Christina Applegate stars as Samantha Newly, who comes out of an 8-day coma with no memory of her friends and family, and no idea who she is. Much to her horror, she begins to realize that the pre-coma Sam was a nasty piece of work who no one really liked. Pretty odd setup for a comedy, and despite the talents of the cast, the pilot sets up the story with a number of glaring plot holes that send the show crashing to the ground.
Sam is surrounded by a large group of family and friends. Dena (Melissa McCarthy), is the sweet, lovable one who's been visiting Sam in the hospital every day, and Andrea (Jennifer Esposito) is the cold-hearted cynic who was Sam's best friend. There's her boyfriend, Todd (Barry Watson), who is a bit unnerved by having this woman, now a stranger, move back in with him. Jean Smart and Kevin Dunn are on hand as Sam's parents.
It's a solid cast, and they do fine work here. Applegate is very funny, both as the puzzled post-coma Sam and (in flashbacks) as the nasty, sharp-tongued pre-coma version. McCarthy and Watson are both immensely likable; Esposito delivers Andrea's insults with great enthusiasm; and Smart continues to be TV's finest actresses.
But so much doesn't make sense. Why would a guy as nice as Todd have been involved with someone as hateful as pre-coma Sam? Why does Dena show up at the hospital every day, when it turns out they haven't really been friends since junior high? Why does post-coma Sam, who wants to be a better person, continue to spend time with Dena? For that matter, why does post-coma Sam want so much to be a better person? Does amnesia usually bring with it a radical personality change? Samantha Who? is so badly flawed a concept that it can't be recommended.
October 20, 2007
October 17, 2007
TV: Women's Murder Club (ABC, Friday 9/8)
So a cop, a district attorney, a medical examiner, and a reporter walk into a crime show...
They are the titular club, four women who pool their talents and assorted access to information to solve crimes. They're played by (respectively) Angie Harmon, remarkably even blander and more devoid of personality than she was on Law and Order; Laura Harris, appealing and pixie-ish despite being saddled with the TV season's most unflattering haircut; Paula Newsome, whose droll and sardonic presence is the best thing about the show; and Aubrey Dollar, who overdoes the naive routine, especially given her career.
I'm not a huge fan of crime procedurals; that particular formula has long since worn out its welcome for me. But if you do enjoy them, this is a reasonably appealing example of the genre. It's not going to stretch TV boundaries (or your imagination) in any way whatsoever, but it works tolerably well in a comfort-food kinda way.
They are the titular club, four women who pool their talents and assorted access to information to solve crimes. They're played by (respectively) Angie Harmon, remarkably even blander and more devoid of personality than she was on Law and Order; Laura Harris, appealing and pixie-ish despite being saddled with the TV season's most unflattering haircut; Paula Newsome, whose droll and sardonic presence is the best thing about the show; and Aubrey Dollar, who overdoes the naive routine, especially given her career.
I'm not a huge fan of crime procedurals; that particular formula has long since worn out its welcome for me. But if you do enjoy them, this is a reasonably appealing example of the genre. It's not going to stretch TV boundaries (or your imagination) in any way whatsoever, but it works tolerably well in a comfort-food kinda way.
October 16, 2007
TV: Life Is Wild (CW, Sunday 8/7)
Daktari for the 21st century, with a hint of The Brady Bunch thrown in for good measure.
Dad's got two kids, and none of them are coping well with the death of Mom three years ago. Teen Daughter has become an uptight, hyper-competent, prematurely adult prig; Tween Son is shy and troubled. New Mom's got two kids of her own, equally troubled. Teen Son is well on the road to a life spent in prison (like his dad); Adorable Moppet Daughter is -- well, she's adorable, and as of the pilot, that is her sole personality trait.
How to get this collection of dysfunctional folk to meld into a family? Why, take them all off to South Africa for a year, natch, to live on the family lodge where Dead Mom grew up. Of course, when they get there, they find the place a rundown mess, and Grandpa has no interest in doing any of the work to fix it up, 'cause that would take time away from his drinking.
It's all very bland and uninvolving, and remarkably unattractive to look at; the South African wilderness is a bleached and dusty bore, and even the teen actors are (by CW standards) dull and plain. I suppose if you're desperate for something that the kids can watch on Sunday night without being too badly traumatized, this will do, but that's the nicest thing I can say about it.
Dad's got two kids, and none of them are coping well with the death of Mom three years ago. Teen Daughter has become an uptight, hyper-competent, prematurely adult prig; Tween Son is shy and troubled. New Mom's got two kids of her own, equally troubled. Teen Son is well on the road to a life spent in prison (like his dad); Adorable Moppet Daughter is -- well, she's adorable, and as of the pilot, that is her sole personality trait.
How to get this collection of dysfunctional folk to meld into a family? Why, take them all off to South Africa for a year, natch, to live on the family lodge where Dead Mom grew up. Of course, when they get there, they find the place a rundown mess, and Grandpa has no interest in doing any of the work to fix it up, 'cause that would take time away from his drinking.
