Paradise is a good show. I have to get that out of the way early, because I do think that it's fun and well-plotted and knotted with enough twists to sustain a strong momentum throughout its eight-episode seasons. The premise is simple enough, though doled out slowly throughout the first episode: President Cal Bradford (played with charm by James Marsden) is murdered, and Secret Service agent Xavier Collins (a sometimes-bored, sometimes-transcendent Sterling K. Brown) is trying to figure out whodunit. That by itself would be interesting enough to merit a peek, but the big reveal at the end of the premiere is that all of the events of the show are taking place in an underground bunker somewhere under Colorado.
See, the world outside this bunker has been ravaged by what we first think is nuclear war but later, in the show's best episode "The Day," is revealed to be something else entirely. There are conspiracies centered around Bradford's murder and the machinations of Samantha Redmond (codename: Sinatra), and it's all pulpy fun that, in a lot of ways good and bad, reminds me of Lost. I've enjoyed my journey this past week binging the show on Hulu, but it has one glaring problem that ruins almost every episode: The music fucking sucks.
That's not entirely fair; the score is broadly good, and serves the plot. What specifically sucks is a gimmick that the show has decided to deploy repeatedly: Every episode, barring the aforementioned standout "The Day," hits its climax to the tune of what can best be described as breathy, slowed-down covers of popular '80s songs. It's the cursed sibling of the haunting piano covers of last decade from seemingly every movie trailer, and I have to say, it's hard to stay focused on the plot and the emotional payoffs at the end of episodes when this shit is blaring in your ears:
Sure, there's a story-related reason for the focus on 1980s songs: It's a running joke that Bradford loves '80s crap, a love that he forces upon his son, Jeremy. I would understand if Paradise utilized these songs to convey the disconnect between President father and rebellious shithead teen son, and at times, it does; most of these songs first appear in the episodes in their real form, only to later devolve into an "Epic Trailer Version" of "I Think We're Alone Now":
The second season of Paradise began its run on Feb. 23 with "Graceland," and I was hoping for a reprieve from the covers. "Graceland" is a bit of a departure for the show; rather than continue on from the season one finale, in which Agent Collins steals a plane and flies into the outside world, which we have by then been told is actually inhabitable and filled with survivors, the show detours to an end-of-the-world vignette starring Shailene Woodley.
That's right, Paradise went Woodley Mode, and it broadly works: We see her character, Annie, lose her mom, drop out of medical school, and then work as a tour at the titular Elvis mansion. She's there when the catastrophe that "ends the world" (I'll avoid the spoilers because, really, the episode that reveals what happened is so good) hits, and she holes up in the Graceland basement for two years. Some stuff happens, it's important but not noteworthy for my purposes right now, and a slowed-down cover of the already balladic "Can't Help Falling In Love" (incredibly subtitled "Dark Version" on the artist's YouTube page) divebombs the scene.
Gahhhh! Why? The original song is gorgeous, just use that. Also, Crazy Rich Asians already did the "Can't Help Falling In Love" cover scene, and better.
Anyway, I haven't watched episodes 2 through 4 of the new season just yet (though I did accidentally read a major spoiler while writing this blog; damn it and you're welcome for my sacrifice), but I have no hope that I will be freed from this prison of cringe anytime soon.
I'll leave you with the cover that got the biggest eye-roll and groan from me in the moment: In episode five, Bradford talks up Rocky III to his son, and says that they have to watch it together, since it's an iconic movie with an equally iconic song. As soon as the words "eye of the tiger" exited Marsden's mouth, I tried to prepare myself for a ballad version of perhaps the most famous pump-up song in popular culture, but I have to admit ... I was not ready for this:
God damnit, Paradise.
