordan killing Frank?

Sounds good!

I just didn’t expect this show that I felt mostly negative towards to affect me in such a way.

The Season 1 finale got a lot of flack online for Rust (and the show), more or less, going out on a spiritual high note. If Nic Pizzolato’s whole point was to end on a dour note, he did. Arguably, he did it poorly (I really didn’t care for the cheesiness of Velcoro’s demise, and yes, I know his father predicted it while Ray was out), but Frank’s arc made the most sense in terms of character and where that character had to end up, and it left a lasting impact on me and a few of the other people I talked to about the finale.

Kill a man like that in cold blood is part of the game.

But to strip a man of his dignity, that will haunt him on his death walk into eternity.