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One of the themes I’ve discussed about the recent explosion of original cable programming is the ability for the smaller networks to create shows which explore sub-cultures of American society. While the main networks tend to set their shows in the big cities and feature characters with mainstream careers and lifestyles, cable shows aren’t shy about taking a closer look at some of the more fringe groups, hidden away behind all of the lawyers, cops and doctors.

Of course, I’ve often centered these pieces on the genres that tend to spawn sprawling fictional mythologies, but even those often operate within the status quo. Mulder and Scully are FBI agents, Buffy is a high school student, and so on. On the other hand, HBO gives us a look into Utah’s polygamist sects in Big Love, while FX takes us along for a ride with motorcycle gangs on Sons of Anarchy. You get the idea. These are shows without fantasy elements, yet they exist within real world cultures that many are seeing for the first time from within.

I’d say Justified, which just wrapped its third season this week, kinda fits into the Buffy mold, without the vampires and demons. Yes, the lead character Raylan Givens is law enforcement, so he’s in a pretty mainstream career path. What makes Justified different than other cop shows is its setting. It’s not a thriving metropolis. No, it takes place in a small community set in the Kentucky hills called Harlan.

It’s far from the first show to feature characters from rural areas, but they’re usually portrayed as bumpkins in a fish out of water situation like the Beverly Hillbillies. Much of the entertainment comes from a pretty condescending point of view, watching the unsophisticated rubes come to terms with us, the enlightened ones, and our oh-so evolved culture.

On Justified, these country dwellers may not live in the urban or even suburban paradises that the big networks make America out to be, but they certainly aren’t unsophisticated. The just-wrapped third season of Justified pulls a reversal on the formula. An urbane, big city gangster named Quarles (dude went to my alma mater University of Michigan - Go Blue!), carpetbags his way into Harlan, hoping to take advantage of the vacuum left when local crime leader Mags Bennett died at the end of season two.

Quarles (spoilers) quickly realizes that his adversaries - Raylan, Boyd Crowder and Limehouse - may all have drawls, but they are far from dim and, in time, out-maneuver him. Even this role reversal isn’t entirely new. Many is the romantic comedy that has some young backwoods transplant bring their big city lover home for the holidays to culture clash hijinks and an eventual appreciation for the simplicity of rural life.

Yet, this is still a patronizing representation of such an existence. It’s a celebration of the simple. Justified doesn’t present Harlan as simple. It’s a complex society, with intelligent power players on both sides of the law. As cultured as Quarles seems to be, these backwoods folks slowly unravel him over the course of the season.

See, the show is based on a character by Elmore Leonard. I haven’t read any of the Raylan Givens books, but I am somewhat familiar with Leonard’s style. He rarely reduces his characters to mere types. They’re layered and crafty, each playing their cards until the best player triumphs. The game analogy is a clichéd one when discussing crime fiction, but in Leonard’s case, it’s really the only one that fits.

The other aspect of his style, which the show captures so well, is the dialogue. There is more subtext than text in any given exchange on Justified. While most shows want the viewer to know exactly what the scene is about, on Justified, what the scene is about is buried under some of the most innocent yet hostile conversations this side of Quentin Tarantino. These supposed rubes just provoke, prod, and smarm their way through conversation after conversation, true antagonisms veiled within clever quips and elongated colloquialisms. It all moves at a snail’s pace until that burst of violence hidden just beneath the surface explodes.

Oh, there’s dirt, and shacks, and accents, all of the trademarks you expect from a tale set in the hills. But there’s also sophistication, craft and wit. These characters are real players. They all play their game, they all find ways to overcome each another, trusting that the other won’t see the big picture until it comes crashing down around him. I used the clichéd analogy of playing cards, but perhaps I should have used the even more clichéd chess analogy. It’s a game best suited for the person who can see the most moves ahead.

Justified has done well for FX, yet still doesn’t have quite the stature of say The Shield or Sons of Anarchy. Yet, it shares a quality with these other shows. They’re all about game players, all trying to one up their adversaries. They all celebrate the subtext of the game. In Justified’s case, the players use their blue collar setting to disarm white collar opponents. It’s a show that respects its characters and setting.

It also respects the viewers. As we delight in watching Raylan, Boyd and Quarles all working each other, we also realize that the show is working us. The overall scheme doesn’t really become apparent until it finalizes. It’s at this point that we understand that all of the pieces add up to a different picture than we anticipated. It’s good to see a show that doesn’t condescend to its characters. It’s even more rewarding to see a show that doesn’t condescend to its audience.