SPOILER ALERT: The following article contains plot details from “The Sensitive Kind,” the Season 1 finale of “The Lowdown,” now streaming on Hulu.
Journalist and bookstore owner Lee Raybon (Ethan Hawke), the crusading hero of “The Lowdown,” likes to call himself a “truthstorian,” a made-up title that nonetheless speaks to how Lee views unearthing the buried secrets of Tulsa, Oklahoma as a higher calling. In “The Sensitive Kind,” the Nov. 4 finale of the FX series’ eight-episode first season, Lee does dig up some serious dirt, finding proof that a white supremacist church has used a land deal as cover to bribe gubernatorial candidate Donald Washburg (Kyle Maclachlan). Donald’s late brother Dale (Tim Blake Nelson), a closeted eccentric who died in a suspicious “suicide,” tried to leave the land to his Native friend Arthur (Graham Greene, in one of the actor’s final performances before his death in September) — so Donald’s associate Frank (Tracy Letts), unbeknownst to him, hired goons to intimidate Dale with fatal results before killing Arthur himself.
It’s juicy stuff, but Lee opts not to put any of it in print in his final piece on the wealthy, storied Washburg family for a local magazine. Instead, he leverages a grieving, guilt-stricken Donald into giving the land to the Osage Nation, using his knowledge to achieve tangible results. The piece Lee publishes isn’t a Pulitzer-winning takedown, but a posthumous profile of the reclusive, kind-hearted Dale, a man who shares Dale’s love of crime writers like Jim Thompson and instinctive empathy for underdogs. The resolution isn’t exactly a dramatic payoff, but it is an emotional one after Lee’s previous attempts at muckraking led to lots of collateral damage — like Donald’s head of security Marty (Keith David) getting shot in the leg.
“For me, it was the most beautiful way to end the season,” says “The Lowdown” creator Sterlin Harjo, who previously led three seasons of the coming-of-age series “Reservation Dogs.” “Because it’s not perfect. It’s not all tied in a bow. It’s the more realistic version of how to end the show.”
Harjo first met Hawke on the earlier series, on which he cast the actor as the absentee father of Devery Jacobs’ perceptive Elora Danan. In moving from the rural reservation to the relatively dense Tulsa, where Harjo himself lives, “The Lowdown” became a love letter to many things: a city with a rich and painful history that’s recently gotten more attention; the power of journalism, an embattled industry that could use the shine; and its own leading man, for whom Harjo wanted to write a part reflecting the full breadth of his talents. The affection is palpable throughout, and contagious. “The Lowdown” has not yet been renewed for a Season 2, and I find myself evangelizing for one with all of Lee’s frantic enthusiasm.
Earlier this week, Harjo spoke with Variety from Tulsa to break down Hawke’s appeal, the season as a whole and his mixed feelings about his adopted hometown’s recent turn in the spotlight.
Courtesy of FX
The season ends with Lee Raybon discovering the truth of what happened to Dale Washburn — but rather than publish a searing exposé revealing all, he writes a heartfelt tribute to Dale. What does that choice reflect to you about Lee’s journey through the season?
The conflict in the end sort of goes directly against what (Lee)’s been saying this whole time, which is: I’m a truthstorian. He’s faced with this dilemma and trying to figure out, how does he make this wrong right? And in the end, a dead man’s wishes that are kind of pure, like the most pure — for Lee, that beats telling the exact truth, which is something that he’s willing to risk his life for, and also bring danger upon those that love him. He’s put everything at risk for the truth. And at the end, it’s like, well, can you put your morals, can you put your ego aside for the truth? That’s what he does in the end, to right this wrong and to fulfill this dead man’s wish. He pivots.
I think he does get to the truth, because this person that was misunderstood by everyone — through his own investigations, he found out this man was and why he was important. For me, it was the most beautiful way to end the season. Because it’s not perfect. It’s not all tied in a bow. It’s the more realistic version of how to end the show. The rules of this show and the way that I write it — it falls more in line with that than any other example that I can think of.
It almost feels like a conflict between Lee as a journalist and Lee as a storyteller — those two impulses and how they interact with one another.
One of the things that (Dale’s widow) Betty Jo says early in the show is, “He was a good man. He was a good man.” She’s repeating that in the mirror, and in the end, that’s what Lee writes about who that man was. But also, when she’s saying that, we cut to Lee in the van, and she says it again: “He was a good man.” So we’re also talking about Lee.
