Neptune Noir: Unauthorized Investigations into Veronica Mars

by Rob Thomas

  This is far less common than it used to be; I'm not sure any scripted shows still do it, though reality shows do. I'm very glad that the producers of Veronica Mars didn't try it, though, because the vehicles here add significant flavor to the show and tell the viewer something about the characters.

  Everyone on Veronica Mars drives-which is hardly surprising in modern America, but if you think about it, it's far from universal on TV shows. Does anyone on, say, How I Met Your Mother own a car? Can you identify the make of a single character's vehicle (excluding Dr. House's motorcycle) on House, even though it's set well out in the New Jersey suburbs? Buffy Summers didn't have a car; the sisters on Charmed teleported everywhere; the doctors on Grey's Anatomy apparently drive but we almost never see the vehicles. Cars are far less visible in TV Land than in the real world.

  And when cars do appear, especially if they're important story elements, they tend to be so eccentric as to almost be characters in their own right-Batman's Batmobile, the General Lee on The Dukes of Haz- zard, or even Giles's battered 1963 Citroen on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. You can find fan Web sites devoted to these vehicles, just as if they were characters. In the most extreme cases, the cars are characters, like KITT on Knight Rider or the 1928 Porter on My Mother the Car.

  But on Veronica Mars that's not the case. The cars are cars, all recognizable as real world vehicles, neither ignored nor elevated to iconic status. They're not exaggerated, but they're important. There are as many scenes in the high school parking lot as there are in class, as many scenes in cars as in homes. Everyone owns a car, and everyone cares about his or her car. Each one fits the character's personality and circumstances.

  For example, Veronica herself drives a Chrysler LeBaron convertible, an American classic "fun" car, a car that represents the stereotypical laid-back California lifestyle-wind in the hair, sun on the face. It's not a sports car; she's not into speed and power for its own sake. It's not an import; she's an all-American girl. Nothing too expensive; she's not an 09er, not one of the rich kids. It's black and white, not anything too flashy. A good car, representing the good life-but it's a 1998 model, not anything recent, because not only was her family never really rich, but that good life all went away when Lilly Kane was murdered. Veronica's car is a leftover, a relic, a reminder of what she used to have.

  It's also convenient for the writers to have her driving a convertible, of course; she can hop in and out as the script demands, or keep the top up when needed. She even has a blue cover she can pull over it when she needs privacy.

  What she doesn't have is a cute name for her car, or any special gadgets or modifications. It's not a character. It's a LeBaron. She calls it "my car," or, at least once, "the LeBaron."

  Name another TV show where the protagonist refers to his or her car by model. I can't think of one. But plenty of people in the real world do exactly that.

  The other major characters are also all appropriately wheeled. Duncan Kane, being the rich but quiet sort that he is, drives a new gray Mercedes M-Class SUV, redolent of power, quality, and class.

  Logan Echolls drives an SUV as well, but it's much flashier-a bright yellow Nissan Xterra, advertised as a fun car. Hardly in the same price range as Duncan's Mercedes, but newer and more costly than Veronica's LeBaron and able to hold all his buddies.

  Why SUVs? The traditional expensive toy for rich Californians is a sports car, of course, not an SUV-the sort of sports car that Aaron Echolls, that walking collection of unfortunate Hollywood cliches, drives. Aaron of course drives a high-end sports car, specifically an Aston-Martin; the only surprise is that it's cream-colored, rather than cherry red, and that we never see him with a blonde in the passenger seat, showing off her cleavage. Aaron plays the part of the movie star to the hilt, and loves it.

  But Duncan and Logan don't drive sports cars. Duncan isn't into any sort of unnecessary display; he likes his privacy, and doesn't want to show off. The quiet gray SUV suits him. But he still wants quality, and isn't trying to hide his money any more than he wants to flaunt it, so his SUV is a Mercedes.

  It might be theorized, actually, that Duncan didn't pick the car out himself, that his parents bought it for him; apparently he shared it with Lilly, which would seem unlikely if he'd bought it on his own. (It's a safe bet Lilly didn't buy it-there's no way she'd have chosen something so tame.) Probably Jake and Celeste Kane chose a "safe" car for the son they were determined to protect. Still, whoever chose it, it fits Duncan's personality.

