Television review: ‘The Sunset Limited’

Despite America’s current preoccupation with, and politicization of, religion, there are not many national forums in which the nature of God and faith are discussed with any passion or depth. On television, an undertone of spirituality versus science lurks beneath the character conflicts on certain shows; the new Oprah network has taken this to its obvious limit by launching a reality program in which alleged miracles are investigated by a believer and a nonbeliever. Only a few shows — Fox’s “House,” HBO’s “Big Love” — discuss God and the implications of faith with any regularity. Even then, the prophets are rarely brought into it; any reference to Jesus has become narrative shorthand for conservative evangelicals, and mentioning Muhammad brings its own set of PR problems.

For that reason alone, HBO’s “The Sunset Limited” is worth watching. As the equally formidable Tommy Lee Jones and Samuel L. Jackson circle each other in Cormac McCarthy’s play examining the nature of belief, one is reminded of all that is not being said on television. Fundamental conversations about the human condition, about what we need and do not need to make the most of our mortal lives once drove our artistic and philosophical discourse. Now, more often than not, they are boiled down to chatter about commitment and tolerance, or the importance of friendship. If television is any guide, we are much more concerned with our weight and the state of our self-esteem than the cultivation, or even existence, of our immortal souls.

The two men whom McCarthy calls simply Black and White are way beyond that. Jackson’s character, Black, a convicted murderer, has just saved Jones’ character, White, from taking a dive in front of the Sunset Limited train. He has brought White, whom he refers to as Professor, back to his bare-bones apartment in the hopes of persuading him not to try it again. He tries to accomplish this by offering the angry, suffering man the prospect of eternal life. Which is precisely what White is trying to avoid.

“If I thought that in death I would meet the people I’ve known in life, I don’t know what I’d do,” he says at one point. “That would be the ultimate horror.”

Jones’ White, who once believed in the power of art, now believes in nothing but the ability of the Sunset Limited to provide him lasting silence and peace. His intellect has rendered him contemptuous and full of self-satisfied despair. “Western civilization ended with the smoke of Dachau,” he says. Black, meanwhile, embraces Christian simplicity — his apartment is bare, he says, because if he owns anything, “the junkies will just steal it,” and he admits that he doesn’t have “an original thought in my head,” that all he now knows and follows comes directly from the Bible.

Both actors are, not surprisingly, phenomenal to watch. Jones, who also directed, is not as comfortable in the beginning with the lengthy dialogue — he is very much a less-is-more actor, and here McCarthy is experimenting with more being more. But this being TV, the actors can use their faces as effectively as their intonations, and Jones’ face is a great American landscape; emotions pass over it like the shadows of clouds driven by a prairie wind. Jackson, meanwhile, is in his element, moving through concern to rage to bafflement with the speed and breath-catching grace of an Olympic downhill skier.

“The Sunset Limited” is, in essence, a study in surrender. As such, it is, perhaps, a bit too attached to its own belief in the power of language — the men talk at each other hard and continuously, rarely scooting over to make room for passing silence or even momentary pause. But, mercifully, it offers no easy answers, or any answers at all. “Thought-provoking” is an overused term in criticism, and one that can camouflage many sins. But here, for better and worse, is the real deal.

mary.mcnamara@latimes.com