Tam Tiska

This movie had a big job: tie up loose plot lines, include appearances from all the main characters, cue what the last ten years had wrought for them, and then have some kind of storyline that would cover the space of a few days and allow character development for everyone. Impossible! I was disappointed after my first watch: the plot seemed contrived, the dialogue was hard to follow, and some of it was downright corny (twirling in the snow? “I’m home”?) And mostly, I was incredibly distracted by how the women had aged—as someone who is not handling the aging process well. So, I watched again. And again. I’ve forgiven the awkward plot—Deadwood was more about characters and relationships than plot, anyway. I untangled the dialogue. And I’ve accepted the fact that we all age. It just wasn’t possible to include the long quiet moments, the meaningful pauses, the rich back-and-forths that made the series so awesome. The shots of boots in the mud, glasses on the bar. There just wasn’t enough time. So I re-watched it trying to keep in mind that David Milch had to make sure each scene did double duty, that every word mattered, that nothing was by accident. And that’s when I became a fan. Was Alma’s return simply a way to show that Seth, while still harboring some old feelings for her, had 100% re-committed to life with Martha? Of course not. Alma didn’t have a lot of screen time, but I think she had an important personal journey over the course of the movie—one that wasn’t all about letting go of Seth. (Was she really holding on to him anyway?) The last time we saw her in Deadwood, the town had been trying to protect her, and she sold her claim to Hearst because she feared what he would do to Sofia. This time, she served as protector of the town, she bought something Hearst wanted, and then Seth hugged her almost childlike gratitude. She’s come a long way from the helpless widow of Season One, and probably didn’t see that coming when she got off the train as a visitor, not a member of the community. (I won’t write an essay on this, but I think I could. And definitely a long one on why Seth cried—a display that was touching upon first viewing, but one that I didn’t fully comprehend until later.) Another example of Milch’s care with the script: it was sweet when Al said to Trixie, “Aren’t you a vision?” while walking her down the stairs, but Milch surely remembered the first time Al said those exact words to Trixie—during Season One when Trixie was headed over to help Alma with Sofia, except that time it was said sarcastically. Which made it the words so much sweeter this time. With Milch, every moment, every utterance, means something. The guy had been working on the script for years and years. He adored his characters. I just needed to pay better attention. Thank you to cast, crew, and David Milch.