Despite my better judgement, I’m still watching Jericho. It’s entirely silly, but something about it is holding my attention—perhaps the aforementioned morbid fascination with anything involving a mushroom cloud.
The show is competently produced, and the acting is fairly decent. What bothers me, though, is that the good townsfolk of Jericho just don’t seem to be taking the news of nuclear attack all that seriously.
Sure, there was the sort-of riot at the gas station in the first episode, and they’ve had their fair share of “Whatever will we do now?” moments. There was even the fall-out scare from the second episode. However, none of these mini-crises seemed particularly challenging or out of the ordinary—the mayor easily averted the riot with an inspiring “Let’s all work together” speech, and the fall-out emergency was eclipsed by the mine cave-in and the escaped convicts at the farmhouse.
Moments of high drama, to be sure, but we’re talking about nuclear war here, people. Multiple warheads have apparently struck cities across the country, and yet the town of Jericho has time for the community barbeque, the plot still focuses on the intrigues of the local teenagers, and no one seems to think that driving around 6 mpg SUVs and pickup trucks might not be the best idea when gas is running low.
Two other aspects of the story strike me as problematic. First, where are the other people? Kansas is not exactly densely populated, but if they could see the mushroom cloud from Denver just over the horizon, there have got to be other towns nearby. Second, why is the only black guy in town being played up as the shady, suspicious character?
I’m willing to let these questions slide for the time being in hopes that the writers have some answers in the wings.
At the opposite end of the spectrum, I recently watched Threads (Wikipedia link). Produced by the BBC in 1984, the movie tells the story of two families in Sheffield, England during the run-up to and aftermath of nuclear war between the United States and the Soviet Union.
It may come as no surprise that Threads provides an entirely depiction of nuclear war than Jericho. Part of the reason is a practical one—in Threads, a bomb strikes an RAF base near Sheffield, and an airburst goes off overhead, so the characters start off in a much worse situation than their counterparts in Kansas. However, even that storytelling decision is illustrative of the difference in tone between the two productions.
Jericho uses the nuclear attack as a device to get the story rolling. It is present in the background, but could just as well be swapped out for any other kind of disaster, natural or otherwise. One gets the impression that everything will be okay if the good townsfolk come together, and if Skeet Ulrich is left to do his heroic best. Threads, on the other hand, is all about the nuclear war, and from the start, there seems to be little doubt that it will end badly for everyone involved. Furthermore, there is little hope that any of the characters can pull it together—panic, squabbling, and selfishness doom any attempts to survive in the bleak aftermath of the attack.
Therein lies the main problem with Jericho: it doesn’t take its subject matter seriously. While understandable, given that more than ten years stand between us and a time when the Soviets had thousands of missiles pointed at us and could fire them at any moment, this frivilousness is disappointing, and rather scary.