I wept when the last episode wrapped up, not only because of
the show’s emotional content, but because I had bonded with the characters, whom
I had come to view as my buddies, or at least substitute buddies after a pandemic
year of too much isolation. The completion of the show meant that I was losing
my connection with them.
Set in Miami, the show is about a former spy, Michael
Weston, who gets “burned,” that is, cut off from all resources for mysterious
reasons. The reasons are rather convoluted and take a while to resolve, but almost
every show also features the satisfaction of a resolved sub-plot, so it doesn’t
get too frustrating. It contains LOTS and LOTS of gun fights, car chases and
explosions.
In a way, I hesitate to recommend the show because it does have
some ridiculous moments. The first few seasons particularly feature lots of
poolside and beachside babes in bikinis, as if Miami was almost exclusively populated by young,
shapely women and devoid of anyone over 30 or carrying extra poundage.
I’ve been in Miami twice and I don’t recall either the city
overall or the people looking as good as they do in Burn Notice.
Clearly this show ran prior to the “#MeToo” movement because
some casting director evidently had way too much fun getting young women to
parade around in bikinis. I had to wonder what the young women told their parents.
“Hey Mom, look, those are my butt cheeks on Burn Notice!”
All that aside, I loved the show.
It was fascinating to watch the character development. The
main character’s relationship to his mother starts out acrimonious in the first
episode but develops into a touching mother-son relationship. His girlfriend,
or ex-girlfriend, is something of a caricature at first and not very likeable but
evolves into a warmer, more likeable person who is simultaneously tough and
tender. His friends epitomize cool confidence and evoke a bro-like, action-oriented
masculine energy that I found very compelling and attractive.
The main character possesses an extraordinary ability to achieve
his objectives. He can improvise weapons or explosives MacGyver-style (‘member
him?) or instantaneously spin a convincing yarn to elude capture or detection.
This makes him aspirational and somewhat mythic, but he has enough flaws and
struggles to make him sufficiently relatable and realistic.
A lot of the tips—like how to improvise explosives or break
into a safe—seem spot on and I can only hope that they aren’t appropriated for
nefarious purposes.
It’s embarrassing to admit this, but “hanging around” with Michael
Weston and his pals provided me with a sense of belonging that I lack without the
show, and I feel a bit lost without my “friends.”
Crazy, right?
I’m usually not this unhinged regarding entertainment, so I’ve
tried to analyze why I got so emotionally involved. The ability to binge-watch
a show does create a kind of escapist alternate reality. My life is generally
boring and I’m fine with that. I enjoy simple pleasures: books, gardening,
walking my dog, studying Scripture, a good cup of coffee.
At the same time, I crave at least some modicum of excitement
and the Burn Notice alternate reality provided that. I could vicariously battle
bad guys in pursuit of justice. But most of all, I think I craved the sense of camaraderie
and belonging after a year of too much enforced isolation and not being able to
see peoples’ faces.
I guess I’ll have to go back to watching HGTV, which seems very
mundane now. A quartz-topped kitchen island can’t really compete with gun fights,
car chases and explosions for excitement.
This year has been tough, even for a natural introvert like
me. The extroverts I know have especially become unglued.
Please be kind, reach out to someone and let them know that
they belong.
We need each other and the people from Burn Notice never
really existed in the first place.