It's all very bland and uninvolving, and remarkably unattractive to look at; the South African wilderness is a bleached and dusty bore, and even the teen actors are (by CW standards) dull and plain. I suppose if you're desperate for something that the kids can watch on Sunday night without being too badly traumatized, this will do, but that's the nicest thing I can say about it.
October 15, 2007
Smackdown 1940: Ruth Hussey, The Philadelphia Story
Well, let's start with the blasphemy: This is a long, boring, stagey movie, populated not with characters, but with banter-dispensing machines. And sad to say, Ruth Hussey suffers the most from its flaws.
Hussey plays photographer Liz Imbrie; fifteen or twenty years later, this would have been an Eve Arden role. Liz is the wise-cracking cynic who is, way down deep, a secret romantic at heart. She's got an endless supply of one-liners, and she's the one who actually understands what everyone's really thinking.
And in most movies, that character is a lot of fun -- but only if there's only one of her. Unfortunately, everyone in this damned movie is Eve Arden. They're all hurling crisp punchlines back and forth so fast* that there's no time for any character or relationship to be developed.
(*Well, fast for the era, I suppose; we've learned to process dialogue faster in the ensuing 67 years, and what was then zippy repartee is now plodding and lethargic.)
Take, for instance, the moment at the end of the movie when Liz's fiancee (Jimmy Stewart) proposes to Katharine Hepburn with Liz standing just inches away. That should be a terribly painful moment, but we feel no sorrow or embarrassment for Liz at all; hell, she doesn't seem to feel anything. It's just another opportunity to toss off a clever quip.
Oh, the jokes are delivered sharply enough, and Hussey looks marvelous in her fabulous pantsuits, but she's never given a character to play. Like all of the other actors in this movie, she's left to drown in an endless sea of bons mots.
Hussey plays photographer Liz Imbrie; fifteen or twenty years later, this would have been an Eve Arden role. Liz is the wise-cracking cynic who is, way down deep, a secret romantic at heart. She's got an endless supply of one-liners, and she's the one who actually understands what everyone's really thinking.
And in most movies, that character is a lot of fun -- but only if there's only one of her. Unfortunately, everyone in this damned movie is Eve Arden. They're all hurling crisp punchlines back and forth so fast* that there's no time for any character or relationship to be developed.
(*Well, fast for the era, I suppose; we've learned to process dialogue faster in the ensuing 67 years, and what was then zippy repartee is now plodding and lethargic.)
Take, for instance, the moment at the end of the movie when Liz's fiancee (Jimmy Stewart) proposes to Katharine Hepburn with Liz standing just inches away. That should be a terribly painful moment, but we feel no sorrow or embarrassment for Liz at all; hell, she doesn't seem to feel anything. It's just another opportunity to toss off a clever quip.
Oh, the jokes are delivered sharply enough, and Hussey looks marvelous in her fabulous pantsuits, but she's never given a character to play. Like all of the other actors in this movie, she's left to drown in an endless sea of bons mots.
October 14, 2007
Smackdown 1940: Barbara O'Neil, All This and Heaven Too
Even before O'Neil's Duchesse du Praslin dies, she haunts this movie.
Bette Davis, as the governess Henriette, is greeted outside the door of the Praslin estate by the old servant Pierre, who makes it clear that she'd have to be nuts to work here. "I did not bring evil into this home," Henriette will say repeatedly in the movie's final act, and Pierre knows how right she is.
As is true of most evil spirits, we hear the Duchesse before we see her; she's scolding her husband the Duke (Charles Boyer) for his repeated "humiliations" of her. It's not clear what she means by that, but it is instantly clear that the Duchesse is desperate for attention and affection, even as she's incapable of giving those things to others. She is an apathetic mother, popping bonbons as the Duke interviews the new governess, but quick to take offense when the children greet their father and the new governess before acknowledging her.
But when they do come to her, she really can't be bothered. Four-year-old Reynald brings her a flower, and she dismisses him with an utterly bored "thank you" (and just look at how much she communicates in how she handles that flower, bouncing it in the air with disdain).
The Duchesse is both the villain and the comic relief of the movie -- and as much as I enjoyed this old-fashioned weepie, the comic relief was certainly needed -- and O'Neil does a marvelous job of combining the two. Her dialogue is more melodramatic than anyone else's; her every line seems to end in an exclamation point. "God will visit His revenge on this house!" "You delight in torturing me, as one day, Heaven willing, I will torture you!" Of frail little Reynald: "He will always bear the marks of my suffering!"
She's also got sharp comic timing. Listen to how crisply she switches from phony solicitude to utter loathing when she says to her husband, "Poor Mademoiselle Deluzy must have suffered.... Has she suffered?"
But as over-the-top as the Duchesse is, O'Neil always keeps her within the movie's emotional reality (there are moments, I grant you, when she only just keeps that control). And there are lovely subtleties in her facial expressions -- a smug, satisfied smile at the end of the party montage; eyes that flash with mad jealousy.
