Foyle's Demeanor: The Role of Fiction in the Golden Age of Television

For some reason, the Phantom has little patience for fiction in print, but  he can spend many hours enthralled by fiction on television, in this, its golden age.

Tonight, he started with "Downton Abbey," and was delighted by the depiction of kindness in the scene between the kitchen maid bidding good bye to the man she loves who cannot return her love, then moved on to "House of Cards," with its depiction of ruthlessness, duplicity and Shakespearean scheming to, finally, and most satisfying, "Foyle's War."

With Downton, it was love at first sight; with "House of Cards" it was a wildly consuming fling, could not stop watching, but Foyle grows on you steadily, takes deep root and you marvel, with each episode at Foyle.  

There is a serviceable supporting cast: Honeysuckle Weeks, his driver, is wonderfully understated and deliciously unattractive in the Hollywood sense, but what she does with her voice, her intonation:  A simple, "I don't think so," is a marvel. Foyle's son is important mostly as he reveals an important side of Foyle, but it is Foyle who continues to astonish.  

He is so understated, so expressive with such minimal effort. He says always less than anyone else would say with greater effect than a tirade, a diatribe or any longer expression of self. He simply allows insults, anger, indignation sail past as he pieces together a pathway to the truth. He listens carefully, often impassively, registering little, but by the end of each episode, he is able to summarize what he has formulated with such precision and insight you realize this is a man who only speaks when he has something important to say. This is a man who must be listened to. As people age, they tend to become regarded as  irrelevant, and they are ignored. Nothing they can say could possibly be of any interest. But not Foyle. Everything he says is of interest.

What he provides, psychologically, for any male over the age of 55, is an idea.  His character suggests how one might live one's life with grace and relevance, even after the games of romance, career ambition, the pursuit of wealth are no longer central or even palatable.  With his hat brim turned  up and his humble posture, he makes Columbo look overbearing by comparison.  He is simply curious, observant and kind. No venality, dishonesty, arrogance, cruelty is lost on him. He simply files it away for later use. 

He does not solve every crime or bring offense to a satisfying conclusion in every case. Sometimes, for reasons of state or for reasons of war,  he must allow a miscreant to get away. But he does not forgive or forget, and sometimes a man who did not meet his just desserts in a prior episode gets his comeuppance later, although each 90 minute episode is self contained and can be watched by a viewer who has not seen any of the prior episodes.

Foyle, as played by Mr. Kitchen, provides hope for men slipping into the autumn of their years, or perhaps their own winter.  His struggles and his acceptance of his place backstage,  while the most important action is happening dramatically under the bright lights on the war front,  is nothing short of inspiring.

As men in their fifties and sixties discover, they can no longer play on the big stage. They cannot take the field, hit the home run, charge up the hill, ride the Derby winner or pick up the pretty girl. They are simply no longer in the game as they once were. 

But Foyle is still in a game.  And that game is important enough.

In one episode Foyle has the opportunity to become a player on the big stage: He is offered a post in British intelligence, but he ultimately sees he would be shoved as a round peg in a square hole in the larger bureaucracy of British intelligence, and he is actually more effective and more important in the "minor leagues" of British sleuthing, the town of Hastings, where murder, adultery, theft, selfishness still play out, despite the war.

So add Foyle to "House of Cards," "Game of Thrones," Downton, "Breaking Bad" and whatever may come from "The Killing."  We are living in the golden age of television. Even after "The Wire," there are wonderful things to see on TV. 

Of course, like Shakespeare, "The Wire" really has no peer. But there is no reason to make the perfect the enemy of the very good.