Literary lifestyle porn

There are many different reasons why we watch TV or like a certain show. I like to watch comedies because I’m interested in how jokes work. Dramas, because the best ones are art, and art is transformative. Reality TV, because it confirms that there are more monstrous people out there than me. And sometimes we like a show because it explicitly displays a lifestyle that we sort of aspire to, but could never really achieve.

I watch Californication because of that last bit.

The show is about a writer named Hank Moody (David Duchovny) who writes angry, white-guy books with titles named after Slayer albums. (His work God Hates Us All plays prominently in the first season.) He lives in L.A. and basically coasts along on money earned from a film adaptation of his book and the kindness of friends.
He has sex, constantly, with beautiful women and is also, constantly, making jokes and wisecracks.

Most of the show’s drama throughout its three-season run has dealt with the on-again, off-again relationship Hank has with his ex-girlfriend Karen. They love each other but Hank is an asshole who tends to favor his own needs over those of others. His daughter recognizes this too.

From one happening to another, Hank slouches and shrugs his way through life, constantly struggling to reconcile what he thinks he wants with the way he acts.

Now four episodes into its third season on Showtime, Californication currently shows Hank teaching a college class and juggling the affections of four different women. He’s also trying to sell a book. So even though nothing ever really happens in Californication, the writing and acting hold it all together in an enjoyable package, with real jokes and creative setups. Duchovny is entertaining as hell in the lead role, nailing the smirking tone perfectly.

Californication is like Entourage for slightly—but only slightly—less shallow people.

Hank is actually intelligent, which is good, whereas the dudes on HBO’s program are just pretty. And the show is also a little more honest about the drawbacks of being a self-absorbed twit than one might expect.

I guess in the end, however, this show is just as impossible a fantasy as Entourage. Again, that’s why I like it. One day I, too, would like to be a charming asshole who writes damn good books and constantly gives people shit. But that certainly isn’t my life now. (Two out of three ain’t bad, right?)

This limited scope makes the show a trifle, but not much more. In a television landscape that is positively brimming with carefully crafted, thought-provoking shows, all Californication does is play into a not-so-uncommon fantasy.

Sure, it’s funny and sometimes features some very attractive naked people, but those things alone do not a great show make. Something that would challenge my delusions—and those of people like me—would, ultimately, be a lot more worthwhile.

But this will be fun while it lasts.