It's a performance that wouldn't work at all today, when it would seem ridiculously flamboyant against modern naturalistic acting. But when the emotional center of the movie is as big and broad as it is here, the boundaries are also pushed farther out, and O'Neil takes full advantage of those boundaries; by being just a tiny bit bigger and, in some way, sillier than everyone else, she makes the Duchesse the most memorable character in the movie. It may look like loopy overacting to modern eyes, but it's a very precise performance, and it's great fun to watch.
Bette Davis, as the governess Henriette, is greeted outside the door of the Praslin estate by the old servant Pierre, who makes it clear that she'd have to be nuts to work here. "I did not bring evil into this home," Henriette will say repeatedly in the movie's final act, and Pierre knows how right she is.
As is true of most evil spirits, we hear the Duchesse before we see her; she's scolding her husband the Duke (Charles Boyer) for his repeated "humiliations" of her. It's not clear what she means by that, but it is instantly clear that the Duchesse is desperate for attention and affection, even as she's incapable of giving those things to others. She is an apathetic mother, popping bonbons as the Duke interviews the new governess, but quick to take offense when the children greet their father and the new governess before acknowledging her.
But when they do come to her, she really can't be bothered. Four-year-old Reynald brings her a flower, and she dismisses him with an utterly bored "thank you" (and just look at how much she communicates in how she handles that flower, bouncing it in the air with disdain).
The Duchesse is both the villain and the comic relief of the movie -- and as much as I enjoyed this old-fashioned weepie, the comic relief was certainly needed -- and O'Neil does a marvelous job of combining the two. Her dialogue is more melodramatic than anyone else's; her every line seems to end in an exclamation point. "God will visit His revenge on this house!" "You delight in torturing me, as one day, Heaven willing, I will torture you!" Of frail little Reynald: "He will always bear the marks of my suffering!"
She's also got sharp comic timing. Listen to how crisply she switches from phony solicitude to utter loathing when she says to her husband, "Poor Mademoiselle Deluzy must have suffered.... Has she suffered?"
But as over-the-top as the Duchesse is, O'Neil always keeps her within the movie's emotional reality (there are moments, I grant you, when she only just keeps that control). And there are lovely subtleties in her facial expressions -- a smug, satisfied smile at the end of the party montage; eyes that flash with mad jealousy.
It's a performance that wouldn't work at all today, when it would seem ridiculously flamboyant against modern naturalistic acting. But when the emotional center of the movie is as big and broad as it is here, the boundaries are also pushed farther out, and O'Neil takes full advantage of those boundaries; by being just a tiny bit bigger and, in some way, sillier than everyone else, she makes the Duchesse the most memorable character in the movie. It may look like loopy overacting to modern eyes, but it's a very precise performance, and it's great fun to watch.
Back again, after a week of dealing with some minor medical problems. Nothing life-threatening, just a bit time-consuming and exhausting.
Among the stuff to come in the next few days: The final new TV shows premiere; I may actually finish a book, after what feels like weeks of picking things up and finding them all too dull to finish; and I'm delighted to have been invited by StinkyLulu to join in another of his monthly Supporting Actress Smackdowns. We're covering 1940 this month, so you can look forward to comments on that year's nominees:
Among the stuff to come in the next few days: The final new TV shows premiere; I may actually finish a book, after what feels like weeks of picking things up and finding them all too dull to finish; and I'm delighted to have been invited by StinkyLulu to join in another of his monthly Supporting Actress Smackdowns. We're covering 1940 this month, so you can look forward to comments on that year's nominees:
- Judith Anderson, Rebecca
- Jane Darwell, The Grapes of Wrath
- Ruth Hussey, The Philadelphia Story
- Barbara O'Neil, All This, and Heaven Too
- Marjorie Rambeau, Primrose Path
(Nope, I'd never even heard of that last one, either.)
October 08, 2007
TV: Aliens in America (CW, Monday 8:30/7:30)
In a desperate attempt to help their awkward son fit in better at school, Gary and Franny Tolchuck (Scott Patterson and Amy Pietz) open their home to a foreign exchange student. They're expecting a Nordic god, someone whose own popularity will transfer to Justin (Dan Byrd), but instead they wind up with Raja (Adhir Kalyan), a Pakistani Muslim. Wackiness ensues.
I kinda hate coming down hard on this show; its heart is in the right place, and the cast is immensely likable. Pietz, in particular, does marvelous things with her role, ringing fascinating changes on the Midwestern housewife cliche.
But the show is painfully heavy-handed, especially in its use of Justin's voice-over narration. It's intrusive and usually unnecessary. When Franny has her big change of heart, for instance, and decides that Raja can stay, we hear Justin explaining what she's thinking. But Pietz is perfectly capable of showing us what Franny's thinking (she is, in fact, doing a lovely job of doing so); the scene would play perfectly well without the narration. Every metaphor is spelled out, including that of the title ("I was like an alien myself, but there was no spaceship coming to rescue me...").
