True Detective is (probably) coming back and it’s got a brand new face and that face is fine as hell. Mahershala Ali (Moonlight, House of Cards, Hidden Figures, Luke Cage) is in talks to star on the third season of the HBO drama.
Entertainment Weekly reports:
During Wednesday’s Television Critics Association’s press tour in Pasadena, California, HBO president of programming Casey Bloys confirmed the network has a deal with the Oscar-winning Moonlight actor to star in a potential third season of the anthology series.
Casey Bloys says he’s read five scripts so far and that HBO is currently looking for a director. The addition of Mahershala to the cast is great news, since the last season was one of the least sexy shows I’ve seen for a long time. I’m looking forward to Mahershala walking around in tight detective slacks, sleeves all rolled up, giving just a glimpse of bicep as he leans down to poke around at some evidence with his pen. My dream partner for him is Nicolas Cage. I think they’d be an amazing team if Nic can dial it back a notch. But I’m clearly getting ahead of myself here. As much as I loved the first season, season two betrayed me like no other. I won’t put myself through that again.
Being a fan of True Detective is like being in a bad relationship. It’s great at the beginning when you’re just starting to feel each other out. He’s attractive and complicated, but tends to go off on random tangents you can’t quite follow. He’s mysterious and full of surprises and yeah, he’s a little scary, but kind of in a good way. But just when things are getting really interesting * wham!*, he disappears for a year and a half and you don’t know if he’s coming back. You’re sad, but you move forward with the memories of the time you had together. Every once in awhile you see a commercial for a Lincoln Continental and think of him. You chuckle to yourself when you realize how you thought he was so deep at the time, but in hindsight, you know he was kind of pretentious and was always high as fuck. You’re over him and that is fine.
But then… you start hearing rumors that he might be coming back. He’s been in rehab or something, and he’s a brand new man. You hear he’s more in touch with his feminine side now. He calls you and tells you he’d like to get together for a coffee. You really want to see what he’s like now, so you agree; just one coffee and that’s it. You meet him when you always did, Sunday night at 10:00 and there he is: He looks, ok. Not nearly as good as he used to, but he looks ok. You’re kind of bored, but you stay anyway and finish your coffee. You go home, you’re not sure if you want to see him again. You have a lot more going on on Sunday nights than you used to. Your side-piece Game of Thrones is back and you’re not sure you want to invest the time in both relationships. But, inevitably you remember the old times and the possibility that things could be good again. So you’re sucked back in. Before you know it, you’ve been through 8 weeks of living hell. It’s a blur. You’re not sure what happened, but there was a lot of knife play and Vince Vaughn’s gut and so. many. bad. wigs. And you vow, never again.
Ok maybe, I might just pick up the phone.