Dexter and Californication ended their seasons with episodes built around men who are trying to be the best person they know how to be. As we've seen a couple times over the course of the year, the normally empty Dexter (Michael C. Hall) appears to be capable of displaying real emotion when it comes to his offspring. This time, he even sheds a tear, though it actually comes vicariously out of Harry's (James Remar) eye during another one of their father-son chats. With Miguel Prado and the Skinner behind him, Dexter arrived at his wedding and, in a rare moment of true honesty, vowed to show himself and his new wife Rita (the subdued Julie Benz) just what kind of man he is. This sentiment was punctuated by a drop of blood that fell from the cast on his hand (broken during his run-in with the Skinner) onto Rita's pure white wedding dress, a constant reminder of the darkness that is never too far away.
On Californication, Hank's (David Duchovny) biography on the recently deceased Lew Ashby (Callum Keith Rennie, a questionable cast addition) is done, Charlie's (Evan Handler) a salesman shacking up with a "retired porno chick," and Karen (Natascha McElhone) got a job in New York. After a few off weeks where the show traded in comedy for a bit of self-seriousness, it returned to form with this second-season finale. For all of its debauchery, the show tries hard to maintain some modicum of heart, something for the audience to hold onto. Never has that been more in evidence than in this episode's final moments when Hank selflessy let Karen go so he could stay and let daughter Rebecca experience her first love. A perfect ending to a season in which Hank wanted so badly to do the right thing.
Over on CBS, the finale of Survivor: Gabon--Earth's Last Eden had a perfect ending of its own, as 57-year-old physics teacher Bob Crowley deservedly won the show's million-dollar prize. What started out as a lopsided, uneventful season concluded in a flurry of deception and an ultimate feat of fairness. Down to the final four of Sugar, Bob, Matty, and Susie (who had immunity), Sugar, in a wonderful example of sportsmanship, forced a tie, too difficult was the choice between her newfound brother- and father-figures. In a firemaking challenge to decide who would go to the final three, Bob easily outperformed Matty, and essentially secured the grand prize right then and there. When asked by Matty during the final tribal council why Susie and Sugar are more deserving of the million than he was, Bob answered flatly, "I don't think they are." And he couldn't have been more correct. Bob played an admirable game, while Sugar, as likable as she was most of the time, connived her way to the finals, and Susie rode coattails from the outset. In fact, Susie may just be the most boring, nondescript player ever to make it this far in the game. I'm just glad that annoying weasel Kenny didn't have a chance to plead his case to the jury. Bob became the oldest winner in Survivor history and tied for the most individual wins in a row (five, including three immunities). In a game where older people are usually voted out early, it was nice to see someone on the verge of AARP status finally get his due.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Jay, It Ain't So!
NBC is determined to do things differently, no matter the cost. Last year, after the writers’ strike, they pooh-poohed the pilot process, instead choosing to order shows straight to series. That bet clearly didn’t pay off, as the network’s ratings are down by double digits and they don’t have a bona-fide hit on the schedule save football. Now comes the announcement that Jay Leno won’t be leaving after all, with the Peacock making history by stripping a new talk show at 10pm in the fall. Thanks, NBC. At least in late night, it was easier to avoid Leno, who never met a predictable punchline he didn’t like. Now he’ll be plastered all over prime time five nights a week.
And what happens if this bold experiment doesn’t work? A major impetus for this decision is that it saves the network millions of dollars that would normally go toward license fees and per-episode costs of an expensive drama series. Which means that they probably won’t be spending much on development in the near future. Which means that they may be stuck with this show for some time even if the ratings stink. There’s a big difference between a late night talk show that viewers fall asleep to and a prime time show that they make an appointment to watch (or at least set a DVR season pass for) every week. It’s going to take a lot more than the five million or so viewers who tune in to Leno each night to make it a success in prime time. Would you choose to watch Leno exercise his horrible interview technique over an episode of Lost—or even Numb3rs for that matter? I think NBC will learn before too long that the answer to that question is a resounding no.
And what happens if this bold experiment doesn’t work? A major impetus for this decision is that it saves the network millions of dollars that would normally go toward license fees and per-episode costs of an expensive drama series. Which means that they probably won’t be spending much on development in the near future. Which means that they may be stuck with this show for some time even if the ratings stink. There’s a big difference between a late night talk show that viewers fall asleep to and a prime time show that they make an appointment to watch (or at least set a DVR season pass for) every week. It’s going to take a lot more than the five million or so viewers who tune in to Leno each night to make it a success in prime time. Would you choose to watch Leno exercise his horrible interview technique over an episode of Lost—or even Numb3rs for that matter? I think NBC will learn before too long that the answer to that question is a resounding no.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
A Secret Worth Keeping
Fox doesn’t have the best track record when it comes to shows that have Millionaire in their titles. The messes that were Who Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire? and Joe Millionaire are best forgotten. So it comes as a sweet surprise that the network’s new Secret Millionaire actually has something most of Fox’s reality entries distinctly lack: a heart.
In each episode, wealthy partipants are taken to a poor neighborhood, where they must live on welfare wages for a week. After meeting people in their new environs and determining who they think is most worthy of a chance at a better life, they must dole out at least $100,000 of their own money. The expected complaints of people who go from the lap of luxury to utter poverty are dampened quickly enough when they realize that their new neighbors live like this all the time, not just for six days.
The show is a testament to the resiliency of the human spirit. We meet Linda, a woman climbing back from the medical bills that left her on the street; Kathy, who uses her social security check to feed homeless people out of her own home; and little Emily, a child with cancer and no health insurance. In Buras, Louisiana, we see the devastation that still remains three years after Hurricane Katrina, and the people who are determined to rebuild.
Money is handed out, tears flow, and lives are changed all around. But better than the reactions that come with receiving a monetary windfall is the togetherness and camaraderie that the destitute share with complete strangers. This is selflessness at its most pure; for Fox, a strange but all-too-welcome sight.
In each episode, wealthy partipants are taken to a poor neighborhood, where they must live on welfare wages for a week. After meeting people in their new environs and determining who they think is most worthy of a chance at a better life, they must dole out at least $100,000 of their own money. The expected complaints of people who go from the lap of luxury to utter poverty are dampened quickly enough when they realize that their new neighbors live like this all the time, not just for six days.
The show is a testament to the resiliency of the human spirit. We meet Linda, a woman climbing back from the medical bills that left her on the street; Kathy, who uses her social security check to feed homeless people out of her own home; and little Emily, a child with cancer and no health insurance. In Buras, Louisiana, we see the devastation that still remains three years after Hurricane Katrina, and the people who are determined to rebuild.
Money is handed out, tears flow, and lives are changed all around. But better than the reactions that come with receiving a monetary windfall is the togetherness and camaraderie that the destitute share with complete strangers. This is selflessness at its most pure; for Fox, a strange but all-too-welcome sight.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Cancellation: Easy as A-B-C
Over the past 15 years or so, ABC has made a habit of developing great shows that it has no idea what to do with. My So-Called Life. Sports Night. Relativity. Cupid (which is actually being remade by the Alphabet for midseason, so it could meet the same fate twice). Nothing Sacred. High Incident. Murder One. Miracles. Eyes. The Nine. The list goes on and on.
Now we can add two more: Eli Stone and Dirty Sexy Money, both of which will be gone after they complete their 13-episode orders for this season. (Pushing Daisies is a goner, too, though my own personal feelings about the show keep me from including it on this list.) Of course, neither of these cancellations comes as any surprise. The shows were ratings-starved almost from the beginning, and their second seasons were likely born more out of need than want. Last year's writers' strike hampered development, giving these lower-rated shows the opportunity to try again. Unfortunately, their returns were met with the same degree of viewer indifference the second time around.
