Sons of Anarchy is almost the exact opposite of Treme (see review from earlier today), whereas Treme is a show I want to like and know is good for me, but I just never really can get into, Sons of Anarchy is pure junk food. It’s the equivalent of Real Housewives for Men, where we watch a bunch of nasty, sociopathic bikers try to out-scheme their way out of trouble (and, more often than not, fuck up in even bigger and bloodier ways). They’re sexist, racist, homophobic, think nothing of killing anything or slapping women around, and, worst of all, most of the bikers are stupid. [It’s an unspoken rule in shows about anti-heroes that Vic Mackey and Walter White can be awful people as long as they’re the smartest guys in the room.]
And yet where Sons of Anarchy actually loses interest, for me, is when it tries to get softer and deeper. Creator Kurt Sutter (who also plays the long, looooong suffering and imprisoned Otto on the show) has a stubborn sentimental streak, one where he clearly loves the romantic notion of a brotherhood of guys who really love the open road, watching each other’s backs, and giving long winded speeches with their baby mamas. Most of the more tender stuff between mothers and sons, husbands and wives, legitimate citizens and Sons members, and old friends really falls flat and is a great time to text someone.
However, when the show embraces its strengths, and lets all hell break loose, we get sucked into the constantly shifting alliances and power plays within this Southern California criminal underclass. This season alone has brought excellent support in the form of a high-class black criminal who just nearly seems legitimate, a Mexican cartel enforcer secretly working for the CIA, and, best of all, a shockingly likable pimp (or, as he calls it, “a companionator”) played by the always soulful Jimmy Smits. [Smits’s screen time is limited, but he’s managed to create a fully three dimensional character and makes the most of every scene he has.]
This show works best when it’s at its worst. When the different criminal elements swirl around each other over complex turf battles in a sort of gangland version of The Maltese Falcon. When the “mother” of the pack (a fearless Katie Sagal) can screw over the man she’s just pledged love for. And when “brothers” hug each other in one scene, while waiting to stab each other in the back.
Like a deep-fried oreo, this isn’t health food, and you know it’s bad for you, but you aren’t interested in having it with a side of carrots. [Which, on the show, would take the form of sentimental speeches about how Jax “needs to get out of the gun business brother!” or pretty much anytime his Vice President Bobby opens his mouth.] When you do something wrong, do it right, and Sons of Anarchy has been very wrong for most of this season (just note the sick brilliance of Walton Goggins as a transvestite prostitute/old-fashioned Southern Belle earlier this year). Grade for the season: B+…Grade for the finale: B