When I am through with you, there won't be anything left

People of Earth,

Please allow me to indulge myself on this hump night with a love letter to the creators of Damages, a show so pants-droppingly mesmerizing that I devoured it almost in its entirety in a matter of weeks, before I had to stop myself because I did not want the ride to end. I am a little more than midway through season three, and I am rationing for myself the remaining episodes so as to decrease the waiting period between my watching the season three finale and the season four premiere this summer. In the meantime, words fail me in describing how incredibly this show is written and paced, except to say that the WTF moments happen so consistently and thoroughly that I can barely gird my loins in preparation, but the casting is really where the jaw begins to drop. Below, a pictorial summary:

The show begins and ends with Patty Hewes and what Glenn Close does with this role is, in the words of Javier, UNBELEBABLE. She won two Emmys back-to-back for the first two seasons and there is just no competition. She is terrifying and it is incredible to watch her eyes light up with every new scheme she cooks up to take down everyone around her. Nothing more can be said. Her performance has to be seen to be believed.

Next up, Ellen Parsons. The sad-eyed, innocent waif gets scooped up by Patty straight out of law school and, as expected, has no idea what she's getting herself into. Rose Byrne is an interesting character. I've been flipflopping about her since I first saw her in Troy and I generally found her to be bland and uninteresting. But lately, she's turned me around completely, and it was Get Him to the Greek that cinched it. She goes through hell and back throughout Damages and, though she lost me in season two, that was more to do with where her character was going than what she was doing as an actor. She's become one of the main reasons I'm excited about Bridesmaids this year. I'm thinking she could outshine all the other seasoned comedians she's working with, though that would be tough as shit. Almost as tough as Ellen. Parsons.

Ahh, there he is. My love. Tom Shayes. If you'd have told me five years ago that Marissa's dad would weasel his way into my heart, I would have thought you were fucking my face. But alas, Tom Shayes. Tom Shayes Tom Shayes Tom Shayes. Patty's right-hand woman. What can I say about Tom? He dresses like a young Scott Disick. That's about it. Oh, and he's completely amazing in every way. No one was happier than me to see this happen, not even Tom (if you consider this a spoiler, please sit down before you fall down):




They always say save the best for fourth, and here he is:

I mean, really. If I need to explain to you why this is a fucking biggie, then you are a bigger failure than your parents thought. His resume is longer than his legs, his hair excites me more than follicles logically should, and his diction puts Frasier and Niles to fruity and precocious shame. It's not enough that he constantly tests our devotion to the other two leads on Bored to Death, he has to come to F/X and play a terrifying (there it is again. More to come later. The show is basically an exercise in horror, in the best way possible), sexy billionaire beast with the best name in all the world. FROBISHER!

Speaking of Frobisher, the man who stood by him through thin and thin was Ray Fiske, the impeccably named Zeljko Ivanek. You know him, you love him, he's been in everything ever made, including a recent turn as the Magister in True Blood (if ever someone was born to play a leader of vampires...). Before Tom Shayes went and stole my heart, it belonged to Ray.

And in a totally unrelated matter, The Fach makes a sexy series of appearances in season one as Gregory Malina. I think his character can best be described as a big, dumb, hot baby. Thank you, once again, creators. My ovaries thank you, too.

Every show needs an ambiguously ethnic character, and this show has it in the form of the not-at-all-ethnic-sounding Phil Grey, Patty's husband, played by the slightly-more-ethnic-sounding Michael Nouri. IMDb says he has Iraqi blood in him, mixed with Irish blood. That is hot. He was also apparently the hunky blue-collar boyfriend of Jennifer Beals in Flashdance. Still hot?

Remember I said we'd be back at terrifying? Here we are. William Hurt is always magnetic onscreen. Watching his Daniel Purcell (goodie? baddie? we just don't know! until we do) go at it with Patty was one of the biggest joys of season two, which unfortunately was still my least favourite of the three seasons, because the big baddie, Walter Kendrick, was just meh. No Frobisher, I'll tell you that.

And speaking of Oscar winners:

Season two had it in spades. Marcia Gay didn't have too much to work with, but she was fabulous nonetheless.

Why did no one have the bright idea of hiring Darrell Hammond as a creepy creeperson in a twisty drama before? He fucking killed it! Known only as The Deacon. What kind of service does he provide? How dare you?

Kevin Corrigan might just have the best resume on earth. He has worked with them all, and his Finn Garrity was delicious to watch. And speaking of delicious:

That's right. Daddy's home. His role could not be more inconsequential, but his impact...substantial to say the least.

And now, perhaps the best part of season two. Ellen finally got to get away from her Ann-hog fiance and get with Wes. Mmmm, Olyphant. I need to start Justified.

Ugh, what a horrifying transition. Don't even get me started on this guy. Tom Noonan was a revelation in Synecdoche but he is such an annoying little turd here that I just cannot. We'll see if he turns me around by the end of the season, but it's not looking good. His detective shtick is unbearable.

Ok, now on to the good stuff. Season three brings a Bernie Madoff story with a cast you could only dream of. Ms. Tomlin is the ferocious matriarch, Marilyn Tobin. Ruth Madoff wishes.

And joining the long list of SNL alumni successfully and ass-kickingly making the transition to drama, our own Marty Short (Hamilton counts as "our own," but only in this instance). Leonard Winstone is the Tobins' lawyer and he gives Glenn Close some serious competition in the gluing you to your screen department. Troubled family past, check. Illegal shenanigans on behalf of the Tobins, check. Doesn't bode well for him, but for us? Check.

OK. OK. Is it time? Are we ready? Hold on to something firm, because here he is:

I don't know if you can remember back in my extensive ouevre to a certain Roger Dodger review in which I lost my shit over a certain Campbell Scott and urged you to watch him in a certain Damages. Well, we've come full circle, fuckers. All through seasons one and two, I was quivering with anticipation because I knew who awaited me in season three.

My God.

Well, naturally it's been difficult to get through season three episodes without keeling over. And I can only imagine what the climax and the finale will do to me. But in the meantime, I'm going to take it one day at a time. One exquisitely-clad and bespectacled day at a time.

Elbow patches!

Well, that about wraps things up. You (all one of you) need Damages in your life. Need one more reason? I dare you not to shake it, madam, to this most excellent of intros. The amount of fervent upper-body dancing to this song before every episode...I can't even tell you.