It might be worth checking in on this one in a few weeks to see if the show's approach has softened, but in a crowded timeslot, I'll be sticking with The Big Bang Theory.
I kinda hate coming down hard on this show; its heart is in the right place, and the cast is immensely likable. Pietz, in particular, does marvelous things with her role, ringing fascinating changes on the Midwestern housewife cliche.
But the show is painfully heavy-handed, especially in its use of Justin's voice-over narration. It's intrusive and usually unnecessary. When Franny has her big change of heart, for instance, and decides that Raja can stay, we hear Justin explaining what she's thinking. But Pietz is perfectly capable of showing us what Franny's thinking (she is, in fact, doing a lovely job of doing so); the scene would play perfectly well without the narration. Every metaphor is spelled out, including that of the title ("I was like an alien myself, but there was no spaceship coming to rescue me...").
It might be worth checking in on this one in a few weeks to see if the show's approach has softened, but in a crowded timeslot, I'll be sticking with The Big Bang Theory.
October 04, 2007
TV: Pushing Daisies (ABC, Wednesday 8/7)
Oh, what a delight! A brightly-colored fairy tale confection of whimsy and romance and dry wit, with a top-notch cast.
Lee Pace stars as Ned, who learns at the age of 9 that he can, with a single touch, bring the dead back to life. There are complications -- a second touch, and they're dead again, this time for good; but if he lets them stay alive for more than a minute, then someone else in close proximity will die instead -- but Ned finds it a useful gift. It's certainly handy in his primary career as owner of The Pie Hole restaurant, where rotten fruit is never a problem. It's even handier in his sideline work with private eye Emerson Cod (Chi McBride); much easier to collect reward money when you can briefly revive the deceased and ask who killed them.
When Ned's childhood sweetheart, Chuck (Anna Friel), comes back into his life as one of those to-be-revived murder victims, Ned can't bring himself to touch her back to death, setting up the show's great tragic romance -- two lovers who can literally never touch. Chuck's presence, and Ned's love for her, is greatly resented by Ned's waitress, Olive (Kristin Chenoweth), who wants Ned for herself.
The cast of characters is rounded out by Chuck's aunts, former synchronized swimming stars Lily and Vivian (Swoosie Kurtz and Ellen Greene), who don't know that Chuck has been brought back to life. And it's all set in a bright Crayola-colored world that looks like nothing else on TV.
It sounds horribly precious, and it may very well topple over into an excess of twee at any moment, but the pilot gets the balance just right. The sharp wit and rapid-fire dialogue (these people talk almost as quickly as the Gilmore girls) undercut the cuteness, as does the underlying sadness of Ned and Chuck's doomed love.
The cast is perfection. Pace and Friel are extraordinarily likable, both individually and as a couple; McBride gets to show off a comic side we haven't often seen from him, and the tough-guy cynicism he wears (seemingly more because it goes with the job than out of any real conviction) plays nicely against Ned's optimistic, generous nature.
I hope this show survives, but I'm worried. Creator Bryan Fuller has done other terrific shows with a similarly whimsical style, and they tend to die too quickly; Dead Like Me scraped out two short seasons on Showtime, and Wonderfalls lasted only a few weeks on Fox. There's also cause for concern about whether the show can maintain its distinctive visual style; director Barry Sonnenfeld was reportedly fired a few episodes in for repeatedly going over budget. But I'm keeping my fingers crossed, and I'm going to enjoy the ride for however long it lasts.
Lee Pace stars as Ned, who learns at the age of 9 that he can, with a single touch, bring the dead back to life. There are complications -- a second touch, and they're dead again, this time for good; but if he lets them stay alive for more than a minute, then someone else in close proximity will die instead -- but Ned finds it a useful gift. It's certainly handy in his primary career as owner of The Pie Hole restaurant, where rotten fruit is never a problem. It's even handier in his sideline work with private eye Emerson Cod (Chi McBride); much easier to collect reward money when you can briefly revive the deceased and ask who killed them.
When Ned's childhood sweetheart, Chuck (Anna Friel), comes back into his life as one of those to-be-revived murder victims, Ned can't bring himself to touch her back to death, setting up the show's great tragic romance -- two lovers who can literally never touch. Chuck's presence, and Ned's love for her, is greatly resented by Ned's waitress, Olive (Kristin Chenoweth), who wants Ned for herself.
The cast of characters is rounded out by Chuck's aunts, former synchronized swimming stars Lily and Vivian (Swoosie Kurtz and Ellen Greene), who don't know that Chuck has been brought back to life. And it's all set in a bright Crayola-colored world that looks like nothing else on TV.
It sounds horribly precious, and it may very well topple over into an excess of twee at any moment, but the pilot gets the balance just right. The sharp wit and rapid-fire dialogue (these people talk almost as quickly as the Gilmore girls) undercut the cuteness, as does the underlying sadness of Ned and Chuck's doomed love.
