‘THE CHARACTERS ARE NEITHER LIBERATED NOR OPPRESSED BY SELLING THEMSELVES.’—NEXT PAGE
TELEVISION
Porn,
prostitutes
and heart
on HBO’s
The Deuce
By Daniel D’Addario
New York the hard way: Pernell Walker, James Franco and Maggie Gyllenhaal in The Deuce
PRESTIGE TELEVISION IS, IN THE
main, notable for its seriousness of pur-
pose and for its grimness. But what’s
most exciting about HBO’s new drama
The Deuce may well be its lightness.
Which isn’t to say the series isn’t
ambitious. The show is set in early-
1970s Times Square and assays the
lives and livelihoods of bartenders,
prostitutes, pimps and cops at a time
when the concept of propriety had long
since fallen away. Given that setup,
The Deucewould have to get a lot of
things right in order to avoid cliché and
keep viewers interested. And it does.
David Simon and George Pelecanos,
frequent collaborators who worked
together on HBO’sThe Wire and
Treme, have conjured up an immersive
world that’s credible because it doesn’t
feel like pure history. Characters on
The Deuce speak with a brisk frankness
that’s often absent elsewhere on TV;
that makes it seem like real life.
The story begins with a pair of
twins, both played by James Franco:
Vincent is “good,” and Frankie is
“bad.” This would be facile if it weren’t
for the fact that the good twin isn’t all
that good. Vincent ditches his wife in
order to immerse himself in making
his business a success. Meanwhile,
Frankie, a gambler, gets tangled up
with the mob but also seems equipped
to deal with it, fluent in the language
of intimidation. (If Franco’s twins are
referenced by the show’s title, it’s only
a secondary meaning; “the Deuce”
is local argot for the seedy stretch of
West 42nd Street.)
Franco’s celebrity can distract from
his talent. But his double performance
PAUL SCHIRALDI—HBO