“It’s terrifying to me, certainly, one of the great things about being a writer in this business for me, is you can leave your work behind and people can see it. The idea of being erased from history is scary to me.” — Terence Winter, Creator of Boardwalk Empire

I was very late on the show Boardwalk Empire. The main reason for this is because I refuse to pay for HBO on the basis that I already have enough monthly subscriptions (so many that I am starting to lose track of them!). Recently though (thanks to Amazon Prime), I finished the series and I ended up (not surprisingly) really enjoying the show on a number of levels. For one, I have an affinity for historical fiction, especially when actual historical people are used as characters. This was the case in Boardwalk Empire, which is essentially a show about organized crime during the prohibition era in the United States (1920-1933). Among the historical figures that make appearances in the show are the likes of Al Capone, Lucky Luciano, and Arnold Rothstein. Beside the wonderful, multi-dimensional character development, writing and storytelling, I also love the costume design in this show; it’s about as “gangster” as you can get!

Anyway, a major theme that runs throughout the show (which I picked up early on) is the notion of legacy and/or memory. The main character in the show, Nucky Thompson (apparently based on the infamous real life Atlantic City criminal, Nucky Johnson) struggles the entire show with the question of who he is and what he wants to leave behind (his legacy). Early on in the show we see Nucky as a fairly legit Atlantic City politician, who occasionally breaks the rules here and there (e.g. buying off police, rigging elections, you know typical political stuff…), but slowly becomes more and more inclined to “do what needs to be done,” as he charges full-steam into the business of illegal bootlegging at the beginning of prohibition. Even as Nucky begins building his crime empire, though, we’re exposed to the kinder, nobler side of Thompson, the person who still thinks that it’s possible to live a normal life as a family man and who seemingly wants to be remembered (or thought of at least) as a kind, generous, and fair person: he treats all people with respect, gives money away to needy people at the drop of a hat, and even goes the extra mile to help Margret (his eventual wife) out of her tough situation with her abusive husband. As the show progresses, however, money becomes the main driver for Nucky Thompson, and in the fifth and final season, when prohibition is nearing it’s end and Nucky begins to rub shoulders with famous “legit” businessmen like Joseph Kennedy, he begins to understand what all the famous American capitalists have known for quite a long time, that in a meaningless, dog eat dog Universe, only one thing matters in life: your legacy. In the series finale during a flashback scene, Nucky’s quasi-mentor, The Commodore, makes this notion abundantly clear to a young Nucky, who wants a promotion that he feels he worked hard for and deserves, when he lectures:

“What do you think it says on Cornelius Vanderbilt’s headstone?…whatever it is, it doesn’t say he worked hard. It’s what you leave behind. That’s the only thing anyone’s gonna’ know about you…In the end, we do what we have the nerve for or we disappear.”

It’s clear that The Commodore’s depraved words, obviously encouraging amorality, stuck with young Nucky throughout his life, as we see him make one moral comprise after another, perhaps beginning with his biggest compromise of all: the betrayal of a young orphan girl (Gillian) who he swore to protect but who is ultimately sold to The Commodore as a sex slave. This despicable act essentially sets Nucky on his path of moral-nihilistic indifference which, as we see in the final scene of the show, eventually catches up with him…

On the one hand I can identify with what Terrence Winter, the creator of Boardwalk Empire, says above regarding the frightening idea of being erased from history. It is scary to think about how one’s entire life could be forgotten 50 years after they die, as if one had never existed. What would be the point of working hard, of helping others, of doing…well…anything? Of course at the root of this fear is an ideological assumption, I believe, and it’s on marvelous display in Boardwalk Empire, and in the capitalist/materialist/individualistic/meritocratic mindset that forms the membrane in which the entire story takes place. I’m reminded here of an older book by Steven Messner and Richard Rosenfeld called Crime and the American Dream, in which they describe how the American, capitalist, profit-driven economy creates a society that is not only “conducive to conflict and crime,” but also point out that the American Dream has a dark side: the obsession with making money blinds people to seeing other ways of defining and achieving success. In other words, poor and working class people who are infected with the American “fetishism of money” are left with only unlawful ways to seek success in a capitalistic society. According to Messner and Rosenfeld, people in American society are taught from birth to embrace this doctrine of material gain and that American society expects that all individuals should achieve, or at least pursue, the American Dream regardless of their status in society. Essentially, poor and working classes are  set up to fail by the ruling class and punished by the legal system when they do fail.

It’s no wonder then that all of this meritocratic, materialistic thinking produces anxiety, despair, and hopelessness in people; in fact, it’s actually a miracle if one doesn’t feel despair and hopelessness in a society like this. Add to this the disenchanted “new mechanical philosophy” that was omni-present in the early 20th century in which Boardwalk Empire takes place (and still is omi-present today I’d argue) and things become worse. As philosopher David Griffin points out, the new mechanical philosophy is intrinsically an “anti-animistic philosophy,” which views God as either transcendently/supernaturally removed or as simply dead, holds that nature is void of experience/subjectivity and inherently mechanical, but sees us civilized humans and our immortal souls at the top of the hierarchy as the lone exceptions of course (if that doesn’t cause an existential crisis I don’t know what will!). This anthropocentrism, particularly, comes through loud and clear for me in any period piece when we’re shown how removed from nature we intentionally make ourselves (it’s like looking in a mirror!); like I said above, in Boardwalk Empire the costumes are fantastic, but wearing long dresses and long sleeve five piece suits in the middle of summer on the beach couldn’t be a better reminder of our insecurity and feeble desire to separate ourselves from our naked and primitive non-human animal family.

Boardwalk Empire is, conclusively, a fantastic show and I’m very interested to see what Winter does next (Vinyl looks cool). I must confess that I have loved gangster films for quite a while; lines from Goodfellas and Casino are still burned into my memory. Aside from all the superficial tough guy action that certainly appeals to my primal red meme sensibilities, I’ve always sort of viewed the gangster character as an anti-hero, someone who rebels against the norm and refuses to abide by strict societal rules but who, at the same time, also adheres to an internal code, valuing family, friends and honor above all else. But I’ve never given much thought to the theme of legacy/memory in connection with gangsters that Boardwalk Empire brings up. It’s fantastic stuff to think about, and raises additional questions for me about fame/infamy (Capone definitely left his infamous mark on history) as well as additional theological questions about the after-life (which should probably be another post). However, one of my favorite lines from the show (which is probably one of the most popular) sums it up quite well, I think. In the very first season Nucky tells his wife Margret that “We all have to decide how much sin we can live with.” I think this line is probably Nucky’s mission statement, and despite how much one might want to dismiss its validity, we can’t deny that it also rings true in so many, many ways.

Tags:boardwalk empirelegacymemorynihilismorganized crimeterrence winter