The cast is perfection. Pace and Friel are extraordinarily likable, both individually and as a couple; McBride gets to show off a comic side we haven't often seen from him, and the tough-guy cynicism he wears (seemingly more because it goes with the job than out of any real conviction) plays nicely against Ned's optimistic, generous nature.
I hope this show survives, but I'm worried. Creator Bryan Fuller has done other terrific shows with a similarly whimsical style, and they tend to die too quickly; Dead Like Me scraped out two short seasons on Showtime, and Wonderfalls lasted only a few weeks on Fox. There's also cause for concern about whether the show can maintain its distinctive visual style; director Barry Sonnenfeld was reportedly fired a few episodes in for repeatedly going over budget. But I'm keeping my fingers crossed, and I'm going to enjoy the ride for however long it lasts.
October 03, 2007
TV: Cavemen / Carpoolers (ABC, Tuesday 8/7, 8:30/7:30)
Another pair to be dismissed in tandem.
There's been a lot of talk in the last few years about whether or not the sitcom is dead. I happen to think it's not, and that there are a lot of fine sitcoms out there -- 30 Rock, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, My Name Is Earl, just to name three.
But if you wanted to kill the sitcom, shows like these would do the trick just fine.
Cavemen is the single unfunniest half-hour I've ever endured. I didn't laugh, chuckle, or even smile once. The caveman makeup is incredibly unattractive, and it's impossible to distinguish the three principal characters from one another (one of them sometimes wears glasses, but that's the only distinguishing characteristing I could find). The scary thing is that the show we saw last night was overhauled after TV critics responded poorly to the original pilot a few months back; that means that somewhere, there exists a version of Cavemen that is even worse than this.
Carpoolers is marginally better -- this is not, I hasten to add, to say that it's actually good -- if only because you can see the germ of a funny idea buried deep within it. You could make an interesting show about four guys who don't really know one another well or have much in common, but who have to spend 90 minutes a day in close quarters and find themselves sharing their lives in a more intimate fashion than they are accustomed to. (Heck, HBO could probably find a way to do the entire thing in real-time, set entirely within the car, one commute per episode.)
But this show isn't that. This is stale sitcom material; the first episode actually centers on a guy's fear that his wife might make more money than he does, a plot which last seemed fresh and relevant somewhere around 1974. And what is with the character names? In what particular suburban hellhole would you find four men named Dougie, Aubrey, Laird, and Gracen (not to mention Gracen's son, Marmaduke)?
ABC is having particularly bad luck with the traditional half-hour sitcom these days; their last such Emmy nominee, for instance, was Home Improvement in 1994. Shows like this aren't going to improve that record.
There's been a lot of talk in the last few years about whether or not the sitcom is dead. I happen to think it's not, and that there are a lot of fine sitcoms out there -- 30 Rock, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, My Name Is Earl, just to name three.
But if you wanted to kill the sitcom, shows like these would do the trick just fine.
Cavemen is the single unfunniest half-hour I've ever endured. I didn't laugh, chuckle, or even smile once. The caveman makeup is incredibly unattractive, and it's impossible to distinguish the three principal characters from one another (one of them sometimes wears glasses, but that's the only distinguishing characteristing I could find). The scary thing is that the show we saw last night was overhauled after TV critics responded poorly to the original pilot a few months back; that means that somewhere, there exists a version of Cavemen that is even worse than this.
Carpoolers is marginally better -- this is not, I hasten to add, to say that it's actually good -- if only because you can see the germ of a funny idea buried deep within it. You could make an interesting show about four guys who don't really know one another well or have much in common, but who have to spend 90 minutes a day in close quarters and find themselves sharing their lives in a more intimate fashion than they are accustomed to. (Heck, HBO could probably find a way to do the entire thing in real-time, set entirely within the car, one commute per episode.)
But this show isn't that. This is stale sitcom material; the first episode actually centers on a guy's fear that his wife might make more money than he does, a plot which last seemed fresh and relevant somewhere around 1974. And what is with the character names? In what particular suburban hellhole would you find four men named Dougie, Aubrey, Laird, and Gracen (not to mention Gracen's son, Marmaduke)?
ABC is having particularly bad luck with the traditional half-hour sitcom these days; their last such Emmy nominee, for instance, was Home Improvement in 1994. Shows like this aren't going to improve that record.
September 30, 2007
TV: Moonlight (CBS, Friday 9/8)
"What's it like being a vampire?" "It sucks."
Yup, that's actually how Moonlight begins, and it never rises above that level of obviousness and laziness.
Mick St. John (Alex O'Laughlin) is a 90-year-old vampire, working as a private eye in Los Angeles. He's got a pretty blonde Internet-tabloid reporter sidekick (Sophia Myles, decorative but not much else); a 400-year-old vampire best pal (Jason Dohring); and a vicious killer vampire ex-wife (Shannyn Sossamon, whose presence in the cast of regulars tells us that she's not nearly as dead as we're supposed to think she is at the end of the pilot).
