It’s no secret I love to analyze television and film. My wife would say I over-analyze but I don’t care, it’s part of the enjoyment for me. As my life moves forward I’ve obviously become crankier and less amused by certain media targeted at audiences younger than me. With that in mind, I’ve recently begun to question the content in film that is clearly targeted at me. After seeing A Quiet Place earlier this year, I realized film is much more enjoyable when story is unique without following the usual tropes of the genre and being bombarded with content Hollywood deems “realistic”. That is, the myth that simply being rated R is a better experience.
In a culture that harbors the Harvey Weinsteins and Kevin Spaceys of the world, sexual assault has gained an increased awareness as of late. Too few stories, however, have highlighted not just the evil of rape, but the social values that contribute to its prevalence. Broadchurch is the exception.
There’s just something about story writers and small towns. I’m not quite sure what it is, but there’s something there that just beckons for them to come. Whether it’s a small town in Washington that happens to be inhabited by vampires, or the innocent little town where a nice boy named Danny is killed, screenwriters and novelists alike love to use small towns as their backdrop. It has some sort of appeal, and that appeal works in Broadchurch, but that may not necessarily be a good thing.