Que se vayan todos!

"they do not heap conditions upon others or promote themselves as the only 'keepers of the truth'. -- Pope Francis, role playing with Peter Parker.

When spastic was a burgeoning teenager, cable television may have not been in its infancy, but it was still a new and complex technology, one based on subscription, and subscription, as a type of revenue generation, still seems an easier way to generate capital, in contrast to collective models. I looked at the HBO network differently then, persuaded by the logo’s muscle. It was premiere, vintage, and later, when The Sopranos soaked up that exclusivity, I felt left out for not having the means to join in to the sinews of the public conversation. Things have changed. When AT&T awarded me access to the venerable survivor of the streaming wars, I came bearing metaphysical crucifix in hand; from this perspective, treating Iglesia’s 30 monedas with sagacity is difficult. Concessions? Certainly there are concessions. The CW’s lengthy commitment with “The Supernatural” was writing for superficial Americans with one track minds. Every so often, the show runners tipped their hats as a sign of respect. Paramount’s “Evil,” discomfited me slightly more, but interest waned when the series married the Satanic to Minority Report special effects. Iglesia, on the other hand, takes Apostolic witness very seriously, as well as the corruption within the clergy. After three episodes, I asked myself, as a matter of ethical concern, whether or not I should stop watching it. I am rebellious, violent, after all, so who am I to be appalled by lack of Spaniards tender mercies, with not a little assistance from Cosimo Fusco, the Italian who nearly disrupted Jennifer Aniston from her perky little perch? What nags conscience isn’t solely a matter of aesthetics, but how the industry has graduated in portrayals of established faith, and 30 monedas is rather a nasty and convoluted condemnation of the Curia. The first convergence of unease: Iglesia doesn’t mesh modernism with Old World caste and station very well. This may have been deliberate, to offer up foreboding along with the grotesque, but it gives each episode a chunky quality, earthy and hard bitten as we follow Vergara, then ornate and Baroque as Santoro schemes with his ill begotten henchmen. The juxtaposition is queasy. Aldomovar has a much better balance in his excellent horror film. Perhaps Francis might be reminded that indignation can be equally beneficial.