The Closer Creator James Duff Previews Winter Season
Jon Tenney and Kyra Sedgwick, The Closer
Change can be both necessary and extremely hard to accept, especially when we have a say in the matter. If you don't believe in destiny, it's possible sometimes to escape it, but the required effort can seem almost worse than the fate we're trying to avoid.
In our more experimental winter season, Brenda starts out even more resistant to change than usual, especially when Fritz confronts her with a little rescue kitten named Joel. To the unpracticed eye, Joel might appear irresistible; to the scarred heart of Brenda Leigh Johnson, however, the tiny orange-and-white kitten looks less like change and more like the repetition of a journey that ended with her beloved Kitty's ashes in an urn on the mantle. Saying no to Joel's cute, little face might seem difficult, but Brenda believes she has a choice in the matter. Fritz employs some interesting relationship maneuvers in an attempt to convince her otherwise. The past does not necessarily dictate the future.
Unless, perhaps, we're examining gangs.
There are certain neighborhoods in Los Angeles where ordinary parents must work extra hard to save their children from what is euphemistically referred to as "The Life." But what about boys and girls born into so-called "gang families"? What sort of choice does a 12-year-old boy have about the future when his own father — and his older brother, too — are already deeply involved in gangs? And he is expected to follow in their footsteps? Can a boy encumbered at birth by violence, cruelty and lawlessness overcome his destiny? Or must he prematurely embrace it? Should twelve-year-olds in America be asked to make these choices?
And what about the victims of gang brutality? How do they emerge from this cycle of violence with their bodies and souls in tact? They, too, may have alternatives that could lead to escape, but every choice carries with it a consequence.
The Closer returns this Monday to discover the city of Los Angeles out of sorts. It starts with a middle-school boy shot to death on the floor of a flophouse, rapidly turning into a strange series of murdered gang members, and then changing once more into a search for a missing twenty-two-year old woman, who may (or may not be) a killer.
And how about Lt. Provenza, who, when last seen, was working up the nerve to ask his girlfriend to marry him? Will his cycle of failed relationships be permanently interrupted? Or will he engage, once again, in the one activity absolutely prerequisite to every divorce (by which, of course, I mean marriage). Can the oldest dog in Major Crimes be taught a new trick or two? Is change still possible?
In these final three episodes of our fifth year — the all too brief island between two seasons — we tend to concentrate more on characters and relationships than we do in the summer. And though the story told by Hunt Baldwin and John Coveny admittedly examines the darker side of the human heart, it also fully displays that light by which all of its shadows are cast.
And one little surprise: Brenda has never received a more disturbing box of chocolates.
Next week, we welcome Beau Bridges in a star turn unique to his brilliant career. Touching, tough and unnerving, Mr. Bridges plays Provenza's old partner, George, with commitment, grace and some very strange shoes. Beau's performance, in fact, vividly illustrates the difference between change and choice. Also, we will finally hear — for the very first time — someone call Lt. Provenza by his given name. More on all of this later.
In the meantime, thanks for having us back in your homes for the upcoming holidays. We appreciate the invitation more than you know.