Review: House of Cards

House of Cards. Netflix TV series. Politcial drama.

I've just got to the end of the second season of 'House of Cards', writes Brian Byrne. And it has left me wondering about myself. Probably a lot of people are feeling the same way.

No doubt about it, the Netflix-produced series has been gripping. Even for someone who saw, and enjoyed, the original mini-series on British TV a long time ago. In this version, Kevin Spacey has made the main character his own. And the writers have adapted the narrative not just well, but chillingly brilliant.

It wasn't just changing the name of the protagonist from Francis Urquhart to Francis Underwood. That was probably a necessity, as the Scottish surname wouldn't have translated well to the American political scene in which this latest 'House' has been set. It was how Spacey and the programme transformed the more urbane but equally venal English politician into a Deep South master manipulator of people, politics, and the democratic system.

Having gone through all 26 'chapters' in a fairly concentrated few bursts — the biggest gap was between the availability of the two seasons, otherwise I probably averaged three episodes at a sitting — I feel I was actually part of the whole story, which says a lot for what this kind of on-demand immersion TV viewing that Netflix has pioneered can do.

I also feel a little dirty after that immersion. And a little scared. Not because I watched too much TV at a time, but because I empathised with the main characters. The bad ones.

I won't go into the details of the series, there are probably quite a few of you out there who haven't watched any, or all of it yet. The short story is about a Member of Congress of the United States of America who feels shafted at not getting what he understood he deserved after supporting the man who became President. And how he goes about getting what he feels are his just desserts, and his revenge.

Francis Underwood and his wife and partner in scheming Claire manipulate, betray, contort, turn and return allegiances, make and lose, and even eliminate, friends without a thought, and generally are among the most vile of couples you could ever hope not to have in your circle of acquaintances. And certainly not want to have them against you in whatever is your life's direction or ambition.

Here's where my concerns about myself appear. I wouldn't want them as friends, acquaintances, or a million miles from my orbit because they could do more damage than the meteorite that triggered the wipeout of the dinosaurs on this planet. They have no conscience, are serial psychopathic, sexually predator and exploitative. And they smoke, albeit at an open window. They are also too athletic, as in running together at full belt through Washington at night, for my taste or interest.

But I couldn't help feeling something towards liking them. Knowing their absolute levels of low behaviour, and being very clear in my mind about the depth of depravity to which they had no problem reaching, I had to feel admiration for the way they (hey, they're characters, but still feel so real) operated. As individuals and as the kind of political mated team that could actually make it to the most powerful house and office in the world. I wanted them to succeed, and equally not to.

Power, or even the depiction of power and absolute power, is the ultimate seductive hormone. Which is why 'House of Cards' — even when we're involved only at the TV remote — represents what we all want, and don't want, to admit to becoming fascinated with.

Which explains why I'm a little scared of the kind of person I might be ...