You never hear much about what happens after a renaissance. An extended period of creative sublimity shines bright like Will Smith's neuralyzer in Men in Black, erasing the memory of everything around it. But all good things surely come to an end. Raphael died from having too much sex on Good Friday; Isaac Newton probably killed himself eating a bunch of mercury.
It's an odd feeling then to live in the post-McConassaince, and watch Matthew McConaughey slide back into good-but-not-great territory. Between 2013 and 2014, McConaughey rose above the Texas Bro caricature the industry had saddled him with for a near decade to find himself in conversations with Leonardo DiCaprio and Christian Bale. Dallas Buyers Club made him the most beloved actor in Hollywood; his performance as Rust Cohle in HBO's True Detective had stuffy TV critics foaming at the mouth. And he seemed to relish it all, basking in the light after the darkness of Fool's Gold and Failure to Launch. His "Alright, alright, alright" catchphrase had a defiant tinge to it as he trotted it out time and again, at the SAG Awards, the Golden Globes, the Academy Awards.
The McConaissance passed with a whisper though. Since his massive success in Dallas Buyers Club and True Detective, McConaughey has been quiet, both in quantity and quality. Aside from the very medium Interstellar, the post-McConaissance has mostly been defined by the actor playing different versions of Rust Cohle—in Lincoln ads, on the University of Texas' practice field, and today, as a white savior type in Free State of Jones. How did the momentum of McConaughey's 2013/2014 run not fuel him for the rest of his career? How did it fizzle as quickly as it flared? Maybe people asked the same thing about artists in the 17th century.
But now, McConaughey might be looking to get the magic back. "I miss Rust Cohle, man," the actor told Rich Eisen on The Rich Eisen Show. "I miss watching him on Sunday nights—I miss watching True Detective on Sunday nights." That—an actor feeling wistful towards his career-making role—isn't very alarming or surprising. But the comment that followed is: "Yeah, I would [make another season of True Detective]. I've talked to Nic [Pizzolatto, True Detective creator] about it. It'd have to be the right context, the right way."
This reveal comes less than a month after a Hollywood Reporter story suggested that Pizzolatto, who has an overall deal with HBO, would likely focus on creating a new series for the network rather than pursuing another season of True Detective. It was news that was met with a sigh of relief.
Because here's the thing: no one needs more True Detective.
A third season of the show, one that either continues Rust Cohle's story (did he cut his ponytail!?!?) or rewinds to show his origin story, could go one of two ways. First, it could be as bad as the second season of True Detective, where every attempt to recapture the twisty, enigmatic darkness of season one was laughably embarrassing, where every line felt cloaked in Nic Pizzolatto's leather jacket. Or, it could just be prestige-styled uselessness. Regardless of how you feel about the first season of True Detective—I actually love it—you can't argue that more needs to be said about Rust Cohle. His was an entirely contained story. We were given long, satisfying explanations of what the character lived through before coming to Louisiana—a past full of daddy issues, death, and heartbreak—and the finale of True Detective concluded Cohle's story resolutely. After coming around on the topic of faith, and breaking through his bleak, nihilistic worldview, where else would Rust have to go? Is there any point in seeing his newfound hopefulness shaken and watching him go through the whole cycle all over again? Time is a flat circle, but damn, TV doesn't need to be.
True Detective, the first season at least, was a good, influential TV show. And Rust Cohle is, so far, the most iconic character of the 2010s. But more of a good thing isn't always a good thing. And after the abominable second season, one can't have too much faith in Nic Pizzolatto. Especially knowing that director Cary Fukunaga, who played a huge role in making season one what it was, is never coming back. It'd take a Herculean effort to make a third season of True Detective centered on Rust Cohle compelling, and Pizzolato does not have the range.
No one wants McConaughey to rediscover his 2014 swagger more than me, but giving us more Rust is not the way back to the promised land. At this point, we've seen McConaughey rub his pointer finger and thumb together while spouting koans way too many times. The character needs to die, and he needs to release Matthew McConaughey from whatever hex the actor's been under since True Detective. He can be on that Academy Award stage again, sporting that toothy, Texas grin while Daniel Day-Lewis' butthole clenches, but the only way that's going to happen is if he, Nic Pizzolatto, and everyone else just move on.