Dirty Sexy Money defined the term "guilty pleasure." And even though it has struggled a bit creatively this year (Dexter's Daniel Cerone was brought on as executive producer in between seasons only to be let go before the fall relaunch), the Darling clan still made for deliciously scandalous TV. But the real loss here is Eli Stone, a sweet-natured drama that tried to do something that few shows ever attempt--make a difference in the world. Eli the prophet no doubt had many lessons to teach us about life and love.
Pity poor Greg Berlanti (as much as you can pity a Hollywood millionaire). Both Money and Stone operated under his tutelage. At least he still has Brothers & Sisters to fall back on. Let's hope ABC knows how to handle that gem.
Now we can add two more: Eli Stone and Dirty Sexy Money, both of which will be gone after they complete their 13-episode orders for this season. (Pushing Daisies is a goner, too, though my own personal feelings about the show keep me from including it on this list.) Of course, neither of these cancellations comes as any surprise. The shows were ratings-starved almost from the beginning, and their second seasons were likely born more out of need than want. Last year's writers' strike hampered development, giving these lower-rated shows the opportunity to try again. Unfortunately, their returns were met with the same degree of viewer indifference the second time around.
Dirty Sexy Money defined the term "guilty pleasure." And even though it has struggled a bit creatively this year (Dexter's Daniel Cerone was brought on as executive producer in between seasons only to be let go before the fall relaunch), the Darling clan still made for deliciously scandalous TV. But the real loss here is Eli Stone, a sweet-natured drama that tried to do something that few shows ever attempt--make a difference in the world. Eli the prophet no doubt had many lessons to teach us about life and love.
Pity poor Greg Berlanti (as much as you can pity a Hollywood millionaire). Both Money and Stone operated under his tutelage. At least he still has Brothers & Sisters to fall back on. Let's hope ABC knows how to handle that gem.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
A Friday Goodbye
"New York, New York" marks another heartbreaking farewell on Friday Night Lights after last month's bon voyage to Smash. This time around it's Jason Street (Scott Porter), determined to start a new life with his girlfriend and infant son, even if it means moving all the way to New Jersey. Street uses the same skills we've seen him use as a car salesman to convince his football player friend that he's signing with the wrong sports agency. In the process, Street manages to land himself an entry-level agency job and reunites with his new family. Just how emotional a moment is it? Well, it takes a lot to bring Tim Riggins to tears, but damned if he doesn't get choked up, happy for his best friend's success but devastated to see him move so far away. It's a shame that the show's third-season budget wasn't big enough to keep Porter (and Gaius Charles' Smash for that matter) on as a regular. Since the beginning, he's played the paraplegic Street with minimum self-pity and maximum heart. He's a terrific role model for the youth of Dillon and his presence will be missed.
And no writeup of this show would be complete without a mention of what may be TV's most engaging married couple ever. Coach and Tami (Kyle Chandler and Connie Britton) argue over whether they can afford to buy their dream house, with Coach being the pragmatist (he's clearly still worried about the overtures of replacement that cast a pall over the first few games of the season) and Tami the idealist (she's all about envisioning barbecues and Gracie Belle playing in the backyard). In the end, no offer is made, but the way these two argue and makeup--respect is paramount--is worthy of being taught in college courses.
And no writeup of this show would be complete without a mention of what may be TV's most engaging married couple ever. Coach and Tami (Kyle Chandler and Connie Britton) argue over whether they can afford to buy their dream house, with Coach being the pragmatist (he's clearly still worried about the overtures of replacement that cast a pall over the first few games of the season) and Tami the idealist (she's all about envisioning barbecues and Gracie Belle playing in the backyard). In the end, no offer is made, but the way these two argue and makeup--respect is paramount--is worthy of being taught in college courses.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Remotes Down, Hands Up
Top Chef, one of TV's best reality-competition series, returned this week, and it was great to see head judge Tom Colicchio (brutally honest but always classy) out there with his whistle for the first Quickfire challenge. It seems to be a tradition for these Bravo shows to set us up for the first elimination with a soundbite of a contestant (or in Top Chef's case, "chef-testant") confidently assuring us that they won't be ousted prematurely. Such was the case with Lauren. "I'll be damned if I go home early," she said, before being whisked off on a New York ferry for making a subpar apple dish.
As happens too often with reality shows in these early rounds, there are simply too many contestants and not enough time, leaving viewers with no real sense of who these people are until the competition is whittled down to around ten or so people remaining. So far, producers have spent the most time with dueling Europeans Stefan and Fabio, the former possibly being set up as this season's Marcel. There's also wacky Carla, whose "spirit guides" were supposed to lead her to create a great dish, but apparently led her astray instead. And Team Rainbow, made up of the house's three gay contestants, as if being gay somehow automatically makes a person more interesting. It doesn't. Nor does it make one a good chef, as Patrick, one of Team Rainbow's members, was told by host Padma Lakshmi to pack up his knives. Two down, fifteen to go.
As happens too often with reality shows in these early rounds, there are simply too many contestants and not enough time, leaving viewers with no real sense of who these people are until the competition is whittled down to around ten or so people remaining. So far, producers have spent the most time with dueling Europeans Stefan and Fabio, the former possibly being set up as this season's Marcel. There's also wacky Carla, whose "spirit guides" were supposed to lead her to create a great dish, but apparently led her astray instead. And Team Rainbow, made up of the house's three gay contestants, as if being gay somehow automatically makes a person more interesting. It doesn't. Nor does it make one a good chef, as Patrick, one of Team Rainbow's members, was told by host Padma Lakshmi to pack up his knives. Two down, fifteen to go.
Monday, November 3, 2008
With Friends Like These...
Dexter continues to experience something he's never before known in his life: friendship. Miguel Prado (Jimmy Smits) knows Dexter's secret (as much as Dexter as lets him know, anyway), and celebrates it rather than being disgusted by it, like Dex's father Harry was. Prado even goes so far as to tell Dexter that he respects him, words Dexter almost assuredly never thought he'd hear in relation to his serial killer peccadillo. One of the great things about Dexter is its ability to deliver twists the viewer truly doesn't see coming. The Ice Truck Killer ends up being Dexter's long-lost brother. Doakes is framed as the Bay Harbor Butcher. And now Prado, Miami's ADA, is aiding Dexter in his quest to rid the world of scum. Of course, Prado doesn't know that Dexter's proclivity is less about magnanimity and more about quelling his "dark passenger." But who cares? For once in his life, Dex can be himself without having to worry about the repercussions. Or so we're being led to believe.
Following Dexter on Showtime Sunday night is perhaps TV's dirtiest show, Californiation. There's more than enough sex and drugs to go around on this laugh-out-loud, darkly hysterical comedy, which stars David Duchovny as Hank Moody, a writer who can't figure out how to do things right, but isn't always completely in the wrong, either. For example, Hank will forever be known as the "mouth rapist," a decidedly unpleasant moniker he received after stumbling into a dark room he thought was occupied by his wife and performing oral sex on another woman. Duchovny is perfectly droll in a role that comes across as all-too natural, especially considering his recent stint in rehab for sex addiction. Also doing great work here is Evan Handler (Sex and the City), an agent recently fired after being caught on tape repeatedly masturbating in his office. Handler's Charlie is now investing in a pornographic film called Vaginatown; last night, he had to act as stunt penis when too much cocaine left the film's star unable to perform. Starting to get the feel of the show? These people aren't like anyone you know, and if they are, you need new friends. I hear Dexter's on the market...
Following Dexter on Showtime Sunday night is perhaps TV's dirtiest show, Californiation. There's more than enough sex and drugs to go around on this laugh-out-loud, darkly hysterical comedy, which stars David Duchovny as Hank Moody, a writer who can't figure out how to do things right, but isn't always completely in the wrong, either. For example, Hank will forever be known as the "mouth rapist," a decidedly unpleasant moniker he received after stumbling into a dark room he thought was occupied by his wife and performing oral sex on another woman. Duchovny is perfectly droll in a role that comes across as all-too natural, especially considering his recent stint in rehab for sex addiction. Also doing great work here is Evan Handler (Sex and the City), an agent recently fired after being caught on tape repeatedly masturbating in his office. Handler's Charlie is now investing in a pornographic film called Vaginatown; last night, he had to act as stunt penis when too much cocaine left the film's star unable to perform. Starting to get the feel of the show? These people aren't like anyone you know, and if they are, you need new friends. I hear Dexter's on the market...
