Big Love, a show mostly known for making men incredibly tired (three wives, no beers), decided to throw its first-born son and Oedipus of Latter-day Saints, Ben, into a Straight Edge mosh last night. Granted, the parallel between Mormonism and Straight Edge is appreciated: both creeds being relatively new and radically bastardized from its original tenets (I'm looking at you, Trinity ). But as a viewer who was once "edge" but now ravaged by rent and bosses, I hope this particular subplot is early to finish (already being late to start) and ends as quickly as Ben (played by Douglas Smith) literally washes his hands of the movement at the episode's conclusion.
Brief but Tedious History: Straight Edge is based on a song written in 1981 by Ian MacKaye (enigmatically entitled "Straight Edge"). Penned when the musician was a gawky, frog-throated teen fronting the hardcore band Minor Threat, the song lists the personal benefits of not doing drugs. As MacKaye recounted in a 1997 interview "It was just the title of a song that i [sic] wrote. I guess I coined the phrase but certainly never intended to start a movement." (Unfortunately, no online resource is available for Jesus' thoughts on John Smith.)
Given the efficiency of our technological age, the corruption of MacKaye's ethos into a dogmatic creed only took 26 years (rather than the nearly 1900 years between Christ and Mormonism). Violence stemming from those bathed in the dim light of the edge has since led Reno and Salt Lake City police to classify Straight Edge as a gang. What was once a safe-haven for children rebelling against hippie parents, has now become a quick way to play Ozzfest, and a niche-market moneymaker for those young boys who are just so, so mad.
But is it really a gang? As much as I fear middle-class teenagers, I have never seen a Straight Edge/Latin Kings rivalry in my city. Eschewing drugs, especially the sale of drugs, tends to limit a gang's resources. Straight Edge is still what it always has been -- a children's crusade. All violent acts are fueled by a pubescence that is eventually quashed by aging (A point clearly stated in the last chapter of teen-thug favorite A Clockwork Orange - viddy well, me brootha?).
Enter Big Love's cringe-worthy take on the matter. The series' first crime is being outdated - the parental fear of Straight Edge was so 2005. (At least move onto the current media-driven fear of Emo - another music genre created, in part, by MacKaye.) But viewers must be wary of a far more egregious offense. If the edge continues to entice Ben beyond one episode, "Big Love" will begin romanticizing an insignificant fringe group and becoming what viewers could only describe as Utah History X. (What is the Straight Edge equivalent of a skinhead dunking a basketball?) Big Love should stick to what it does best: scenes of hot Mormon sex and the overall awesomeness of Harry Dean Stanton.