There is a common refrain among people who enjoy HBO programming. It’s been around for decades and is one I’d agree with easily. You have to prepare to give yourself patience when watching The Wire. It’s not going to reveal its magic to you right away. While I think the binge streaming era has normalized this behavior, there is still something unique about a show designed more like a Leo Tolstoy novel, especially during a time when DVRs weren’t as prominent.
However, I’d argue that there’s one show from HBO’s phenomenal line-up that would be even more difficult to get into. It may be why when discussing the ultimate HBO series it rarely comes up or reaches the Top 10. In Treatment as a premise is among the most brilliant things they’ve ever conceived. It follows the weekly sessions of a therapist with the Friday episodes giving them a chance to peer into his own struggles. It was a slower, more minimalist series that was often more interesting on a script level. At just a half hour, it was also not that terrible of a commitment… if you remembered to watch.
A major conflict with my watching was in part the excess of episodes. From the outside, one would assume that the five ongoing plotlines wouldn’t overlap save for Gabriel Byrne’s therapist lead Paul. For example, I was initially drawn to the series because I’m a big fan of Mia Wasikowska. Did I really want to sit through four other stories that might bore me? According to conversations, it was crucial to watch it all. They painted a richer picture of Paul and, in fact, delivered some engrossing looks at their internal lives. While therapy has become more recognized in the contemporary age, I can only assume how In Treatment must’ve been received in the late 2000s.
I worked through the first season and mostly liked it. The only conflict was that it took me a long time to get through because I struggled to find a rhythm. Maybe it was because of my own busy schedule, but I’d watch a dozen episodes and then forget about it for a month. I always loved watching. The writing and interactions were so vivid that I couldn’t help but feel connected with these characters. It’s just that maybe their conflicts were mostly too conventional and lacked a big draw to me in 2022. Sure, a soldier with PTSD or a gymnast with demanding parents are unique stories, but I had trouble feeling like the series was doing anything revolutionary and qualified as “must-see” entertainment.
Having taken about eight months off, I was unsure if I’d ever continue the series. Then, two weeks ago I decided to give it a chance. I figured running through the 35 episodes would fill up the next four months. Instead, it took 13 days. Upon pressing play, I was immediately entranced with a show that I felt understood itself much better and was doing something grander. While soap operas do this on more daunting timelines, In Treatment was essentially building on the ideas of season one and creating the existential crisis of Paul. Given that many believe their therapist has their best intention, having season two focus on a profession in doubt was a brilliant move. I would find the cracks beginning to appear. The series would spend more minutes outside of the sessions. Suddenly the idea of everything impacting the larger collage made sense. Plain and simple, In Treatment’s second go-around is quite possibly one of my favorite seasons of TV.
I think context helps to explain why I think everything comes together. The series aired between April and May of 2009. From an American perspective, it was the start of a new era. President Obama was elected on the platform of “Yes We Can” and “Hope.” There was optimism forming even amid a housing crisis and financial uncertainty. Obama would come in and save the day. What I find interesting is that even among the potential for change, there is self-reflection on how the past few years have formed us. The President Bush Era was a controversial one that was defined by war and uncertainty. The division couldn’t help but emerge as the idea of what it meant to be patriotic became a regular conversation point. The 2000s was a period of disillusionment, where The American Dream was brought into question constantly. With the chance of a restart, would there be any actual change?
A lot of the characters that Paul talks with during season two are stuck in that intermission. They have the chance to break free of their past and find something new to make them happy. There’s a search for revelations that they are capable of not being trapped in who they are. Even Paul ends the season with the revelation that he cannot hold session with fellow therapist Gina. For viewers, this is a difficult decision based on what happens throughout the season. Paul loses his father (with whom he has a rocky relationship), he is in the middle of a lawsuit over a former patient’s suicide, and he loses two patients due to possibly overstepping his boundaries. In a time when he probably should be turning to others for help, he chooses to go his own way. Is this the right call? I haven’t seen season three yet, but as far as a character arc it does feel necessary. He needs to step out of his comfort zone and remember where his passion and motivation are.
In an abstract sense, Paul symbolizes the start of Obama’s first administration. The series is too premature to have been a commentary, but there’s still the revelation of promising hope and now the need to deliver on it. What if the world actually is a terrible place and there’s no way to unlock the tools necessary to move forward? While Paul begins the season at a place of optimism, having moved into a new office that helps to remove the stigma of working from home, it’s fascinating to watch him lose his faith. He realizes that the potential for change is possible, but it’s not without acknowledging how difficult our past actions have been on us.
I recognize that among the four patients is a thematic connection. Together they symbolize some form of projection of Paul’s personal desires. They all vicarious reveal something about Paul’s character. It also doesn’t help that the viewer is made aware of the outside world. The season begins not with a patient sitting down, but with Paul getting a subpoena from Alex’s father over his belief that therapy drew his military son to suicide. The audience knows this to be false, but it’s difficult to convey without breaking confidentiality. That is a major hurdle throughout this season. How is Paul to remain professional when breaking confidentiality will allow him to help people in more ways than one. Speaking personally to his patients could allow him to connect on a deeper level. Connecting with his father might reveal truths that he’s desperately wanted to know. Even in the case of Oliver, a boy caught between a nasty divorce, adopting him might genuinely make him have a happier and more stable household. And yet, season two reveals the limits of therapy both for the patient and the therapist. Every session ends with a sense of dread that Paul can’t fulfill his job, and I think it makes for a brilliant run of TV.