Friday, October 31, 2008
You Can't Have Strong Without Weak
Before last night, Survivor: Gabon--Earth's Last Eden could have been dubbed Survivor: Sexism Edition, as all but one of the castaways voted out so far had been women (the lone male was GC, who almost doesn't count because he basically quit). The female bloodbath ended, however, as both tribes reported to Tribal Council, and both voted out two of their stronger physical assets: Ace from Fang and Dan from Kota. This is certainly the weakest edition the show has seen in a while. The scenery is beautiful as always, but Survivor is all about the people, and this time around, none of the contestants are particularly exciting. There's nobody to root for or--more importantly--against. Ace was the closest thing this edition had to a villain, with his indecipherable kinda-British accent lulling Sugar into a coma and convincing other tribemates to keep him around. He was blinsided last night as the Fang tribe, after losing six challenges in a row, finally woke up and realized they were playing for a million dollars, not just enjoying an amenity-free vacation in Africa. Not since the Ulong tribe in Survivor: Palau whittled down to the point where only poor Stephenie remained has a tribe looked so pathetic. A merge seems imminent; perhaps combining the tribes will breathe new life into these stale personalities.
And a few notes about NBC's 9pm comedy hour, featuring the long-awaited return of Emmy winner 30 Rock. Rock is easily the best comedy since Arrested Development, but the season premiere, in which Liz (Tina Fey) tried to show a social worker (guest star Megan Mullally) that she was fit to adopt a child, was too absurd even by this show's standards. At its best when throwaway lines (like Liz referencing Lil Wayne, then asking "That's a person, right?")dominate the slapstick, this episode got lost in silliness. But the dynamic between Fey and Alec Baldwin is priceless and brings guaranteed hilarity to even a subpar episode.
The Office was off it's game, too, as the show always seems to suffer whenever it leaves its titular location. The trip to New Hampshire as Michael (Steve Carell) escorted girlfriend Holly (Amy Ryan) to her new home was laugh-free, and Jim's (John Krasinski) trip to New York to have dinner with Pam (Jenna Fischer) and his brothers only emphasized how much we miss having Jim and Pam together in the office. They aren't nearly as cute when they spend so much time apart. The episode also had its fill of Dwight (Rainn Wilson) and Andy (Ed Helms), both of whom are best in small doses; one character with limited self-awareness (namely Michael) is more than enough. Let's hope that this episode doesn't mark the end of Amy Ryan's run on the show; she and Carell play off each other beautifully. After being stuck with Jan for so long, it was nice to see Michael in a relationship that wasn't built on sadness.
And a few notes about NBC's 9pm comedy hour, featuring the long-awaited return of Emmy winner 30 Rock. Rock is easily the best comedy since Arrested Development, but the season premiere, in which Liz (Tina Fey) tried to show a social worker (guest star Megan Mullally) that she was fit to adopt a child, was too absurd even by this show's standards. At its best when throwaway lines (like Liz referencing Lil Wayne, then asking "That's a person, right?")dominate the slapstick, this episode got lost in silliness. But the dynamic between Fey and Alec Baldwin is priceless and brings guaranteed hilarity to even a subpar episode.
The Office was off it's game, too, as the show always seems to suffer whenever it leaves its titular location. The trip to New Hampshire as Michael (Steve Carell) escorted girlfriend Holly (Amy Ryan) to her new home was laugh-free, and Jim's (John Krasinski) trip to New York to have dinner with Pam (Jenna Fischer) and his brothers only emphasized how much we miss having Jim and Pam together in the office. They aren't nearly as cute when they spend so much time apart. The episode also had its fill of Dwight (Rainn Wilson) and Andy (Ed Helms), both of whom are best in small doses; one character with limited self-awareness (namely Michael) is more than enough. Let's hope that this episode doesn't mark the end of Amy Ryan's run on the show; she and Carell play off each other beautifully. After being stuck with Jan for so long, it was nice to see Michael in a relationship that wasn't built on sadness.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Monday's Worst Worst Show
It's almost like NBC went out of their way this season to make bad shows. In an attempt to cut costs, many of their new entries were ordered to series without an official pilot. The development process is sorely missed in shows like Kath & Kim (constant snarkiness does not equal comedy), Knight Rider (to be fair, extra time probably wouldn't have made this one any better) and My Own Worst Enemy, a head-spinning, head-scratching head trip.
Christian Slater, with his gravelly voice, plays two men trapped in the same body: Henry, a mild-mannered consultant, and Edward, a spy who volunteered for the experiment that led to him having two personalities. One fateful day, the technology that has kept the two identities separate malfunctions and Henry is made aware of his alter ego. If you haven't guessed already, intelligibility is not one of this show's priorities. In fact, the plot is so complicated that the writers apparently have to remind themselves what's going on, having Alfre Woodard deliver a monologue twenty minutes into the second episode in which she reiterates Henry's situation (as if he weren't already painfully aware). It's a shame to see Woodard in this drivel, especially after her arc during Desperate Housewives' second season went nowhere. And Slater doesn't do much to let the audience know which identity he is inhabiting; what could be done by giving both Edward and Henry some kind of unique personality trait is instead done through dialogue.
My Own Worst Enemy has all the inscrutability of Alias with none of the charm. Edward's rationale for participating in this experiment to begin with is explained thusly: "To prove the existence of free will, a person must do a thing he does not want to do." That's how I felt while sitting through this show. Rest assured, I won't be making that mistake again.
Christian Slater, with his gravelly voice, plays two men trapped in the same body: Henry, a mild-mannered consultant, and Edward, a spy who volunteered for the experiment that led to him having two personalities. One fateful day, the technology that has kept the two identities separate malfunctions and Henry is made aware of his alter ego. If you haven't guessed already, intelligibility is not one of this show's priorities. In fact, the plot is so complicated that the writers apparently have to remind themselves what's going on, having Alfre Woodard deliver a monologue twenty minutes into the second episode in which she reiterates Henry's situation (as if he weren't already painfully aware). It's a shame to see Woodard in this drivel, especially after her arc during Desperate Housewives' second season went nowhere. And Slater doesn't do much to let the audience know which identity he is inhabiting; what could be done by giving both Edward and Henry some kind of unique personality trait is instead done through dialogue.
My Own Worst Enemy has all the inscrutability of Alias with none of the charm. Edward's rationale for participating in this experiment to begin with is explained thusly: "To prove the existence of free will, a person must do a thing he does not want to do." That's how I felt while sitting through this show. Rest assured, I won't be making that mistake again.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Get Me Off This Island!
NBC's Crusoe has all the makings of an epic period piece: sweeping score, sumptuous scenery, first-rate production design and costumes. But after a spectacular opening sequence filled with booby traps and narrow escapes, the plot ends up being a run-of-the-mill story about pirates seeking gold. Boring! The show bears the obvious imprint of the Pirates of the Caribbean films, with plenty of derring-do and swashbuckling, as well as an anachronistic tough gurrl modeled after Keira Knightley. Having built several elaborate ways to help him get around the island, Crusoe (Philip Winchester) has clearly been here for a while. So it's a bit of a laugh when, during the second half of the two-hour premiere, even more scallywags show up. With all these people stumbling onto the island, how is it that Crusoe has gone so long without being rescued? The show is reminiscent of erstwhile actioners like Hercules: The Legendary Journeys and Xena: Warrior Princess. But where those shows reveled in their corniness, Crusoe seems determined to deliver a more austere viewing experience. What should be escapist entertainment ends up being a slog to sit through.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Send Mars to the Moon
It's one thing to have a show set in the '70s. It's another thing altogether for that show to feel as though it were made in the '70s. ABC's Life on Mars feels about as sophisticated as an episode of Charlie's Angels, with an added dose of police brutatilty for that modern flair. Having never seen the original BBC series on which this crime drama is based, I can't offer a comparison. But on its own merits, this Mars remake leaves much to be desired. The premise: Sam Tyler (Jason O'Mara, looking bored already) gets hit by a car in 2008 and somehow wakes up in 1973. One of the first sights Sam sees is the World Trade Center, gloriously digitized back into the New York skyline, an emotional handwringer for the audience. And that's about the only emotional moment the show has to offer. From there, executive producers Scott Rosenberg, Josh Applebaum and Andre Nemec trot out leaden dialogue that could be left over from their last effort, the unwatchable October Road.
