HBO really struck gold back in 2006, though nobody knew it yet. When Big Love premiered, people expected a freak show about polygamists in Utah. What they got instead was a stressful, sprawling, and deeply human look at a family trying to survive their own secrets. Honestly, the characters in Big Love aren't just archetypes of religious fringe groups. They’re mirrors of the same suburban anxieties we all deal with—money, ego, and the impossible task of keeping everyone happy at the same time.
Bill Henrickson is the guy holding it all together, or at least he thinks he is. Bill Paxton played him with this frantic, "I can fix this" energy that made you root for him even when he was being an absolute jerk. He’s a guy who wants to be a moral leader but can't stop chasing the next business deal or the next political win. It’s that classic American hunger. He’s not just a polygamist; he’s a CEO of a household that's constantly on the verge of bankruptcy, both financially and emotionally.
Barb Henrickson: The Moral Compass in a Storm
If you want to understand the heart of the show, you look at Barb. Jeanne Tripplehorn gave us a performance that was so subtle it almost hurt to watch sometimes. She’s the first wife. The "legal" one. In the hierarchy of the Henrickson home, she’s the boss, but she’s also the one with the most to lose.
Barb didn't grow up in the "Principle." She’s a former Miss Utah, a woman who had a traditional life before cancer and a spiritual crisis led her and Bill into polygamy. That’s the detail people forget. She chose this, but she spends seven seasons wondering if she made a deal with the devil. Her journey is the most painful because she has the clearest view of what they’ve given up.
There's this moment in the early seasons where Barb is nominated for Mother of the Year. It’s a farce, right? She’s living a lie. But she wants it. She wants that validation from the "normal" world so badly it keeps her up at night. She’s the bridge between the viewers and the strange world of the show. If Barb can believe in it, maybe we can too. But as the show progresses, her faith shifts from the institution of the family to her own internal sense of God, which is a massive, quiet rebellion.
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Nicki Smith: The Chaos Agent from Juniper Creek
Then there’s Nicki. Oh, Nicki. Chloe Sevigny was born for this role. Nicki is the second wife, and she’s a total disaster in the most entertaining way possible. She’s the daughter of the "Prophet" Roman Grant, and she brings all that cult baggage into the suburban Henrickson home. She spends money they don't have. She lies about everything. She wears these modest, high-collared floral shirts but has the sharpest tongue in Salt Lake City.
She’s defensive.
She’s often the villain of the household, but if you look closer, she’s the most tragic of the characters in Big Love. She was raised in a compound where women were currency. She doesn't know how to be honest because honesty was never a survival strategy for her. When she’s manipulating Bill or snapping at Margene, it’s coming from a place of deep-seated fear that she’s replaceable.
The Layers of Nicki’s Deception
She’s the one who bridges the gap between the "white-bread" suburban life and the dark, dusty reality of Juniper Creek. Without Nicki, the show is just a domestic drama. With her, it’s a thriller. Remember the birth control subplot? She was terrified of having more children while the family was struggling, but she couldn't just say that. She had to sneak around. That’s the tragedy of their lifestyle—even within the family, they are all essentially alone.
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Margene Heffman: The Kid Who Grew Up Too Fast
Ginnifer Goodwin played Margene, the third and youngest wife, with a sort of manic sunshine. At the start, she’s basically a child. She was their babysitter. Think about how dark that actually is. The show handles it with a bit of a wink early on, but later seasons lean into the fact that Margene was a lost soul looking for a mother figure and stumbled into a marriage with a man twice her age.
Margene is the engine of the family's growth. She’s the one who gets into home shopping, the one who wants to engage with the world, and the one who eventually realizes she might have outgrown the Henrickson backyard.
- She represents the "new" polygamy.
- She’s not burdened by the traditions of the Creek.
- She just wants to be loved.
- Her energy keeps the house from collapsing under Barb’s gloom and Nicki’s spite.
The Men of the Compound: Roman and Alby Grant
You can't talk about the characters in Big Love without talking about the villains. Harry Dean Stanton as Roman Grant was terrifying because he was so casual. He’d be eating a bowl of cereal while ordering a hit or excommunicating a teenager. He represented the old guard—the power-hungry patriarchs who used "revelation" as a weapon to keep their pockets full.