When she’s saying that, it’s also like, “Can your ego, can your journalistic endeavors, can everything take a back seat to being good?” In the end, that’s what he’s faced with. Like, are you going to do the right thing, or are you going to do the right thing? Because both of them are right. But one is more for himself. One is, I think, feeding his ego. He wants to be known as a truthstorian. And he won’t be known as that now, or this article is not the article that you were going to write that was going to cement your reputation as a truthstorian. You don’t get to write it now, and there’s just a lot of heavy things that I think he has to decide right at the end.
Lee’s conversation with Francis at the wedding felt like an echo of Ethan Hawke’s appearance in “Reservation Dogs” as Elora’s estranged dad. He’s so great at playing that kind of flawed earnestness. What was it like working with an established star in this series, compared to a cast of relative unknowns in “Reservation Dogs”?
It’s a strange thing. I’ve always thought I was going to work with Ethan Hawke. Maybe it’s because I just grew up watching his performances and movies. But once we met, everything kind of just fell into place and made sense. It was like we were old friends. I’ve been watching his movies for so long, I also kind of had ideas for writing for him: things that I know that he’s good at, or things that I haven’t seen him do that I wanted to see him do.
The thing is, he walks the line of being — people have said “insufferable,” I’ve heard that used a few times — and really charismatic and lovely to watch. You want to be around him, and you believe him. I think that sometimes being a parent, you’re also walking that line. Like, I was a kid once, and now I have to grow up, and I may have made some wrong decisions along the way. As a parent, you’re always trying to get back to being a good parent, but you’re sort of wrestling with the child that you used to be. Ethan portrays that so well. He’s also a person that can be likable, so likable, even when he’s doing something that might not be the most positive: smoking a joint, talking to his daughter about why he never reached out to her in “Reservation Dogs.” That’s not the right thing to do. You should have fought for your daughter, and you know you should have been there for her. But she believes him, and he’s approaching her with honesty, and he is likable. Ethan just can thread that needle. And I think that that’s a hard thing to do, and he does it. He does it in “The Lowdown” as well.
What were some of the things that you hadn’t seen him do before that you wanted to throw his way?
Ethan’s an artist, you know? Not that he hasn’t played artists, but he is a sort of literary beast. He’s a writer, and he is concerned with the truth. Ethan’s also a bit of a cowboy, and all of those things come together to form Lee Raybon. I also just think that Ethan’s funny. I wanted to write him a part where he could be heartbreaking and also funny at the same time. That’s sort of, I guess, the tone that I’m getting known for. Ethan’s the perfect actor for that tone. He can break your heart while making you laugh and putting himself into physical pain. He can do all of that. I’d seen him do everything, but I hadn’t seen him do everything in one character. I have love for him as a performer and as a person. I wanted to try to put that into a character.
Courtesy of FX
I have to confess that, as a writer myself, I felt almost pandered to by how much the show really loves the act of writing, the act of journalism, and specifically for local print media in a place like Tulsa.
Isn’t that crazy, though? That you have a slight feeling of being pandered to? Because it should be way more common. It’s amazing that we are starved for soldiers-of-journalism stories. We’re starved for that right now, because it feels so desperate and bleak. But I don’t think that that’s necessarily the truth. Whether it’s media, the internet, certain administrations — whether it’s any or all of those things that make us feel that way.
As much as I’m trying to tell a story about a person, I’m also trying to tell a story about what I love. I love books. I love movies. I love crime stories. I love the written word. I love being able to be tough and also literate. I love being around people who will fight to the last breath for what they believe in, but they also love poetry. Those things should not be separated from each other. Those things should be intertwined. I grew up in a period in the world when art did that. Art could be dangerous. Art could change things. We believed in it in a way that, I hope, we can still believe in it to this day. But I think that the show has a bit of nostalgia in it, because those ideas haven’t been celebrated a lot as of late. And I hope that that changes.
In addition to “The Lowdown,” there have been a few shows and films in recent years about Tulsa and its history, like “Watchmen” and “Killers of the Flower Moon.” As someone who’s actually from the area, what’s it been like to see these stories given that platform?