What’s particularly frustrating about Mars is that none of the characters, including Sam himself, is appropriately unsettled by what he claims is happening to him. If you were meeting a coworker for the first time—a cop, no less—who said he just arrived from the future, would you go on as if nothing about this scenario was strange, or would you suggest he get some mental help? Neither Michael Imperioli nor Harvey Keitel (who needs to be either tougher or more cheeky to make his character work) really give Sam’s assertions a second thought, and Gretchen Mol’s character pretty much believes him on principle. The show officially lost me when Sam, staring into a half-cracked mirror, moved his head back and forth between the two sides, chanting “real” and “unreal” not once, but three times. Who does that kind of thing? The BBC resolved this whole story in the span of 16 episodes, leaving one to wonder whether this is a concept that can (should?) sustain itself over the course of several seasons. Then again, given the show’s 26 percent ratings tumble in week two, that may not be a concern for too long.
What’s particularly frustrating about Mars is that none of the characters, including Sam himself, is appropriately unsettled by what he claims is happening to him. If you were meeting a coworker for the first time—a cop, no less—who said he just arrived from the future, would you go on as if nothing about this scenario was strange, or would you suggest he get some mental help? Neither Michael Imperioli nor Harvey Keitel (who needs to be either tougher or more cheeky to make his character work) really give Sam’s assertions a second thought, and Gretchen Mol’s character pretty much believes him on principle. The show officially lost me when Sam, staring into a half-cracked mirror, moved his head back and forth between the two sides, chanting “real” and “unreal” not once, but three times. Who does that kind of thing? The BBC resolved this whole story in the span of 16 episodes, leaving one to wonder whether this is a concept that can (should?) sustain itself over the course of several seasons. Then again, given the show’s 26 percent ratings tumble in week two, that may not be a concern for too long.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Believe in Eli Stone
Eli Stone's therapist thinks the absence of the fantastic in his life, following the surgery he had to remove a brain aneurysm in last season's finale, has Eli in a funk. And she should know. After all, as it turns out, his therapist (Sigourney Weaver) is one of his visions. One thing is for sure, TV is a more fantastic place for having a show like Eli Stone. Lucky for us, ABC loves the show, with word coming today that the network has ordered four additional scripts on top of its 13-episode order.
As the season premiere begins, the law office has a noticeably downbeat feel to it. Jordan (the undeniable Victor Garber) isn't feeling the same good vibrations that Eli (Jonny Lee Miller, who manages to be both hangdog and euphoric at the same time) used to bring. Even Patti (Loretta Devine), who couldn't stand Eli's visions, gives him an MP3 player, so he can still hear music in his head. When Jordan gets trapped inside a bank after a crane collapse, Eli tries to convince the rescuers that he knows where Jordan is. Even after successfully predicting an earthquake, Eli's prophetic pronouncements are still met with skepticism. He wants nothing more than to have those around him experience the same degree of faith that he has. Because being a lawyer with a conscious isn't hard enough as it is...
By the end of the episode, with Jordan saved and eager to inspire change, Eli learns that his aneurysm (momentarily transferred to his brother, in whose head the crane vision originated) and the blessing/curse images that come along with it are his destiny. In the words of his therapist, "normal is a failure of potential." There is no such failure for this show as a whole, which, after a somewhat ordinary start, realized its own potential midway through its first season. Sit back and relish the magical journey of one man who dares to make the world a better place.
As the season premiere begins, the law office has a noticeably downbeat feel to it. Jordan (the undeniable Victor Garber) isn't feeling the same good vibrations that Eli (Jonny Lee Miller, who manages to be both hangdog and euphoric at the same time) used to bring. Even Patti (Loretta Devine), who couldn't stand Eli's visions, gives him an MP3 player, so he can still hear music in his head. When Jordan gets trapped inside a bank after a crane collapse, Eli tries to convince the rescuers that he knows where Jordan is. Even after successfully predicting an earthquake, Eli's prophetic pronouncements are still met with skepticism. He wants nothing more than to have those around him experience the same degree of faith that he has. Because being a lawyer with a conscious isn't hard enough as it is...
By the end of the episode, with Jordan saved and eager to inspire change, Eli learns that his aneurysm (momentarily transferred to his brother, in whose head the crane vision originated) and the blessing/curse images that come along with it are his destiny. In the words of his therapist, "normal is a failure of potential." There is no such failure for this show as a whole, which, after a somewhat ordinary start, realized its own potential midway through its first season. Sit back and relish the magical journey of one man who dares to make the world a better place.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Monday's Best Worst Show
There isn't much competition when it comes to new comedies this season, but even in a more congested year Worst Week would be a winner. Kyle Bornheimer (he's the guy who leaves those embarrassing voicemails in the T-Mobile ads) embodies his Everyman character with charm and gusto as he tries to impress the parents of his newly pregnant fiance. The simplest of tasks, like raking the lawn or walking the dog, become Herculean tasks when Sam is involved. Sam is the personification of good intentions gone wrong; he's like a grown-up Charlie Brown, still determined to kick that football, even when the ball takes the form of future in-laws. Kurtwood Smith (That '70s Show) brings that slow-burn he does so well, glaring at Sam with enough disdain to make the poor guy wish he'd never been born. While the show does seem to have a limited, slapsticky premise, so far it has done a good job of keeping things lively. Worst Week has a bit of an edge, but in many ways is a throwback to sitcoms of old, when a well-placed sight gag or malapropism was all you needed to get a big laugh.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Private's Parts Not Worth Looking At
I spent most of Private Practice's strike-shortened first season hoping that Kate Walsh's Addison would come to her senses and return to the halls of Seattle Grace. Grey's Anatomy certainly suffered from her absence and the spinoff lacked clear direction. Many producers, Private Practice creator Shonda Rhimes among them, have gone on record as saying that the strike was a creative boon, allowing them precious time to sort through what wasn't working. So I was pleasantly surprised when the show returned last week from a 10-month hiatus with what was easily its best episode so far. A more even tone. Medical stories capable of sparking debate. Money-induced friction between friends and coworkers. There was even marginally less time devoted to the tiresome office romances that are Rhimes's bread-and-butter. All in all, a positive start.
Alas, the triumph was to be short-lived. Last night's episode was as empty--not to mention icky--as any produced during the first season. The main story centered on a couple who came in for fertility advice, only to discover that they are actually brother and sister, random products of the same sperm donor. Later, the sister was outraged when she learned that her brother already knew they were related, having done some digging of his own after he had suspicions about their similarities. All of a sudden, she's disgusted by the thought of continuing a relationship with her brother, as if it were perfectly acceptable when she thought the revelation was news to both of them. Creepy much?
Perhaps most egregiously unforgivable is the show's treatment of Audra McDonald. Instead of giving her the material she deserves, she is made to do things like harumph around the office for most of the hour, angry with Addision and Sam for going behind her back to inform the rest of the Oceanside Wellness staff about the group's financial troubles. This isn't the first time the show has wasted McDonald's talents; one of her character's "quirks" is a love for cake, and she spent a good portion of an episode from last year shoveling the stuff into her mouth. It hurts to see one of the great stage actresses reduced to this kind of vapidity.
