Lessons Learned From Episode One of Vinyl

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In an age where books need not an entire library but a single rectangular screen to call home. Where documentaries inform audiences primarily of the whereabouts of Kardashian members, and where the Internet is less concerned with fulfilling its predecessor, the newspaper, and more concerned with celebrating self-made performers in nine-second-a-pop “films”, it’s rare to stumble upon a media source offering real and memorable information. And yet, NEON’s* latest addition, the HBO original series Vinyl which premiered on February 15, offered us some real-life education. Here is what we learned from the 2-hour long premiere.

Why We Love Protagonists We Hate

Martin Scorsese is well-versed in sculpting leading men with some serious issues. From De Niro as loose-cannon gambler, Johnny Boy, in Mean Streets, and the rage-fuelled Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver, to a troubled DiCaprio as Teddy Daniels in Shutter Island and as tyrannous Jordan Belfort in Wolf of Wall Street. Scorsese’s got a line up of criminals and troublemakers under his belt, but for some reason we remember the characters fondly, and the question becomes that age old relationship musing, why do we love it when the nice guy finishes last? Scorsese’s near-feature length premiere of Vinyl is no exception. We’re invited to visit New York in the 70s, a world of black comedy and corrupt businessmen, existential horror and drug addictions at every turn, by a troubled Richie Finestra who addresses us through voiceover, “So this is my story, clouded by lost brain cells, self aggrandizement and maybe a little bullshit, but how could it not be in this fucking life?” It’s a new setting but the outcome of our relationship with Bobby Cannavale’s Finestra is already determined cheers to Scorsese’s score of leading men. He’s self-loathing, utterly corrupt and a bit of an arsehole, but he’s talented and he’s passionate and we know we’re boarding the Vinyl train well and truly hand-in-hand with the drug-riddled, disloyal, immoral record label owner. How do we know the depth of this audience-protag relationship from a mere pilot episode? In the same way we rooted for Jordan Belfort to win at Wall Street, we love an antihero because it makes our own wrongdoings less so and validates our sins. Or, on a lighter note, maybe it comes down to nothing more than Cannavale’s flawless performance.

Scorsese Knows His 70s

It’s a bit of a picture-perfect full circle for Scorsese’s career which we witness upon watching Vinyl’s pilot. The director ensures we get the irony. The camera tracks through New York streets, dirty alleyways and graffiti heavy subways, we pan through offices bleeding with 70s décor, and the score drops nostalgic sounds generously, shifting the mood, aiding the story, segueing us through memories and sometimes providing an ironic argument to the action on screen. All of those elements can be traced to Scorsese’s Mean Streets released in 1973, the very year in which Vinyl claims to be set. The ’73 film is renowned for its liberal use of pop music as a tool to both express character emotion and act as an organic backing track to Johnny Boy’s New York. Only in Mean Streets the cinematic atmosphere required no manipulation to exude that 70s feel, whereas Vinyl’s rendition of the same era is perhaps even more convincing than its genuine counterpart. The use of vibrant colour, bold lighting, rapid editing and a sometimes excessive soundtrack combine to portray a persuasive 70-something year, although this time it was unashamedly built using a serious budget.

An Inevitable Emmy Nomination 

You’ve probably stumbled across Bobby Cannavale at some point. I was first graced with his screen presence in 2006 when Cannavale was Vince D’Angelo on Will & Grace. More recently, and more notably, he was Gyp Rosetti in Boardwalk Empire, where his talent was properly recognised for the first time. He was in Marvel’s Ant Man and Woody Allen’s Blue Jasmine and Chef. And now he is about to win a well-deserved Emmy for his part as American Century record label owner, Richie Finestra.

Television Thrives on Testosterone 

Here’s a thing. Vinyl is good. It’s convincing and it’s nostalgic and it plays right into the hands of us lot who seem to be in constant craving for more romantic times past. We’re presented with a 70s setting that has us enthralled the same way Mad Men had us coveting the 60s. And Finestra is every bit the antihero offered by Don Draper. And maybe that’s the thing, maybe we are being presented with Don Draper 2.0 and maybe, for those of us who watched all seven seasons and 92 episodes of Draper’s shenanigans with vigour, we need a change of perspective. There’s certainly diversity in the series, but we experience the story through the same middle-aged-white-male eyes from which we are accustomed to watching the worlds crafted by television. Juno Temple plays Jamie, an assistant at American Century, with an impressive ear for talent and promising future in the industry, maybe the Vinyl story would’ve been a more ground-breaking one did it set some oestrogen on centre stage for a change.

A Bit of History

Vinyl’s pilot is bookended by a scene in present tense. Post-drug deal and consumption, Finestra follows crowds to a New York Dolls show at the Mercer Arts Centre. He stands in the crowd in a hallucinatory state as chandeliers begin to shudder and the plaster on the walls begins to crack. Eventually the building crumbles, collapsing on the concert-goers and the still-playing band. It’s an ode to the way Vinyl weaves elements of truth into its story with finesse that can be attributed to Scorsese’s real life experience of 70-something New York City. His recollection of the Mercer’s collapse, although not mid-show, in August 1973 works as a convenient metaphor for the Vinyl story. As Finestra miraculously emerges from the building’s rubble and staggers from the wreckage with a smile on his face, it becomes clear just how much the label owner is willing to endure for the music, and the extent of the rollercoaster we’re sure to endure over the next nine episodes.

*What is NEON?

NEON is a subscription video on demand service (SVOD) powered by SKY TV.

When you sign up to NEON you get immediate access to a wide range of great movies and TV series, new and old, including exclusive SVOD content like Game of Thrones, Girls, Fargo, Younger, Manhattan, Fear The Walking Dead, Ray Donovan, The Wire, The Sopranos and of course Vinyl. NEON also have loads of exclusive movies, for example 50 Shades of Grey, Cinderella, Guardians of the Galaxy and Star Wars: Episodes I-VI.

Everyone can enjoy a 30 day free trial when you sign up at neontv.co.nz. Conditions apply.