Los Angeles at night can be beautiful, but here it's murky and ugly; it's often hard to tell what's happening. The writing is tired, the acting isn't much better, and the only thing the show really has to offer are the physical charms of its actors (in the case of O'Laughlin, those charms are ample, indeed). An utter waste of an hour.
Yup, that's actually how Moonlight begins, and it never rises above that level of obviousness and laziness.
Mick St. John (Alex O'Laughlin) is a 90-year-old vampire, working as a private eye in Los Angeles. He's got a pretty blonde Internet-tabloid reporter sidekick (Sophia Myles, decorative but not much else); a 400-year-old vampire best pal (Jason Dohring); and a vicious killer vampire ex-wife (Shannyn Sossamon, whose presence in the cast of regulars tells us that she's not nearly as dead as we're supposed to think she is at the end of the pilot).
Los Angeles at night can be beautiful, but here it's murky and ugly; it's often hard to tell what's happening. The writing is tired, the acting isn't much better, and the only thing the show really has to offer are the physical charms of its actors (in the case of O'Laughlin, those charms are ample, indeed). An utter waste of an hour.
TV: Dirty Sexy Money (ABC, Wednesday 10/9)
Now this is how you do filthy rich dysfunctional-family soap opera.
Nick George (Peter Krause) grew up around the Darling clan, one of New York's most influential families; his father was their family lawyer. That meant that Daddy wasn't home much, and Nick has vowed never to let his family feel as neglected as he felt when he was a child.
But when Daddy dies in a mysterious plane crash, and patriarch Tripp Darling (Donald Sutherland, at his malevolence-oozing best) offers Nick great big gobs of money to work for The Family -- you can hear the capital letters every time the words are uttered -- Nick can't bring himself to turn it down. "The money will be good for my wife and daughter," he tells himself; "I have to do this job on my terms," he tells Tripp, "and I won't lie for The Family." "We would never ask you to," says Tripp.
And what a messed-up batch the Darlings are. Letitia (Jill Clayburgh) drinks too much, and doesn't have the faintest idea what any of her kids are up to. Oldest son Patrick (William Baldwin) is the state Attorney General and wants to be Senator, but that's not likely to happen if the media finds about his transgendered mistress.
(Weirdly enough, this is two ABC pilots in one week that have transgendered mistress subplots; something in the water at the network cafeteria, maybe?)
Karen Darling (Natalie Zea), the closest of the Darling kids to Nick in age, has always had a thing for him, and now that he's an employee, she figures that this is her chance to finally land him; never mind that he's married, or that she's about to marry her fourth husband. Father Brian (Glenn Fitzgerald) is trying to get his illegitimate son into an exclusive private school. And the twins, Juliet and Jeremy (Samaire Armstrong and Seth Gabel) are party kids, drinking and drugging their way through life. Juliet, at least, has a bit of ambition and wants to be an actress; sadly, she doesn't have an ounce of talent.
Krause is the perfect voice of sanity, trying frantically to cope as the Darlings zip through life, oblivious to the drama they're creating for each other and for everyone around them. Sutherland plays WASP privilege as well as anyone these days, and it's great fun to see him given a chance to be funny again. The rest of the cast is well-chosen; I particularly enjoyed Fitzgerald, viciously funny and flamboyantly profane, and Armstrong, who is already bringing unexpected depth to her Paris Hilton-type character.
I could have done without the imposition of a mystery arc -- are the Darlings responsible for the plane crash that killed Daddy George? -- but with any luck, that will be wrapped up quickly, and we can get on with the day-to-day lives of the Darling family; there's more than enough entertainment there to keep this show around for a long time.
Nick George (Peter Krause) grew up around the Darling clan, one of New York's most influential families; his father was their family lawyer. That meant that Daddy wasn't home much, and Nick has vowed never to let his family feel as neglected as he felt when he was a child.
But when Daddy dies in a mysterious plane crash, and patriarch Tripp Darling (Donald Sutherland, at his malevolence-oozing best) offers Nick great big gobs of money to work for The Family -- you can hear the capital letters every time the words are uttered -- Nick can't bring himself to turn it down. "The money will be good for my wife and daughter," he tells himself; "I have to do this job on my terms," he tells Tripp, "and I won't lie for The Family." "We would never ask you to," says Tripp.
And what a messed-up batch the Darlings are. Letitia (Jill Clayburgh) drinks too much, and doesn't have the faintest idea what any of her kids are up to. Oldest son Patrick (William Baldwin) is the state Attorney General and wants to be Senator, but that's not likely to happen if the media finds about his transgendered mistress.
(Weirdly enough, this is two ABC pilots in one week that have transgendered mistress subplots; something in the water at the network cafeteria, maybe?)