And how can a show that is so obsessed with sex--another Rhimes trademark--be filled with characters who are inherently unhappy? For as often as these people get laid, they should be walking around with perpetual grins rather than woe-is-me attitudes. Shouldn't these kinds of private practices lead to a little more levity?
Alas, the triumph was to be short-lived. Last night's episode was as empty--not to mention icky--as any produced during the first season. The main story centered on a couple who came in for fertility advice, only to discover that they are actually brother and sister, random products of the same sperm donor. Later, the sister was outraged when she learned that her brother already knew they were related, having done some digging of his own after he had suspicions about their similarities. All of a sudden, she's disgusted by the thought of continuing a relationship with her brother, as if it were perfectly acceptable when she thought the revelation was news to both of them. Creepy much?
Perhaps most egregiously unforgivable is the show's treatment of Audra McDonald. Instead of giving her the material she deserves, she is made to do things like harumph around the office for most of the hour, angry with Addision and Sam for going behind her back to inform the rest of the Oceanside Wellness staff about the group's financial troubles. This isn't the first time the show has wasted McDonald's talents; one of her character's "quirks" is a love for cake, and she spent a good portion of an episode from last year shoveling the stuff into her mouth. It hurts to see one of the great stage actresses reduced to this kind of vapidity.
And how can a show that is so obsessed with sex--another Rhimes trademark--be filled with characters who are inherently unhappy? For as often as these people get laid, they should be walking around with perpetual grins rather than woe-is-me attitudes. Shouldn't these kinds of private practices lead to a little more levity?
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Chuck Versus the Critic
Chuck was in top form this week after a fun but predictable season premiere. (Casey killing Chuck? It'll never happen. The show's named after him!) John Larroquette was perfectly cast as a martini-swilling spy called on to give the leading man some seduction tips. It was like revisiting Larroquette's Night Court character Dan Fielding, 15 years older but ever the self-deluded lothario. The episode also dealt with the ongoing attraction between Chuck and Sarah, a story line that's moving along nicely without wearing out its welcome. Professional boundaries prevent the pair from giving in to their omnipresent desires, despite the fact that Sarah was previously involved with her spy cohort Bryce, a figure who inconveniently resurfaced just as Chuck was about to pronounce his feelings for Sarah.
The show is light as air, but is made very enjoyable by the energetic performances, especially Zachary Levi as Chuck. Capable of delivering lines with pitch-perfect comic timing (he gave driving directions to the people holding Sarah and Casey captive) and deftly handling physical comedy, Levi is certainly up to the task of being this show's gooey center. And Yvonne Strahovski (appropriately nicknamed "Strahotski" by her costars and online admirers) and Adam Baldwin do an excellent job of balancing the serious moments with the jokey ones.
If Chuck has a problem it's in the supporting cast. The Buy More where Chuck works is loaded with so many nerds that they have a tendency to melt into one. It's like a Hydra with an endless supply of replacement nerd heads. Also not adding much to the proceedings are Chuck's sister Ellie and her fiance Devon, aka Captain Awesome. It often feels as if the writers have to stretch to include these two in the story. Since they're not in on Chuck's secret life, it makes it all the harder to work them in organically.
Minor quibbles, though, for what is essentially escapist fare. NBC seems to agree. The network granted the series a full season pickup over the summer based solely on its creative strength. Now all they need is for more people to show up in front of their TV sets to fully justify their vote of confidence.
The show is light as air, but is made very enjoyable by the energetic performances, especially Zachary Levi as Chuck. Capable of delivering lines with pitch-perfect comic timing (he gave driving directions to the people holding Sarah and Casey captive) and deftly handling physical comedy, Levi is certainly up to the task of being this show's gooey center. And Yvonne Strahovski (appropriately nicknamed "Strahotski" by her costars and online admirers) and Adam Baldwin do an excellent job of balancing the serious moments with the jokey ones.
If Chuck has a problem it's in the supporting cast. The Buy More where Chuck works is loaded with so many nerds that they have a tendency to melt into one. It's like a Hydra with an endless supply of replacement nerd heads. Also not adding much to the proceedings are Chuck's sister Ellie and her fiance Devon, aka Captain Awesome. It often feels as if the writers have to stretch to include these two in the story. Since they're not in on Chuck's secret life, it makes it all the harder to work them in organically.
Minor quibbles, though, for what is essentially escapist fare. NBC seems to agree. The network granted the series a full season pickup over the summer based solely on its creative strength. Now all they need is for more people to show up in front of their TV sets to fully justify their vote of confidence.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Dying Daisies
Sometimes the love other critics have for a particular show just plain escapes me. For example, I can appreciate Mad Men as a detailed, heavily researched time capsule, but that doesn't make its somber, deliberate pace any more entertaining. Bones is another one I don't get, a pedestrian procedural that, with the exception of David Boreanaz, boasts a rather wooden cast. (Side rant: I was particularly bugged when Brennan, who in addition to being a forensics expert is also a bestselling author, uttered the phrase “serious as a gas attack.” What writer doesn’t know that it’s supposed to be “heart attack.” These kinds of things go on all the time on this dippy little show.)
Now add Pushing Daisies to the list. While the pilot was a scrumptious introduction to a whimsical world, the show quickly stumbled in its storytelling ability. This week’s season premiere was built around the death of a spokesmodel for a bee-related business and I lost interest in finding out whodunit by the time the first commercial break came around. Jim Dale’s narration feels like a cheat, and it breaks a cardinal rule: show, don’t tell. By having the events laid out in thirty-second narrative bites, the show crams a lot of story into a shorter amount of time. But because the information goes by so quickly, most of it doesn’t even register. The show’s storybook set design goes down as easily as honey (though the cheap-looking special effects leave something to be desired), but the death-of-the-week usually leaves me cold (pun intended).
For the most part, the actors are all fine and there are some engaging characters here to be sure, but they're all done a disservice by writers who seem to be too enamored of their own cuteness. Specifically, I could do without Anna Friel, whose Chuck is so cloying that I long for Ned to touch her again so their problematic romance can finally come to an end. Creator Bryan Fuller has been in the company of death before; he was also responsible for Showtime's Dead Like Me. That show had a sassy center and was fun to watch even as it handled its subject in a much more morose manner. Given the 50-percent drop Daisies has taken in the ratings since its premiere last year, it may not be amongst the living for much longer. And not even Ned’s magical touch will be able to bring this one back from the dead.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
"Do You Deserve a Smoothie?"
The title is a reference to a line that Coach Taylor hollered at his meandering football squad during practice on the season premiere of Friday Night Lights. Last night it was the writers of this insanely well-made show who deserved a smoothie. Thanks to a partnership between DirecTV and NBC (DirecTV’s 101 Network gets first-run rights), TV fans across the country get to spend at least one more season with the denizens of Dillon, Texas. Coach's tirade aside, one of the things that sets FNL apart from almost every other show on TV is the way it can say so much without a single word being uttered. The premiere saw quarterback Matt Saracen trumped by a freshman phenom, and the uncertainty about his future with the team was written all over his face, as well as that of his grandmother, who empathized from the bleachers. No dialogue is necessary when you’ve got actors with life experience oozing out of every pore. And on this show, none ooze more than Kyle Chandler and Connie Britton, criminally overlooked when it comes to major TV awards. The pair, as football coach and newly promoted school principal, carry the weight of Dillon on their shoulders, while trying to maintain credibility as parents to their two daughters. Unlike some TV characters (I’m thinking about you, Meredith Grey), you’ll never find Chandler, Britton, et al., saying something you wouldn’t say yourself. This is real, genuine, satisfying entertainment that is an absolute privilege to watch.