Then there’s Alby, Roman’s son. Matt Ross played Alby with a twitchy, repressed rage that made him one of the most complex antagonists on TV. Alby is a man at war with himself. He’s gay in a culture that considers that a death sentence. He wants his father’s throne but hates the man who sits on it. His trajectory is a dark mirror to Bill’s; while Bill tries to make polygamy "respectable," Alby just wants to watch the whole world burn so he doesn't have to hide anymore.
Why the Kids Matter So Much
The Henrickson children—Sarah, Ben, Tancy, and the littles—are the ones who actually pay the price. Sarah, played by Amanda Seyfried, is the soul of the show's skepticism. Her refusal to accept "The Principle" provides a necessary groundedness. When she leaves, the family loses its last tether to the "normal" world. Ben, on the other hand, tries so hard to be like Bill, which is almost more heartbreaking. He wants the burden. He wants the multiple wives. He wants the stress because he thinks that’s what a man is.
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Watching these kids navigate high school while pretending their "aunts" are just houseguests is a masterclass in tension. It captures that universal teen experience of being embarrassed by your parents, just turned up to an eleven.
The Impact of the Supporting Cast
The show was packed with heavy hitters. You had Bruce Dern as Bill’s unhinged father, Frank, and Mary Kay Place as Adaleen, the chilling matriarch of the Grant family. These weren't just guest stars; they built a world that felt lived-in and dusty and old.
Lois Henrickson (Grace Zabriskie) deserves her own essay. She was a woman hardened by a lifetime of neglect and "sharing" her husband, and she became a paranoid, bird-obsessed, brilliant survivor. Her relationship with Frank was a toxic masterpiece. They represented what Bill and his wives could become if they didn't get out: bitter, isolated, and dangerous.
Realism and the LDS Church
It's worth noting that the show drew a very sharp line between mainstream LDS (Latter-day Saints) and the fundamentalist groups depicted in the series. The creators, Mark V. Olsen and Will Scheffer, did an incredible amount of research. They captured the specific cadence of Utah speech—the "oh my hecks" and the soft-spoken intensity.
The controversy was real. The LDS church wasn't thrilled about the depiction of their sacred temple ceremonies in later seasons. But for the viewers, it wasn't about the theology. It was about the secrecy. Everyone has a secret. Everyone is pretending their family is more functional than it actually is. The Henricksons just had a much bigger secret than most.
The Enduring Legacy of the Henrickson Saga
What makes the characters in Big Love stick in your brain isn't the polygamy. It’s the way they fight over the kitchen table. It’s the way Bill tries to be a good man while doing fundamentally selfish things. It’s the way the three women form a sisterhood that is often stronger than their bond with their husband.
By the time the show reached its divisive finale, the family had become a public spectacle. They went from hiding in the suburbs to being the face of a movement. That transition destroyed them, but it also freed them.
What You Can Do Next: A Practical Deep Dive
If you're looking to revisit the series or understand its context better, here’s how to approach it:
- Watch for the power dynamics, not the plot: Pay attention to who sits at the head of the table in each house and how Barb, Nicki, and Margene trade "nights" with Bill like currency.
- Research the real-life inspirations: Look into the history of the Short Creek community and the real-world legal battles involving the FLDS. It makes the stakes for Nicki’s character feel much higher.
- Observe the costume design: Notice how Barb’s clothes get sharper and more modern as she finds her voice, while Nicki clings to the "prairie chic" look as a shield.
- Track the "Bill-isms": Watch how Bill uses religious language to justify his business expansion. It’s a fascinating look at how we use belief to get what we want.
The show is currently streaming on Max (formerly HBO Max). It holds up surprisingly well, mainly because the performances are so grounded. You might go in for the "taboo" subject matter, but you'll stay because you genuinely want to see if Barb finally tells everyone to leave her alone so she can have a moment of peace.
Next Steps for Fans:
Start by re-watching the Season 3 finale, "Abominations." It’s widely considered one of the best hours of television from that era and perfectly encapsulates the internal rot and external pressure the family faced. From there, read the 2011 interviews with the showrunners about the finale's intent—it sheds a lot of light on Bill's ultimate "test of faith."