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.
Monday, September 29, 2008
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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