Sticking with DirecTV, the 101 Network also aired a preview of the new drama Crash, premiering on Starz later this month. Based on 2005’s Academy Award winner for Best Picture, the first episode was an absolute mess. (I realize I’m going against my two-episodes-before-judgment rule, but I don’t subscribe to Starz, so this is all I’m likely to see.) You know you’re in for something less than enjoyable when the show opens with Dennis Hopper lamenting the state of his testicles. From here, we’re introduced (barely) to a cast of characters whose lives will presumably intersect one day. With the exception of a cop and an EMT, nobody is put into any kind of context; most of them seem to make their living by being angry and yelling all the time. The pilot ended with a series of cliffhangers, none of them making much sense, and none of them making me want to come back to see them resolved. If this is intended to be a vehicle to get out the message about race relations, I think we’re all better off being ignorant. An overrated film is now an unwatchable series.
Sticking with DirecTV, the 101 Network also aired a preview of the new drama Crash, premiering on Starz later this month. Based on 2005’s Academy Award winner for Best Picture, the first episode was an absolute mess. (I realize I’m going against my two-episodes-before-judgment rule, but I don’t subscribe to Starz, so this is all I’m likely to see.) You know you’re in for something less than enjoyable when the show opens with Dennis Hopper lamenting the state of his testicles. From here, we’re introduced (barely) to a cast of characters whose lives will presumably intersect one day. With the exception of a cop and an EMT, nobody is put into any kind of context; most of them seem to make their living by being angry and yelling all the time. The pilot ended with a series of cliffhangers, none of them making much sense, and none of them making me want to come back to see them resolved. If this is intended to be a vehicle to get out the message about race relations, I think we’re all better off being ignorant. An overrated film is now an unwatchable series.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Drama Defines Us
Sunday night was all about relationships, beginning with the season premiere of Showtime’s Dexter. If season one was about Dexter discovering the truth about his past, and season two was about Dexter trying to secure a jail-free future, then season three finds our ambiguous hero living in the now. With the Bay Harbor Butcher investigation behind him, Dexter (the creepy-funny Michael C. Hall) is happily back to his old ways, putting together a new slide collection that has about a half-dozen entries so far. But something goes wrong when Dexter sets his sights on a drug dealer killing co-eds, and ends up straying outside of “the code,” spontaneously killing a man who appears to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Turns out the victim is the brother of ADA Miguel Prado (played by Jimmy Smits with an understated swagger). Once again, Dexter is in the awkward position of having to investigate his own murder, but this time he struggles to justify what he’s done (the worst piece of dirt that’s dredged up about the victim is that he was a junkie who owed his dealer some money). So many relationship dynamics were in play in this episode: killer/victim (does Dexter have feelings after all?), brother/sister (Dex is in no mood to celebrate his late father’s birthday with sister Deb), boyfriend/girlfriend (Dexter and Rita go at it with renewed vigor), superior/underling (new sergeant Angel takes Deb off the Prado case). All topped off by the revelation that Dexter may be a daddy soon. In the world of this brilliant show, there’s no scarier possibility than the passing down of the serial killer gene from father to son (or daughter).
Desperate Housewives hit the reset button as its new season moved the story ahead five years. (Does this mean that the show is now taking place in the present or is it supposed to be 2013? I’m not sure.) Despite the attempt, many of the relationships here feel like the same old thing. Uptight Bree, now a version of Martha Stewart, is still acting as though she’s just “made love to an ice cube.” Susan is still avoiding true intimacy, this time with a painter instead of a plumber. Lynette is still yelling at her now-teenage twin boys. And Gaby is still hopelessly obsessed with appearance, though it’s her four-year-old daughter’s rather than her own. Overall, nothing feels new or original about this time-blasted Wisteria Lane. That said, my expectations were rather low for this premiere (I’ve never been a huge fan of the show to begin with), so I can’t say that I was disappointed. It just would’ve been nice if creater Marc Cherry had done something truly different and really blown me away. As always, Felicity Huffman and Doug Savant play off each other nicely; their scenes are easily the most engaging and natural of the bunch. Though it’s never been the show’s strong suit, they try once again to set up a mystery, this time surrounding Edie’s new husband, played by Neal McDonough. Is he crazy? Will his failure to take his medication lead to a rage-induced freakout? Will Desperate Housewives continue to toe the line without trying anything really innovative? Yes, yes, and, sadly, yes.
Finally, the only thing more dramatic than a Walker family dinner is a Walker weekend getaway. Secrets were dropped like so much glass as the Brothers & Sisters clan tried to enjoy a little R&R at Kevin’s boss’s Laguna house. The rundown: Tommy has to fire Kevin, Justin & Rebecca are dating, there’s another long lost Walker sibling, Sarah let Nora write Kitty’s adoption recommendation letter for her. And it’s only their first week back! The pain on everyone’s face as they all suffered through their own forms of betrayal was palpable. Family is never easy and the Walkers have never led a sugar-coated existence. No matter how much matriarch Nora (the great Sally Field) tries to keep the mood upbeat, reality breaks through and forces the family to confront the truth. This is a fine ensemble, and everyone involved is more than up to the challenge of the material they’re given. What started off two years ago as a heavy-handed, self-serious show has evolved into one of the finest dramas currently on TV. Brothers & Sisters does something extraordinary—it makes spending time with family more than an obligation. It makes it enjoyable.
Desperate Housewives hit the reset button as its new season moved the story ahead five years. (Does this mean that the show is now taking place in the present or is it supposed to be 2013? I’m not sure.) Despite the attempt, many of the relationships here feel like the same old thing. Uptight Bree, now a version of Martha Stewart, is still acting as though she’s just “made love to an ice cube.” Susan is still avoiding true intimacy, this time with a painter instead of a plumber. Lynette is still yelling at her now-teenage twin boys. And Gaby is still hopelessly obsessed with appearance, though it’s her four-year-old daughter’s rather than her own. Overall, nothing feels new or original about this time-blasted Wisteria Lane. That said, my expectations were rather low for this premiere (I’ve never been a huge fan of the show to begin with), so I can’t say that I was disappointed. It just would’ve been nice if creater Marc Cherry had done something truly different and really blown me away. As always, Felicity Huffman and Doug Savant play off each other nicely; their scenes are easily the most engaging and natural of the bunch. Though it’s never been the show’s strong suit, they try once again to set up a mystery, this time surrounding Edie’s new husband, played by Neal McDonough. Is he crazy? Will his failure to take his medication lead to a rage-induced freakout? Will Desperate Housewives continue to toe the line without trying anything really innovative? Yes, yes, and, sadly, yes.
Finally, the only thing more dramatic than a Walker family dinner is a Walker weekend getaway. Secrets were dropped like so much glass as the Brothers & Sisters clan tried to enjoy a little R&R at Kevin’s boss’s Laguna house. The rundown: Tommy has to fire Kevin, Justin & Rebecca are dating, there’s another long lost Walker sibling, Sarah let Nora write Kitty’s adoption recommendation letter for her. And it’s only their first week back! The pain on everyone’s face as they all suffered through their own forms of betrayal was palpable. Family is never easy and the Walkers have never led a sugar-coated existence. No matter how much matriarch Nora (the great Sally Field) tries to keep the mood upbeat, reality breaks through and forces the family to confront the truth. This is a fine ensemble, and everyone involved is more than up to the challenge of the material they’re given. What started off two years ago as a heavy-handed, self-serious show has evolved into one of the finest dramas currently on TV. Brothers & Sisters does something extraordinary—it makes spending time with family more than an obligation. It makes it enjoyable.
Friday, September 26, 2008
RIP, DND
A quick note to recognize the passing of Fox's "comedy" Do Not Disturb, the new season's first cancellation. This is another one of those shows that tried my patience as I sincerely tried to make it through two episodes before declaring it a loser (I think I actually deserve props for even making it halfway through the second). TV Guide.com reported that the producers sent out apologies to critics for making such a god-awful show. Could Hollywood actually be developing self awareness? It boggles the mind that Jerry O'Connell can manage to land Rebecca Romijn yet can't find himself a better vehicle than this mess, his follow-up to last year's stinker Carpoolers. Better luck next time, Jer.
Bad TV: Opportunity Knocks on Knight's Door
Ordinarily my policy is to wait until I’ve seen two episodes of a show before casting judgment. But two series debuted this week that may test my resolve if I have to sit through another hour of each.
