‘The Diplomat’ and Character Grit
Ambassador Wyler is a Mary Sue wrapped up in a nice coating of illusory flaws.
The age of prestige television may be over, but the age of prestige-like television lumbers on forever, eternal1. There’s so, so much content out there and most of it has at least a minimal sheen of prestige about it, whether it’s an A-list cast, a genius writer, or simply so many hundreds of millions of dollars coating its silky, shiny skin that it just looks like money. Netflix’s The Diplomat is a sort-of Venn diagram of those prestige-y things: The cast is pretty solid, the showrunner (Debora Cahn) has solid credits behind her, and it looks pretty good2!
It’s a fun show. The basic premise is that career diplomat Kate Wyler (Keri Russel), an experienced, smart woman who has been working behind the scenes with her ambassador husband Hal (Rufus Sewell) for decades, is suddenly named ambassador to the United Kingdom. Shocked, Kate soon learns that the appointment is a sort-of test run for the President to name her his new Vice President, and she quickly finds herself working overtime, knee-deep in various skulduggeries that ambassadors normally don’t get involved in3.
The show has that breathless, exhausting energy that sometimes permeates shows dealing with international politics and espionage—several episodes have the sweaty feel of marathons, with everyone always racing to and fro and making breathless speeches4. Still, it’s a fun ride that’s probably just a hair too long at eight episodes in the first season, and Russel and Sewell’s charm alone could power a city5. It’s so breathlessly paced and crammed full of rapid-fire policy discussions, in fact, that you might fail to notice something really irritating: Kate Wyler’s a bit of a Mary Sue.
You Know Who You Can’t Fire? Cinderella
A Mary Sue (or a Marty Sue), for those who are not steeped in writerly talk, is a character who is effortlessly good at things and generally liked and respected, always virtuous and more or less free from flaw6. A Mary Sue is a bad character and often represents a writer inserting themselves into the story, perhaps subconsciously. They’re dull because they’re too perfect.
Superficially, you might not think Kate Wyler is a Mary Sue, but that’s because the show is smart enough to scuff her up a bit and give her a sheen of grit that obscures her essential Mary Sueness. Kate has messy hair, despises the niceties of the diplomatic life, hates to dress up, and often speaks when she shouldn’t. Technically, those are flaws, but they are the sort of tiny, minor flaws that tend to accentuate just how adorably brilliant Kate Wyler is in literally everything else7.
Within days of arriving at a “tiffany” diplomatic posting she’s completely unprepared for, Kate begins solving problems. She is the smartest person in every room—literally every room. She manages powerful men and women with aplomb, sees through her shifty husband’s schemes with weary clarity, and winds up leading every effort. In the context of the show you are expected to imagine that without Kate Wyler’s presence the whole world would quickly devolve into chaos and bloodshed. Experienced, powerful politicians consistently act like befuddled amateurs8 while Kate expertly analyzes situations, reaches out to myriad secret contacts, and manipulates world leaders into doing what is obviously best, which is whatever plan she has devised9.
The idea that Kate Wyler is the sole competent person in the room is fun, but it’s also extremely Mary Sue-ish, which in turn could make her a little boring, because peolple who always have the answers are boting. Competence, like happiness, is boring. So the writers have saddled her with a list of unimportant “flaws” that give her that aforementioned superficial grit. And it works pretty well, for a while.
Seeing the Trick
The problem with tricks like rolling your Mary Sue character in grit is that there are diminishing returns. If you see a magic trick often enough, it loses its magic10. You might even glimpse the sleight of hand and props that make the trick possible, removing all the magic from the experience.
This is what happens with Kate Wyler. Initially, her rumpled appearance and refusal to wear designer dresses as requested is charming and seems to offer a bit of imperfection, a rough edge. But after watching her be the smartest badass in the room over the course of five or six hour-long episodes, you can’t help but realize that she’s actually perfect, because even her “flaws” are charming11. She’s smart, sexy, competent, worldly, connected, and funny, so her inability to comb her hair or eat a proper meal shift into the category of cute tic instead of actual flaw12.
And it’s exhausting. Not only does the show sprint along at a breakneck pace (there have already been four or five crises that require dozens of phone calls, in-person meetings, and recitations of geographical locations I’ve never heard of13), but every scene follows the same basic pattern: Crisis arises, Kate expresses weariness, information is gathered and people do various unexpected things, and then Kate walks everyone through what Must Be Done and eventually everyone agrees and then tells Kate how good she is at this and speculates that she might just be the Golden God Vice President Who Will Unite Us All Under the Banner of Competence14.
I may have made that last bit up. But the point stands: After a few episodes you’re not exactly on the edge of your seat with this show. You know that Kate—with adorably messy hair15—will come up with a smart solution, you know she’ll have to convince a bunch of sullen men that she’s right, and you know she will be right. Like I said, a fun show, but as a character she gets a little ... boring.
Maybe I’m just jealous because the last time I was the most competent person in the room I was about six years old and the issue at hand was eating crayons.
Next week: Barry gets religion.
Much like my pantsless jokes, which are evergreen and always appreciated.
Especially the cast, which is uniformly hot. No one’s complaining about this, but it’s notable. They normally throw in a slightly-less hot person in the mix just to make us Normals feel better, but this time they were like, eh, screw you Normies, here’s a cast so hot you’ll never recover your self esteem.
This is where I admit that my knowledge of what ambassadors do comes almost entirely from this very show. It sure seems like an exciting gig!
Who knew that so many aspects of international relations depended on how drunk everyone was at a specific moment! Actually, scratch that, I think I already knew that bit.
Seriously, I want to be these two when I grow up.
Is “Effortlessly Good at Things, Generally Liked and Respected, Always Virtuous, and More or Less Free from Flaw” the title of my memoir? We’re workshopping it. Until then we’re testing #FreeFromFlawJeff. Feel free to jump in there on the socials!
Sort of how my habit of walking out of the house without pants isn’t so much a flaw as an adorable quirk that everyone is delighted by. And also kind of my brand, you know?
Admittedly, after the last few years of U.S. and U.K. politics, this no longer seems as ridiculous as it might have.
One suspects Kate could plan one hell of a party.
Unless it’s my trick where I drink an entire bottle of bourbon, light one of my belches on fire, and then wake up in Ecuador wearing someone else’s pants. That trick, I am assured by all of my friends and several law enforcement officers, never gets old.
My ears are burning again! No, seriously, this is becoming worrying.
Sort of like my preternatural ability to fall asleep under any circumstances, including in the dentist’s chair while they’re drilling my teeth (true story and yes, there may be something medically wrong with me).
Again, after the last few years this is no longer as unbelievable as I wish it was.
That the Vice President of the United States might actually be relevant someday is perhaps the most comical aspect of the show, Dick Cheney aside.
Why Keri Russell’s hair is “adorable” and mine is “crazy” is a mystery that may never be solved.
The subtitle had me wondering if Mary Sure was some kind of spinoff trope.
I’ve been watching a lot more British shows lately because the casts are so full of awkwardly shaped schlubs that I’ve become convinced I’m British.