My Lost Weekend Watching House of Cards

It is a blessed relief that Slate.com recently defended freaks like me who binge on TV series that are a bit more complex than Made in Chelsea or Gossip Girl. (Although, full disclaimer, I have been known to watch several hours of each of these shows back to back when I’m hungover.) While I think calling my Lost Weekend Watching House of Cards a “restorative experience,” akin to a yoga class or other mentally soothing yet engaging activity, is a little too generous, I’m gonna take it. My mind is literally spinning with thoughts after finishing the series. You may take issue with this assertion, but I definitely feel that all 13 hours of the show kept me intellectually engaged and raised some key questions about America, politics and the nature of power. Below I entertain a few.

If you haven’t finished Season 2, I wouldn’t recommend reading any further. I’m notorious for spoilers although I haven’t put anything too revealing in the sentences below (I think).

It seems to me that when it comes to American politics, morality is a huge part of the equation. Morality in politics is something that I haven’t witnessed in most other places I’ve been to, especially Europe. However, House of Cards shows how epically morally bankrupt most American politicians (in the cast, of course) are. Not only is this distressingly hypocritical, it is completely unnecessary when juxtaposed to the way our friends across the big drink do things. Why bring morality into politics at all? Act in accordance with what’s legal and ethical, make laws that fit into the fabric of society and leave your personal stuff at the door. Instead, with every episode we’re reminded that God must be invoked publically even while the most nefarious, illegal and immoral activities are being done by the same people behind closed doors. Besides public opinion, why even put up with the farce? And in reality, if the public knows more or less what’s really going on in Washington, why do we expect our politicians to talk some ridiculous talk when they’re clearly not walking the walk?

Speaking of morals. House of Cards portrays the American Dream, but extremely and supremely perverted. Francis came from “nothing,” a poor Southern boy who worked his way through the ranks to become President of the United States. That’s the anesthetized PR version, anyway. In reality, he’s stepped on any and everyone he has to in order to meet his final goal. Regardless of the reputations damaged, people killed and lives left in ruin because of his actions, intentional or not, it doesn’t matter: the ends justify the means. I think that, to a lesser extent, many Americans take this individualistic, narcasstic approach, and hide behind the “American Dream” as a justification of their “To the Victor Go the Spoils” attitude.

On that note: what if the victor is difficult to determine? As Varys says in GoT (another binge-worthy show), power is an illusion. Is it really? In House of Cards, it is difficult to tell, just as it is difficult to tell who really comes out ahead. Throughout the entire second season we see a war unravel the relationship between Francis and Raymond Tusk. Raymond’s vast wealth helped him gain influence in political circles- and even influence the makeup of these circles. The things Raymond wants, he buys. There’s no disputing that money can buy you an awful lot of what you want, but sometimes money isn’t the price that needs to be paid. That’s why Francis plays Raymond’s foil so well. What he wants, money can’t buy. Accumulating the kind of power he needs requires that he use his old Whip skills of intimidation, manipulation, etc.: he needs people to believe he’s powerful, and no amount of money will buy that. Regardless, neither seem to come out totally ahead. Raymond Tusk may have lost the war, but his money helped him wriggle out of what seemed the catastrophic consequences of loss. Francis may have gotten to the Oval Office, but Garret’s resignation highlights just how tenuous that power can be. Overall, it seems that money can’t buy happiness or the Presidency, but it can buy you a stacked Congress and get you out of handcuffs. Power, on the other hand, is a currency with questionable liquidity. If you’re lucky, like Francis, the trade off when you go to cash out is ultimately minimal. It all depends on how good you are at making people think what you’ve got is valuable.

One thing is for sure: watching Francis’ slow march to the Oval Office was like listening to a Thelonius Monk piece. It was mesmerizing. It was beautiful. It was a bit dangerous. And although it had a foundation, a goal, the long march there was full of improvisation as well as syncopation. And if anything got in the way, it was incorporated into this beautiful, dangerous disorder. However, as JJ Johnson once said, “Jazz is restless. It won’t stay put and never will.” Likewise, House of Cards shows that money and power are restless and ephemeral, and if there’s one lesson 13 hours on the couch has taught me, it is that you have to fight to keep it.