Opportunity Knocks (ABC, Tuesday) can be lauded for its unifying theme, daring family members to actually prove how well they know—and presumably like—each other. The compliments end there. Host JD Roth screams questions at contestants over the din of the block party assembled in front of the family’s home (at least he’s not as loud and obnoxious as Brooke Burns and Mark Thompson on Fox’s even more inane Hole in the Wall). Said contestants earn cash and/or prizes with each correct answer. There isn’t really anything glaringly awful about the show, nor is there any real incentive to watch. Some sample questions: Which state quarter is missing from your son’s collection? Identify the cheerleading move that won your sister accolades. How much does your husband weigh? WHO CARES? Only 6.6 million people watched the show’s premiere, so maybe family togetherness isn’t all that interesting after all.
On Wednesday, we were treated (or not) to the premiere of Knight Rider. If NBC had learned anything from the February movie that re-launched this franchise, they wouldn’t have greenlighted the project to begin with. This is the kind of show where there’s always time for a quick kiss in the middle of a getaway and where our heroes have stripped down to their underwear—in a speeding car, no less—before the ten-minute mark. Considering that the executive producer is Gary Scott Thompson, who spent the last five years making the weekly eye candy fluff that was Las Vegas, it should come as no surprise that Knight Rider favors style over substance. Story takes a backseat to KITT’s ever-changing exterior, though I will admit that, however inexplicable, it’s cool to see KITT morph from a sports car to a pick-up truck. Val Kilmer voices KITT with absolutely no inflection, and Justin Bruening, as Michael Knight, believes that imitating Kilmer's vocal style is the best way to go here. Somebody should have enrolled Bruening in some acting classes during the seven-month furlough between movie and series. How did Swingers and Bourne Identity director Doug Liman get involved in this dreck, not to mention one-time Oscar nominee Bruce Davison? This is the kind of show where the character with the “Is he good or is he evil?” plotline (played by Kingpin’s Yancey Arias) might actually end up rubbing his hands together and letting out a dastardly “Waa-aa-aahh!” Ugh.
Opportunity Knocks (ABC, Tuesday) can be lauded for its unifying theme, daring family members to actually prove how well they know—and presumably like—each other. The compliments end there. Host JD Roth screams questions at contestants over the din of the block party assembled in front of the family’s home (at least he’s not as loud and obnoxious as Brooke Burns and Mark Thompson on Fox’s even more inane Hole in the Wall). Said contestants earn cash and/or prizes with each correct answer. There isn’t really anything glaringly awful about the show, nor is there any real incentive to watch. Some sample questions: Which state quarter is missing from your son’s collection? Identify the cheerleading move that won your sister accolades. How much does your husband weigh? WHO CARES? Only 6.6 million people watched the show’s premiere, so maybe family togetherness isn’t all that interesting after all.
On Wednesday, we were treated (or not) to the premiere of Knight Rider. If NBC had learned anything from the February movie that re-launched this franchise, they wouldn’t have greenlighted the project to begin with. This is the kind of show where there’s always time for a quick kiss in the middle of a getaway and where our heroes have stripped down to their underwear—in a speeding car, no less—before the ten-minute mark. Considering that the executive producer is Gary Scott Thompson, who spent the last five years making the weekly eye candy fluff that was Las Vegas, it should come as no surprise that Knight Rider favors style over substance. Story takes a backseat to KITT’s ever-changing exterior, though I will admit that, however inexplicable, it’s cool to see KITT morph from a sports car to a pick-up truck. Val Kilmer voices KITT with absolutely no inflection, and Justin Bruening, as Michael Knight, believes that imitating Kilmer's vocal style is the best way to go here. Somebody should have enrolled Bruening in some acting classes during the seven-month furlough between movie and series. How did Swingers and Bourne Identity director Doug Liman get involved in this dreck, not to mention one-time Oscar nominee Bruce Davison? This is the kind of show where the character with the “Is he good or is he evil?” plotline (played by Kingpin’s Yancey Arias) might actually end up rubbing his hands together and letting out a dastardly “Waa-aa-aahh!” Ugh.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Fox Tuesday: Does Your Head Hurt Yet?
It was “Let’s drill holes in people’s heads” night on Fox Tuesday as both House and Fringe took surgical instruments to their subjects’ brains. The case-of-the-week on House revolved around donor recipients who were dropping dead or getting ill at the same time. After spinning the Wheel O’ Diagnoses several times, House finally saved the day by determining that the donor had cancerous stem cells, which essentially made the donated organs fake. Or something like that. I won’t pretend that I actually understand everything that happens on an episode of House. Most of the dialogue goes by in such a whoosh that I can hardly tell a myocardial infarction from a surplus of creatinine. And yet the show still manages to suck me in.
While the medical procedural aspect of the show has worn a bit thin going into season five, I still have great respect for the writers. It takes a great team (with the aid of medical consultants) to come up with so many viable possibilities for what something isn’t before settling on what it actually is. Michael Weston (Law & Order: SVU) joined the cast last night as Lucas Douglas, a PI who is more than capable of trading barbs with his employer House, who hired him as a way to find out more about his patients… and Wilson (Robert Sean Leonard). House is still grappling with the fallout from last season’s brilliant two-part finale in which Wilson’s girlfriend Amber died after a bus crash. The catch: she never would have been on the bus if it hadn’t been for a drunk House. The scenes between House and Wilson, though few, bleed with emotion, and are forcing House to realize that if he ever wants Wilson to be his friend again he’s going to have to do things very differently.
From medical mumbo jumbo to the scientific variety: three episodes in, the jury’s still out on Fringe. If I have a hard time understanding what’s happening on House, I don’t stand a chance with this one. Like a next generation X-Files, the team here investigates “fringe science,” such as psychokinesis, teleportation, and artificial intelligence. The leads are engaging, particularly newcomer Anna Torv, who, whether this show succeeds or fails, definitely has a career ahead of her. Joshua Jackson has a hard time letting go of his Pacey character from Dawson’s Creek, but his George Clooney-lite charisma still gets the job done.
No matter how much I want to like Fringe—and the JJ Abrams (Lost, Alias) pedigree certainly dictates that I should—the show’s bogged-down stories keep me from totally connecting with it. At least The X-Files tried to make sense; Fringe seems content to leave its audience in a stupor, and not the good kind. The aforementioned brain-drilling came as the team attempted to get inside the mind of a man who could pick up people’s thoughts or images or conversations just as something bad was about to happen. Other than to tell you that the apparent bad guy jumped in front of a train, I really have no idea how this was all worked out. And while I’m on the subject of people being hit by trains/buses/trucks… This device has been used more and more lately, and it almost always rings false. These things don’t just sneak up on you; they make a lot of noise! Yet people continue to step off curbs as if they had no idea a 14,000-pound vehicle was hurtling toward them. Granted, the one on Fringe was intended as a suicide, but that doesn’t make its’ use seem any less trite. Nor does it necessarily make me want to tune in again next week.
While the medical procedural aspect of the show has worn a bit thin going into season five, I still have great respect for the writers. It takes a great team (with the aid of medical consultants) to come up with so many viable possibilities for what something isn’t before settling on what it actually is. Michael Weston (Law & Order: SVU) joined the cast last night as Lucas Douglas, a PI who is more than capable of trading barbs with his employer House, who hired him as a way to find out more about his patients… and Wilson (Robert Sean Leonard). House is still grappling with the fallout from last season’s brilliant two-part finale in which Wilson’s girlfriend Amber died after a bus crash. The catch: she never would have been on the bus if it hadn’t been for a drunk House. The scenes between House and Wilson, though few, bleed with emotion, and are forcing House to realize that if he ever wants Wilson to be his friend again he’s going to have to do things very differently.