  Logan, meanwhile, is determined not to be like his father-or anyone else, for that matter. That yellow Xterra stands out anywhere, and proclaims Logan's refusal to conform to anyone's expectations.

  Another point about an SUV-there's plenty of room to get cozy with a girlfriend without bumping heads or worrying about impaling yourself on the gearshift, which is not generally the case with a sports car. Aaron Echolls, of course, doesn't worry about such details, since he's got his mansion where he can take his girlfriends-including a pool house wired for video....

  Moving on to the parents of other Neptune High students, Keith Mars drives a drab Ford sedan-but then, as a private eye, he needs something unobtrusive. I've never managed to make out just what sort of Ford it is, only that it's dark and nondescript.

  The last time we saw her, Lianne Mars drove a beat-up 1971 Plymouth Satellite Sebring because she'd been beaten down by life-it's a cheap old car, and indicated that she didn't much care about anything anymore.

  Jake Kane drives a spiffy new Land Rover-expensive, tough, slightly exotic, but not showy or frivolous.

  Celeste Kane's car is actually the first parent's car we see-a red Jaguar. She does fit the red sports-car stereotype, showy and expensive, complete with a vanity plate reading KANE2 that lets Veronica identify it immediately and beyond question when she sees it parked outside the Mars Investigations office. This car may be why Aaron Echolls's car isn't red-they wouldn't want to confuse anyone. Though anyone who can't tell a Jaguar from an Aston-Martin....

  But then, Lynn Echolls drives a red sports car, too-a red Dodge Viper, license ECHOLLS2. Nowhere near as nice a car as Celeste's jag, though; it's sort of a cheap imitation, right down to the license plate. It's nowhere near as nice a car as Aaron's Aston-Martin, either; Aaron clearly keeps the best for himself, and Lynn has to make do with what he allows her.

  And then there's Eli "Weevil" Navarro, the outsider, the troublemaker, who doesn't have a car at all for most of the first two seasons; instead, he rides a motorcycle.

  Someone obviously worked these vehicular choices out carefully, and didn't just grab whatever was on the studio lot, but even so, there's no deliberate emphasis on the choices. No one ever says, "Nice car!" or the like; cars are recognized, certainly, but no one makes a point of commenting on them.

  Furthermore, throughout the series cars act as their owners' standins, as well as reflecting their personalities. In the pilot, when Veronica planted a bong in Logan's locker, Logan's father punished him by taking away the Xterra (though apparently only briefly, as it was back by the next episode). We found out later in the series that Aaron is perfectly capable of taking a belt to his son, and probably of far worse, but in this case he chose a less direct punishment, one that seemed to get to Logan just as effectively as a beating.

  When Logan wanted to retaliate against Veronica for that stunt, he didn't touch her; he smashed out the headlights of her LeBaron with a tire iron. Then, when Weevil came to her defense, he did hit Logan, but he also took that same tire iron to the hood of the Chevy SUV Logan and his friends came in, even though he was told it wasn't Logan's. He seemed to feel that if someone hit Veronica's car, then a car must be hit in retaliation, even if it was not the car he'd have preferred.

  A few episodes later, in "The Girl Next Door" (1-7), when the temporarily allied Logan and Weevil wanted to retaliate against Mr. Daniels, the teacher who had been giving them a hard time, they did so by impaling his car on the school's flagpole-and the phallic symbolism
, the obvious implied "fuck you," is hard to miss.

  Incidentally, the car in question is an ugly little blue econobox, probably a Geo Metro, which nicely suits Daniels's rather self-righteous and fun-squelching attitude.

  This car-as-proxy business lets the show's creators depict violence without showing blood, or without getting into the typical Hollywood fantasy of two guys trading punches and then walking away unhurt-whacking someone's car shows the capability for serious violence without making one character an irredeemable bastard and without putting anyone in the hospital. That's a useful tool for the writers!

  It's hardly the only use they have for cars. Cars are all over the series. They not only reflect and stand in for their owners-they represent wealth and freedom to their owners, as well.

  In "You Think You Know Somebody" (1-5), Troy faked the theft of his father's BMW 740i in order to (a) steal the car, and (b) use it to retrieve the $8,000 worth of illegal steroids he'd stolen from his friend Luke and stashed outside of town, in a scheme to get away from parents he saw as stifling him.

