HBO drama seems headed for a wipeout

With its rich characters, the short-term series was original and brassy.

By FRAZIER MOORE

AP TELEVISION WRITER

NEW YORK — “The end is near,” says John from Cincinnati.

That’s what he’s been saying since the HBO drama “John From Cincinnati” began, though with scant supporting evidence. John isn’t big on details.

Even so, he’s been proved right. At least, one way. “John From Cincinnati” will conclude its 10-episode run at 9 p.m. today. The end for sure is near.

What will the end bring? Maybe some answers about the Yost surfing family and other eccentrics in Imperial Beach, Calif., during a very peculiar few days. (Series stars include Rebecca De Mornay, Bruce Greenwood, Brian Van Holt, Luke Perry, Ed O’Neill, Greyson Fletcher and Austin Nichols as John.)

Maybe there will be an explanation for why, these days, long-ago surfing great Mitch Yost sometimes rises several inches off the ground.

And maybe an accounting for how Mitch’s teenage grandson, Shaun, seemed to breathe life back into a dead pet bird — and how, with Shaun left paralyzed and brain-dead from a surfing accident, the bird was able to restore him to life and full health.

Questions

Maybe the end will, at last, shed light on the mysterious stranger known up to now as John — just who he really is and where he’s from (don’t bet on Cincinnati).

John seems to be the cause of all the miraculous, befuddling goings-on. He seems divinely touched, the sort of guy whose savagely inflicted stab wounds healed right away. He also seems to be mentally challenged, or an idiot savant, with his choirboy wholesomeness.

Co-created by David Milch, “John From Cincinnati” echoes his earlier HBO series, “Deadwood,” a 19th-century Western teeming with elliptical, thorny storytelling and f-word-studded lyricism.

As on “Deadwood,” whose scramble for wealth was framed as a model of America’s, “John” also addresses the profit motive, though in contemporary terms.

But why is the divinely inspired John packing a platinum credit card with no upper limit? Why, on “John,” must a similar entrepreneurial spirit be at war with spiritualism?

What’s up with all that mystic mumbo-jumbo? How come Mitch goes up in the air?

Some things I know and some things I don’t. One thing I know: “John From Cincinnati” has been a confounding exercise for me as a viewer. It’s a series too murky and withholding for its own good — or that of many would-be fans.

Applause for its originality. For its brass. For the music of its raunchy dialogue (sorry, nothing quotable here).

And, most of all, for its collection of characters. No, they aren’t the equal of those who populated “Deadwood” — not as novel, rich or outrageous. But the people of “John From Cincinnati” share with one another a trait whose pervasiveness has me maddeningly fixated: They, with almost no exception, are quite mad.