I’ll continue by running down every patient in visiting order. Following the subpoena, Paul meets Mia, who will help him with the malpractice lawsuit. The interpersonal connection becomes difficult for obvious reasons. She is also a former patient, which leads to a complicated relationship within the session. As seen with Laura in the previous season, Paul could be at risk of bonding with her and forming romantic desires. In fact, it becomes complicated as Mia as she suggests her struggles with men and gets to some of my favorite moments of the season. When she discusses the heartbreak of growing older and not feeling loved, it conveys a struggle of aging into irrelevancy. It explains her later promiscuous behavior that leads to an unwanted pregnancy. Paul can only give advice on how to see the potential crisis of her actions. They’re all a call for help, and yet Paul cannot openly give her his opinion. The divide stands to bleed into the lawsuit, which remains unresolved by the end of the season. Can they push past emotions and focus on the legal battles? It’s a perfect contrast to Alex’s father, who sees legality as fulfilling emotions.
Second in the line-up is probably the most dynamic character of the four April. She is an architecture student who is suffering from two conflicting ideas. The more direct is a cancer diagnosis that she refuses to take chemo for. She needs convincing that it’ll be the ultimate good as she believes she’s strong enough to fight it naturally. Meanwhile, she is dealing with the struggle of being the older and more responsible sibling. She needs to be the strong one for her mother, herself emotionally unavailable, as well as her autistic brother. While I worry that this delves too much at times into “autism mom” stereotypes, the idea of taking care of a disabled brother is a fascinating premise and one I think goes in interesting directions. She discusses jealousy and attempts to understand his mindset. She rejects being empathetic despite being everything but. The pressures present one of the most compelling arcs of the season as the audience is left to determine whether Paul should step in and help her with chemotherapy. It’s clear that April is struggling with a sense of self and just needs someone to reach out and love her. Paul feels like the only person who does, and it makes for the most beautiful dynamic of the season.
It could be argued that Oliver is designed as the lynchpin of the season. As the child of a divorcing couple, he has a unique set of struggles. He is of two households with the father being more irresponsible. Much like Alex last season, Oliver is the byproduct of a Black father who wants to teach his son to be independent and thus doesn’t stock the fridge with food. Instead, he gives him money to buy his own food while secretly dating women and playing video games at all hours. There is a tragedy to Oliver that makes him easy to love. The answers seem obvious, but his father is as deserving of time as his mother. Paul tries to get the parents to find a shared plan, but they are sidetracked by grievances. Again, if Paul stepped in and provided a final say things may be better for Oliver. But he can’t. The best he can do is provide an outlet for Oliver, and the results are as heartbreaking as they are sweet. There is progress made, but it’s a long way to permanent change.
In all honesty, Walter may be the figure I most correlate to the Bush/Obama shift. As the owner of a major company who works thankless hours, he is suffering from a variety of stressors. His company is under fire for potentially harming the public. His daughter is overseas and might’ve been raped. There’s a sense of empty nest syndrome forming in his old age and it all leads to concern for his overall health. Like April, he believes that he can fight it on his own, but it becomes clear after hospitalization that it’s impossible. Given that he’s in his 60s, he’s an older client who is desperate for feedback on his problems. He is the most direct in calling on Paul to provide his personal opinion, and it is the breaking point. Paul sometimes becomes transparent. The revelation that Walter needs to learn to live for himself is the ultimate takeaway, and maybe the perfect message for the season. In realizing that worrying about others and prioritizing work, he’s taken his own life for granted. As with Obama’s “Yes We Can” campaign, it’s easy to believe that what Walter needs is to find hope in his life.
As one can guess, this all impacts Paul in significant ways. It is a difficult struggle because he knows that he loves his job, but finds it at times too taxing. As seen in the final episode of the season, he discusses how an uncomfortable chair only reveals itself after a month of sitting in it. What he needs is something new. I am very curious to see where things go, especially as next season marks the end of the original run. I’m sure that I’ll eventually watch the Uzo Aduba episodes to see how a contemporary run plays, but for now, I am fascinated by the journey of Paul. Those saying to watch every episode deserve my gratitude. It wasn’t clear at first, but slowly you see the patterns of a man who is burdened by his profession. He is supposed to provide happiness, but it’s not that simple. Obama couldn’t save the economy after years of conflicts with Bush. Whereas season one felt like it was more directly in the pit of despair, season two feels like it is attempting to break free of negative habits and find actual answers.
I know that there have been flashier hours on HBO. Even the recent run of Succession proves that they’re still an indomitable industry. However, I don’t know that I’ve realized the potential of the premium cable channel quite as well as I do with In Treatment. The lack of commercial breaks allows for deeper conversations to form. You get to delve into complicated characters with difficult subject matter and not be worried about censorship. This is a unique vision that produces something captivating. I love In Treatment now. I love how it gambled with the channel’s formatting and presented something so risky and new that unfortunately few have been able to replicate. It feels like a show that inadvertently progressed through subtext, making every conversation worthy of your time. It feels like the viewer’s level of interaction forms its own level of therapy. This is top-notch stuff. Gabriel Byrne is deserving of so much more attention than he gets because of this. I’m going to take a few days off, but I’ll expect to see him in his chair for season three very, very soon.
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