  Mac's motive for sending out the purity test in "Like A Virgin" (18) was to raise money to buy herself a new car-which she did, replacing her ancient and barely functional 1963 Ford Ranchero, which didn't suit her at all, with a spiffy new VW Beetle that nicely reflects who she is.

  Terrence Cook collects fancy cars, which reflect his wealth and success more than his own identity-but then, he identifies himself pretty strongly as wealthy and successful. He rents a hangar to store them, which is where incriminating evidence was planted-his display of wealth made him a target. The man who tended to the vehicles testified that the evidence wasn't there all along, however, proving that someone was setting Cook up. The fact that Cook takes care of his cars, that they aren't purely window dressing, saved him.

  There's another thing that cars do-they identify people literally as well as symbolically. Right at the start of the pilot Veronica knew Celeste Kane was in the Mars Investigation offices, because the red Jaguar was at the curb.

  And of course, the first evidence that Lynn Echolls had killed herself at the end of "Clash of the Tritons" (1-12) was when her red Dodge was found abandoned on the Coronado Bridge, the door standing open. Her body was never found, but the car was there.

  Although Lynn was gone without a trace, in the course of the series any number of people are located by tracking down their carsVeronica found Lianne Mars (or at least where she'd been) in Arizona by running her plates, Liam Fitzpatrick was linked to his crimes through his grandmother's green Barracuda, and so on.

  People are identified with their cars. In "Kanes and Abel's" (1-17), when Sabrina Fuller asked Veronica whether she knew Caz Truman, Veronica responded, "Basketball player? Drives a Yukon?"

  Cars are potent symbols throughout of things other than their owners as well. I've already mentioned the symbolism of impaling Mr. Daniels's car on a flagpole, but that's just the start.

  When Weevil left the PCH biker gang behind, he bought himself a car-he was trying to fit into normal society, no longer the angry outsider. He was out to leave all that outcast stuff behind, ready to walk across the stage at graduation and get his diploma.

  It didn't work, of course, but still, the car was a symbol of his desire to fit in.

  In "A Trip to the Dentist" (1-21), Duncan's reaction to seeing Veronica and Logan together, and being told that anyone who has a problem with them being a couple should leave, was to go back out to his Mercedes-and when he found he'd locked himself out he smashed his car's windows in a berserk fury, a symbolic act of self-destruction.

  Cars as extensions of self, cars as symbols of power, freedom, and wealth-it's all amazingly well thought-out and consistent. In fact, the cars are treated far more realistically and consistently than other elements, such as the Mars dog, Backup. Backup only appears when his presence is necessary to the plot-when Veronica needs a way to defend herself she takes Backup with her, when she needs a reason to leave the house she walks him, and so on, but we never see him climb on her lap when she's sitting at home, he never barks when someone comes to the apartment door, and there's never a scene of Veronica or Keith feeding the dog while they talk. The LeBaron gets more screen time and better treatment than the dog, and is more consistent; two different dogs played the role of Backup, while the LeBaron has never changed.'

  In a way, that's no surprise. Southern California is famous for its love of cars, and Veronica Mars is very, very Californian. Many TV series seem a little vague about where they're set, but Veronica Mars never is-the beaches, the outdoor school cafeteria, the movie stars, the Hispanic housekeepers, all of it is redolent of southern California. Getting every detail of the cars right is a part of that, and someone did a first-rate job of it. It's impressive, and a general sign of the care and thoughtfulness that went into making the series. Everything fits together into a coherent whole.

  That's part of what makes Veronica Mars so special as a series-everything fits together. Characters glimpsed in one scene may turn out to be important several episodes later; throwaway jokes turn out to be vital clues-anything may have an unexpected significance.

  On other shows, cars serve a few basic functions-as settings for private conversations, as plot devices (like the General Lee), as bits of characterization (like Alison Dubois's Volvo wagon), as cheap gags (like Giles's Citroen). On Veronica Mars they do all these things, constantly, and others besides. No other TV show has ever come close to making such extensive use of vehicles as a way to communicate important information to the audience. Where most shows treat cars as props, in some ways, Veronica Mars treats them more like costumes.