Karen Darling (Natalie Zea), the closest of the Darling kids to Nick in age, has always had a thing for him, and now that he's an employee, she figures that this is her chance to finally land him; never mind that he's married, or that she's about to marry her fourth husband. Father Brian (Glenn Fitzgerald) is trying to get his illegitimate son into an exclusive private school. And the twins, Juliet and Jeremy (Samaire Armstrong and Seth Gabel) are party kids, drinking and drugging their way through life. Juliet, at least, has a bit of ambition and wants to be an actress; sadly, she doesn't have an ounce of talent.
Krause is the perfect voice of sanity, trying frantically to cope as the Darlings zip through life, oblivious to the drama they're creating for each other and for everyone around them. Sutherland plays WASP privilege as well as anyone these days, and it's great fun to see him given a chance to be funny again. The rest of the cast is well-chosen; I particularly enjoyed Fitzgerald, viciously funny and flamboyantly profane, and Armstrong, who is already bringing unexpected depth to her Paris Hilton-type character.
I could have done without the imposition of a mystery arc -- are the Darlings responsible for the plane crash that killed Daddy George? -- but with any luck, that will be wrapped up quickly, and we can get on with the day-to-day lives of the Darling family; there's more than enough entertainment there to keep this show around for a long time.
September 29, 2007
TV: Big Shots (ABC, Thursday 10/9)
Four young captains of industry face the challenges of life and love.
James has just discovered that his wife and his boss were having an affair. Brody's wife is a shrew who insists that he buy Napoleons from her favorite Paris pastry shop for her birthday party. Duncan has the hots for his ex-wife, and an investigative journalist is snooping into that unfortunate incident with a cross-dressing truck-stop hooker. Karl has a super hot mistress, but lately she's getting awfully clingy; she even wants Karl to go with her for couples therapy.
The four of them are played by (in order) Michael Vartan, Christopher Titus, Dylan McDermott, and Joshua Malina, who are uniformly charming and attractive (though I admit, if I'd had my pick as to which one would get all the shirtless bedroom scenes in the pilot, I wouldn't have gone with Molina). They get the tone of the show right, a mix of light drama and comedy very reminiscent of Desperate Housewives, and the writing is relatively sharp.
The actresses in the supporting roles are just as good. Jessica Collins is very funny as the needy mistress, Marla; Peyton List finds precisely the right blend of contempt and insecurity as Duncan's teenaged daughter; and Nia Long, as James's co-worker (and inevitable romantic interest as his marital problems increase, I suspect), manages the tricky combination of being utterly professional and fabulously sexy at the same time.
But as well made as Big Shots is, it's just a little bit difficult to root for the show or its characters. "Gee, it's tough to be a handsome, rich, straight white guy" is not a message for which I have oodles of sympathy. Something as simple as making one of the four leads non-white would have made a huge difference. I may give it another week or two to see if the queasy factor diminishes at all.
James has just discovered that his wife and his boss were having an affair. Brody's wife is a shrew who insists that he buy Napoleons from her favorite Paris pastry shop for her birthday party. Duncan has the hots for his ex-wife, and an investigative journalist is snooping into that unfortunate incident with a cross-dressing truck-stop hooker. Karl has a super hot mistress, but lately she's getting awfully clingy; she even wants Karl to go with her for couples therapy.
The four of them are played by (in order) Michael Vartan, Christopher Titus, Dylan McDermott, and Joshua Malina, who are uniformly charming and attractive (though I admit, if I'd had my pick as to which one would get all the shirtless bedroom scenes in the pilot, I wouldn't have gone with Molina). They get the tone of the show right, a mix of light drama and comedy very reminiscent of Desperate Housewives, and the writing is relatively sharp.
The actresses in the supporting roles are just as good. Jessica Collins is very funny as the needy mistress, Marla; Peyton List finds precisely the right blend of contempt and insecurity as Duncan's teenaged daughter; and Nia Long, as James's co-worker (and inevitable romantic interest as his marital problems increase, I suspect), manages the tricky combination of being utterly professional and fabulously sexy at the same time.
But as well made as Big Shots is, it's just a little bit difficult to root for the show or its characters. "Gee, it's tough to be a handsome, rich, straight white guy" is not a message for which I have oodles of sympathy. Something as simple as making one of the four leads non-white would have made a huge difference. I may give it another week or two to see if the queasy factor diminishes at all.
TV: Private Practice (ABC, Wednesday 9/8)
Dr. Addison Forbes Montgomery (Kate Walsh) moves from Seattle to Los Angeles in this spinoff from Grey's Anatomy. She's now working for the Oceanside Wellness Group, a private clinic with relatively few wealthy clients, quite a change from the frenzy of Seattle Grace Hospital.