From medical mumbo jumbo to the scientific variety: three episodes in, the jury’s still out on Fringe. If I have a hard time understanding what’s happening on House, I don’t stand a chance with this one. Like a next generation X-Files, the team here investigates “fringe science,” such as psychokinesis, teleportation, and artificial intelligence. The leads are engaging, particularly newcomer Anna Torv, who, whether this show succeeds or fails, definitely has a career ahead of her. Joshua Jackson has a hard time letting go of his Pacey character from Dawson’s Creek, but his George Clooney-lite charisma still gets the job done.
No matter how much I want to like Fringe—and the JJ Abrams (Lost, Alias) pedigree certainly dictates that I should—the show’s bogged-down stories keep me from totally connecting with it. At least The X-Files tried to make sense; Fringe seems content to leave its audience in a stupor, and not the good kind. The aforementioned brain-drilling came as the team attempted to get inside the mind of a man who could pick up people’s thoughts or images or conversations just as something bad was about to happen. Other than to tell you that the apparent bad guy jumped in front of a train, I really have no idea how this was all worked out. And while I’m on the subject of people being hit by trains/buses/trucks… This device has been used more and more lately, and it almost always rings false. These things don’t just sneak up on you; they make a lot of noise! Yet people continue to step off curbs as if they had no idea a 14,000-pound vehicle was hurtling toward them. Granted, the one on Fringe was intended as a suicide, but that doesn’t make its’ use seem any less trite. Nor does it necessarily make me want to tune in again next week.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Oh, What a (Boring) Night!
Welcome to my blog! I had hoped to start—on this first day of the 2008-09 TV season—by raving about last night’s 60th anniversary Emmy telecast. Alas, both the show and the winners were relatively low-key. That is to say, the whole thing was kinda boring.
There were early indications as to kind of night it would be when Oprah Winfrey kicked off the show by reminding viewers how great she is for getting people to buy books again, after which our quintet of hosts—Emmy nominees Tom Bergeron, Heidi Klum, Howie Mandel, Jeff Probst, and Ryan Seacrest—emerged to do a time-wasting bit about how they hadn’t planned any bits. It wasn’t long before the producers apparently realized that this engine could run more smoothly if they kept the hosts backstage and introduced presenters via loudspeaker instead. When it came time for their category, the hosts were lined up on stage as if awaiting a firing squad while Jimmy Kimmel, who described them as “sufficient,” presented their award in a befitting manner: he set up the announcement of the winner and then made them sit through a commercial break to find out which of them won. Ultimately, it was too much time spent on a rather insignificant award, though it was nice to see Probst acknowledged for the yeoman’s work he’s been doing on Survivor for over eight years now.
The show offered few highlights, with the most noteworthy being Ricky Gervais’s demanding that a stone-faced Steve Carell return the Emmy that he claimed last year on the absent Gervais’s behalf. David Boreanaz provided the night’s most inadvertently funny moment; he couldn’t have looked more angry about having to present with reality “star” Lauren Conrad, then barked, “It’s your line,” when Conrad failed to read from the teleprompter quickly enough.
As far as the winners go, there were few surprises. The 30 Rock love continued on the comedy side. Tina Fey and Alec Baldwin took home acting honors, while Fey also won for writing and took the stage again at the end of the night as the NBC show picked up its second award for Best Comedy. During her speeches, Fey thanked her parents for giving her “confidence that is disproportionate with my looks and abilities,” and shamelessly listed all the places one can watch 30 Rock, whether online, on a wireless device, or on good old-fashioned broadcast TV. On the drama side, AMC’s Mad Men (a show I personally find intensely overrated and borderline dull) took the trophy in the series category. Glenn Close won for her electrifying turn in FX’s Damages, as did her costar Ċ½eljko Ivanek, a veteran character actor finally getting his due. Bryan Cranston, another long-neglected actor, snuck in under-the-radar for his terrific performance in AMC’s Breaking Bad. HBO’s John Adams went away with 13 awards, including Best Miniseries (which allowed for a brief Forrest Gump reunion between producer Tom Hanks and presenter Sally Field) and acting awards for stars Paul Giamatti and Laura Linney. CBS’s The Amazing Race remains the only show to claim the prize in the Reality/Competition category, winning for the sixth straight time. And past winners Jean Smart (collecting her first trophy for ABC’s Samantha Who?), Jeremy Piven (HBO’s Entourage), and Comedy Central’s The Daily Show with Jon Stewart each came away with another golden lady.
All in all, a rather uneventful evening, generally lacking the usual “gratuitous indulgence of self-gratification” that Julia Louis-Dreyfus promised early on. Politics dominated the night; just about everyone had something to say about our current regime and the potential of the next one. Whether an awards show is the place for such talk is the topic of another debate entirely.
But enough about the Emmys. Today marks the beginning of a whole new season, one that is filled with second chances for shows that were affected by the writers’ strike. How will they fare? Who will be the next breakout star? I, for one, can’t wait to find out. And I can’t wait to write about it.
There were early indications as to kind of night it would be when Oprah Winfrey kicked off the show by reminding viewers how great she is for getting people to buy books again, after which our quintet of hosts—Emmy nominees Tom Bergeron, Heidi Klum, Howie Mandel, Jeff Probst, and Ryan Seacrest—emerged to do a time-wasting bit about how they hadn’t planned any bits. It wasn’t long before the producers apparently realized that this engine could run more smoothly if they kept the hosts backstage and introduced presenters via loudspeaker instead. When it came time for their category, the hosts were lined up on stage as if awaiting a firing squad while Jimmy Kimmel, who described them as “sufficient,” presented their award in a befitting manner: he set up the announcement of the winner and then made them sit through a commercial break to find out which of them won. Ultimately, it was too much time spent on a rather insignificant award, though it was nice to see Probst acknowledged for the yeoman’s work he’s been doing on Survivor for over eight years now.
The show offered few highlights, with the most noteworthy being Ricky Gervais’s demanding that a stone-faced Steve Carell return the Emmy that he claimed last year on the absent Gervais’s behalf. David Boreanaz provided the night’s most inadvertently funny moment; he couldn’t have looked more angry about having to present with reality “star” Lauren Conrad, then barked, “It’s your line,” when Conrad failed to read from the teleprompter quickly enough.
As far as the winners go, there were few surprises. The 30 Rock love continued on the comedy side. Tina Fey and Alec Baldwin took home acting honors, while Fey also won for writing and took the stage again at the end of the night as the NBC show picked up its second award for Best Comedy. During her speeches, Fey thanked her parents for giving her “confidence that is disproportionate with my looks and abilities,” and shamelessly listed all the places one can watch 30 Rock, whether online, on a wireless device, or on good old-fashioned broadcast TV. On the drama side, AMC’s Mad Men (a show I personally find intensely overrated and borderline dull) took the trophy in the series category. Glenn Close won for her electrifying turn in FX’s Damages, as did her costar Ċ½eljko Ivanek, a veteran character actor finally getting his due. Bryan Cranston, another long-neglected actor, snuck in under-the-radar for his terrific performance in AMC’s Breaking Bad. HBO’s John Adams went away with 13 awards, including Best Miniseries (which allowed for a brief Forrest Gump reunion between producer Tom Hanks and presenter Sally Field) and acting awards for stars Paul Giamatti and Laura Linney. CBS’s The Amazing Race remains the only show to claim the prize in the Reality/Competition category, winning for the sixth straight time. And past winners Jean Smart (collecting her first trophy for ABC’s Samantha Who?), Jeremy Piven (HBO’s Entourage), and Comedy Central’s The Daily Show with Jon Stewart each came away with another golden lady.
All in all, a rather uneventful evening, generally lacking the usual “gratuitous indulgence of self-gratification” that Julia Louis-Dreyfus promised early on. Politics dominated the night; just about everyone had something to say about our current regime and the potential of the next one. Whether an awards show is the place for such talk is the topic of another debate entirely.
But enough about the Emmys. Today marks the beginning of a whole new season, one that is filled with second chances for shows that were affected by the writers’ strike. How will they fare? Who will be the next breakout star? I, for one, can’t wait to find out. And I can’t wait to write about it.
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