  It's one of the things that makes the show such a rich and involving experience. When someone has taken the time and effort to make sure even something as commonplace as the cars the minor characters drive is absolutely right, it adds a depth and realism most shows never approach. That level of detail, that complexity, is what makes Veronica Mars so fascinating. It's so satisfying to see every car be just what it should be.

  The only thing I could never quite figure out is why Dick Casablancas drives an Audi.

  NOTE: Scott Fisher provided invaluable aid in precisely identifying some of the cars.

  LAWRENCE WATT-EVANS is the author of some three dozen novels and more than 100 short stories, mostly in the fields of fantasy, science fiction, and horror. He won the Hugo Award for Short Story in 1988 for "Why I Left Harry's All-Night Hamburgers," served as president of the Horror Writers Association from 1994 to 1996, treasurer of SFWA from 2003 to 2004, and lives in Maryland. He has one kid in college, one teaching English in China, and shares his home with Chanel, the obligatory writer's cat.

  U's been repeated many times. Logan was never supposed to be a Veronica love interest. I created him to be the antagonist the "psychotic jackass" who would foster confrontation and keep Veronica in her place (which, certainly, was not at the 09er table).

  When Jason Dohring came in to audition for the first time, it was one of the most powerful auditions I've ever witnessed. Because we didn't have that much dialogue for him in the pilot, I wrote an additional audition scene in which Aaron picks Logan up from school after Veronica gets him expelled for the bong in his locker In the scene, Aaron has Logan push in the cigarette lighter, and the audience realizes as Logan loses his composure what Aaron plans to do with the lighter Jason was spellbinding. (He always wanted to perform that scene in the show. It was replaced by the scene of choosing a belt with which to be whipped. I believe the cigarette lighter scene would've led people to believe Aaron was the murderer too early in the series.)

  Still, even knowing how good Jason was, I didn't foresee a Veronica/Logan romance until we started seeing them onscreen together. There was a shared pain and a shared disdain for everything they saw around them that was-to quote Catcher in the Rye-"phony."

  I wasn't actually pleased with the first Veronica/Logan kiss. Now, I may have been wrong on this front, but it wasn't what I ima
gined, or really what I think was described in the script. The line of description called for Logan to "devour" Veronica. I wanted it to be-I don't know if sexual is the right word, but hungry, or a release, or mixed with some self-loathing and confusion. Instead, it came off as singularly romantic. Now the post-kiss moment of the two of them regarding each other-that was everything I hoped for

  It's funny to watch Kristen and Jason "act" together, because they approach their craft so differently. They're both incredibly dedicated, but Kristen can turn it on and off. Jason is very method y. He works himself up before a scene. You can kind of see Jason disappear and Logan replace him before we shoot a scene. There's the famous anecdote of Laurence Olivier saying to a young Dustin Hoffman, "Have you ever tried just `acting'?" You could replace Olivier with Kristen and Hoffman with Jason, and you'd have the dynamic between our two stars.

  Jason has told me that he hates saying, "I love you" onscreen. The good news is that I hate writing it, so we're a good pair That said, he delivers it beautifully in "Lord of the Pi's" (3-8). Of course, at the time, he's angry at Veronica.

  That's just how they roll.

  Boom Goes the Dynamite

  Why I Love Veronica and Logan

  FIRST STARTED WATCHING Veronica Mars during the summer reruns following the first season. My sister, who is intimately familiar with my championship of female empowerment, could not believe I wasn't watching a show that prominently featured a strong, intelligent, sassy woman. She also kept mentioning that it was the best show on TV So, to humor her, I agreed to watch. She was right. I liked it. It was smart, funny, poignant, highly entertaining, and extremely well-acted. Kristen Bell in particular was a joy to watch. I looked forward to it every week but I wasn't obsessed. I sometimes only just remembered that it was on. That wee bit of sanity about the show, however, remained only until The Kiss, which is what diehard shippers (as in those who favor specific relationships) call the first time Veronica and Logan Echolls locked lips. After that, I was a goner. I bought the first season DVDs, joined fan forums, attended a fan event in Austin, read fanfiction about the couple, and eagerly scoured the Internet for all things Veronica Mars. The night UPN ran the show became Veronica Mars Night and no one was allowed to talk to me until I'd finished watching the episode. I had never done these types of things before and am not usually a gung-ho kind of person, so I was puzzled as to why I was so mesmerized.