Copper

Copper is a typical by-product of the era of quality TV and concept series, i.e. a second-rate production that tries to fool a gullible audience. In terms of concept, we have here an almost paint-by-numbers checklist of how to pretend to be an HBO product: an ensemble cast composed of familiar faces, an established filmmaker as executive producer and the promise of an epic spectacle. But this isn’t HBO, so the production boasts the name of Barry Levinson (who probably makes his living simply by lending his name to the credits of television productions), the most famous star is Franka Potente and the grand concept falls damned far from it apparent inspiration, Gangs of New York. Copper is appealing (and basically entertaining) in how it obviously and superficially tries to impress viewers. It becomes clear in the first ten minutes of the first episode, with its high concentration of clichés and formulas, that Copper does not intend to leave anything to chance: we start with shots of grime and poverty so that viewers can see that nothing is being sugar-coated, then we throw in some modern action with blood spatter, and then we cram in some bedroom scenes and bare asses in order to make it clear how grown-up this series really is. Of course, everything is rendered in the hyper-realistic style of blockbusters (so the filth and boldness are truly artificial) and all of the exteriors are filmed in medium shots or with a view that is in some way obstructed so as to save money on sets. On the other hand, it’s necessary to admit that such series are actually ideal fare for the average television viewer. Thanks to their overwrought yet essentially empty melancholy and bleakness, they offer attractions similar to those found in their much better competition, but they don’t burden viewers with any real complexity. And thanks to their pretentiousness, they give audiences the impression that they are watching something extraordinary. (25/09/2013)