I was really happy about “Watchmen,” because it helped a lot of the work that people in the city were doing to get the word out about what happened at Greenwood, the race massacre. It helped propel that into the national dialogue. I was really happy about that. I also wished it was shot in Tulsa.
I have two sides of me. As much as I care about the story, I also care about the crew and the people that work here, and I care passionately about building a film community here. I’ve always done that here. I’m also a founder of the Tulsa Film Collective, which models itself off of the Austin Film Society. It’s about nurturing the local sort of film community. I’m a person that I left home, and I have such a big family and a big community that I build community wherever I go. It’s just what I do naturally. So Tulsa became my community. Like anything, I saw things that need to be improved on, and also things to celebrate — things that made us unique.
I love it here, and it’s been an interesting thing to watch all the — it actually hasn’t surprised me. I’ve been banging the drum for many years now. So to see other projects happening here, it’s almost, for me, been like, “What took you so long?” We have a unique history. You can stand in Tulsa, and you can see three different tribal territories. You can walk to three of them: Osage, Cherokee and Muskogee Creek. Just the other day, I woke up and I went down to a park, to an old tree that we have called the Council Oak Tree. The band of Muskogee people that founded Tulsa on the banks of the Arkansas River used that tree to hold Council under and have meetings. And the city of Tulsa just gave it back to the Muskogee Creek Nation. That isn’t happening everywhere.
We are a place that is very diverse, culturally. There’s a lot of darkness that formed this place. We’ve also fought through that darkness, and are in a period, I think, where healing is happening and a place where reconciliation is happening. That also needs to happen throughout America. But for Oklahoma, so much happened in such a short amount of time, so many different cultures were moved here at once, that for me, it became this microcosm, this model for the whole country, right in the middle of America. I have a lot of pride in this place, and I have a lot of pride in projects that are being made here.
A good friend of mine just happens to be making a film in Tulsa right now. I went to the Sundance Director’s Lab with this guy. He was my roommate, Dito Montiel. He texted me today and I’m gonna go get lunch with him. That would be unheard of 10 years ago, and so. And then, Ryan Armstrong, who’s in the show, who plays Francis, I got a text from her and her dad a week ago saying, “Let’s get together. We’re shooting a film in Tulsa.” I was like, “Oh, is it, my friend Dito’s film?” And they’re like, “No, it’s a different film.” So there’s two films shooting right now, and then there’s short films being made. A friend of mine, Lauren Waters, just made a short film. It’s this beautiful explosion of art that I’m just really happy that I’m a part of. And it’s what I always wanted to see happen here.
I know this show was originally pitched with the title “The Sensitive Kind,” and of course, it ends with a cover of the JJ Cale song. I wanted to ask why that song is significant to you, and why you felt it was resonant with the story you wanted to tell here.
Well, I love JJ Cale. He represents Tulsa. I love his music and the Tulsa sound in general. They were about taking rock and roll, country music, R&B, all of the influences that happen in Tulsa. Even Native influences, (like) Jesse Ed Davis. You know, Leon Russell claimed that the drum beat of the Tulsa sound came from Native songs. The influence of culture — JJ Cale’s music represents that.
“The Sensitive Kind,” you can take it a few ways. There’s top secret sensitive information that only someone that’s really looking hard can find, seeking the truth. But also what we’re talking about, the celebration of art, the celebration of people that care about literature and writing and journalism. A certain part of you, as an artist, you have to be sensitive. You also have to be tough, because it’s hard, but you have to be sensitive to the world around you to create and represent the world around you. I think that sometimes we forget who our most special people are, because they are sensitive and sometimes they don’t speak up, or sometimes they turn to alcohol and drugs because they don’t have the tools to handle how hard the world can be. All of that, for me, is cooked into that phrase and that title.
How detailed of a sense do you have of what a Season 2 might look like?
I have ideas for everything. I mean, I’ve got multiple seasons of shows I haven’t made in my head. So of course, there’s things kicking around in my head with this show. I think it depends if, do your readers want to see a Season 2? Do you want to see a Season 2?
I’m trying to do my part here!
I hope that it will happen one way or the other. This show or another show, I’m gonna keep making stuff. Sorry to be so coy.
I understand. It’s just the show is so modeled after these detective serials, so I could totally picture it in my head as a recurring thing.
Oh, I can too, of course. Look, “The Rockford Files” did it every episode. I think we could handle every season.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
