Poisoned Creole Soul
The first season of True Detective is at its best when it is slowly peeling back the layers of its characters and story, drawing us into an exploration of the dark and twisted aspects of human nature. Like any good crime show, it is intriguing in its ability to touch on the parts of society that we often try to distance ourselves from. A detective is an interesting character usually in his ability to explore the taboo; we give these literary archetypes the job of examining criminals, prostitutes, drug or human traffickers, and cultists so we can enjoy the thrill of picking apart their minds and actions without having to be personally involved.
True Detectives first season focuses on two detectives, Rustin “Rust” Cole and Martin “Marty” Harrelson, as they investigate a string of murders and human trafficking victims found across Louisiana. The show pulls no punches about revealing the depth and creativity of humanity's capacity for evil. Scenes can be truly sickening. The relationship between the two detectives as they examine a number of horrendous crimes is a key part of the show, their personalities playing out in contrast. Rust’s doomed and existential outlook unnerves the down-to-earth Marty who seems mostly worried about getting home to his kids and college sweetheart. But, it’s hard for Marty, and us, not to give Rust’s views some credit as the show delves deep within a landscape rotten to its very core. Often the show indulges in Rust’s out loud pondering about whether humanity can claim to be of any positive value in the universe, nicely situated against some of the worst crimes one could imagine.
But, if we take a second to step back from the philosophical ruminations of Rust on the “tragic misstep in evolution” that is humanity we find that True Detective’s nihilistic commentary is deeply intertwined with a historical understanding of the Deep South. Even though it is rarely explicit, the show does not ignore Louisiana's legacy of slavery. Instead, it is often latent and implied within the story and cultural landscape. The sermon we hear at a pop-up church event in the middle of nowhere is disturbingly reminiscent of a KKK gathering. Even though the actual content of the sermon is harmless, the chanting delivery of the preacher and the cultish and unthinking audience can’t help but make us writhe in our seats. Indeed, our detectives find that the numerous cases of rape, mutilation, and murder of children they encounter are caused by a cult operating out of religious schools, using church funds, and led by an enormously influential Reverend.
These details remind us that perennially present themes of Southern religion running throughout the show are deeply rooted in a culture built on sickening acts of dehumanization enabled by a cultish distortion of reality. It’s easy to draw parallels between the KKK’s series of lynchings and True Detectives imagined pseudo-religious organization, acting in accordance with a larger Christian organization, that rapes, mutilates, and murders innocents. When we return to the primary nature of the show, this aspect seems to become another item of taboo that our detectives have been given the ability to explore. Nihilistic wonderings could easily be applied to questions revolving around the South’s ability to escape the psychological aftereffects of being a slaveholding society. The realities of the Lost Cause mythology and organizations like the Daughters of Confederacy exemplify the relevance of this question. In short, True Detective’s contemplative first season invites us to peel back the layers of Louisiana’s “poisoned creole soul”(a line from the song Far From Any Road that opens each episode) and successfully touches on the fact that much of that poison can be traced to the practice of slavery.