The show's got a fine collection of talented actors surrounding Walsh. Taye Diggs and Audra McDonald are the internist and the fertility specialist (recently divorced, and still working through their personal issues); Tim Daly is the alternative medicine specialist, and Addison's most likely eventual romantic interest; Amy Brenneman is the psychiatrist, and like all TV shrinks, she's the most neurotic of the bunch. There's a womanizing pediatrician (Paul Adelstein), a receptionist training to become a midwife (Chris Lowell), and outside Oceanside Wellness, the ice-queen chief of medicine at the local hospital (KaDee Strickland).
Private Practice can't make up its mind whether it wants to be comedy or drama. That's not too distracting when the tone is consistent within a particular story -- the drama of a woman threatened by complications of labor; the comedy of a mistress and a wife fighting over the sperm of the man they love. But when the show tries to shift tone mid-plotline, it's less successful. When Brenneman is summoned to a department store to find one of her patients (a very nice guest performance by Moon Zappa, of all people) on the floor, frantically counting tiles, the story is initially played for laughs. Turns out, though, that she's actually grieving a dead son (and how does her shrink not know about the dead child already, anyway?), and the show can't pull off the turnaround from broad comedy to tearjerker.
The other notable problem with the show is that the ostensible lead, Kate Walsh, is the least interesting actor of the bunch. It's possible that the writers are assuming that we already know her well enough from Grey's Anatomy that they can focus on introducing and developing the new characters, but I'm afraid that she may simply be outclassed by her veteran co-stars.
The show as a whole is pleasant enough entertainment. It's not something I'm likely to ever watch again, but it's made with skill and craft, and will surely please its intended audience.
The show's got a fine collection of talented actors surrounding Walsh. Taye Diggs and Audra McDonald are the internist and the fertility specialist (recently divorced, and still working through their personal issues); Tim Daly is the alternative medicine specialist, and Addison's most likely eventual romantic interest; Amy Brenneman is the psychiatrist, and like all TV shrinks, she's the most neurotic of the bunch. There's a womanizing pediatrician (Paul Adelstein), a receptionist training to become a midwife (Chris Lowell), and outside Oceanside Wellness, the ice-queen chief of medicine at the local hospital (KaDee Strickland).
Private Practice can't make up its mind whether it wants to be comedy or drama. That's not too distracting when the tone is consistent within a particular story -- the drama of a woman threatened by complications of labor; the comedy of a mistress and a wife fighting over the sperm of the man they love. But when the show tries to shift tone mid-plotline, it's less successful. When Brenneman is summoned to a department store to find one of her patients (a very nice guest performance by Moon Zappa, of all people) on the floor, frantically counting tiles, the story is initially played for laughs. Turns out, though, that she's actually grieving a dead son (and how does her shrink not know about the dead child already, anyway?), and the show can't pull off the turnaround from broad comedy to tearjerker.
The other notable problem with the show is that the ostensible lead, Kate Walsh, is the least interesting actor of the bunch. It's possible that the writers are assuming that we already know her well enough from Grey's Anatomy that they can focus on introducing and developing the new characters, but I'm afraid that she may simply be outclassed by her veteran co-stars.
The show as a whole is pleasant enough entertainment. It's not something I'm likely to ever watch again, but it's made with skill and craft, and will surely please its intended audience.
September 26, 2007
TV: Reaper (CW, Tuesday 9/8)
For a few weeks after the networks announced their fall schedules, Chuck and Reaper were scheduled for the same timeslot. It would have been an interesting battle, because they are almost exactly the same show: An aimless college dropout works unenthusiastically at a big-box retailer (instantly recognizable, though renamed for legal reasons) when a series of bizarre circumstances force him to go on a series of dangerous missions for an organization of immense power; through surviving these missions, he finds a sense of purpose and grows up. In Chuck, our hero's employers are Not Best Buy and the CIA; in Reaper, it's Not Home Depot and Satan.
Why does Sam (Bret Harrison) have to go to work for the Devil (Ray Wise) on his 21st birthday? Well, it turns out that his folks sold his soul to the Devil before Sam was even born. (This is the part of the show, just as it is on Chuck, where you have to take a deep breath, swallow hard, and just go along with it.) Now Sam is forced to work as a bounty hunter, returning escaped souls to Hell. He's got the assistance of sidekicks Sock (Tyler Labine) and Ben (Rick Gonzalez); it seems inevitable that Sam's not-quite-girlfriend Andi (Missy Peregrym) will eventually be let in on things, completing the show's Scooby Gang.
Kevin Smith directed the pilot, and it's as good an hour of television as I've seen in years, getting the tone absolutely right, and moving smoothly from smirky slacker comedy to exciting battle sequences. Harrison is a charming lead, Labine and Gonzalez are both very funny (though Labine could cut back on the Jack Black mannerisms a bit), and Peregrym is sweet and lovely, pretty enough that we understand why Sam is a little bit intimidated by her, but not so inhumanly beautiful that she seems completely out of his league.
But if the Devil is a character in your show, then that's your most important bit of casting, and in Ray Wise, Reaper absolutely nails it. Wise is fabulous here, turning on a dime from wicked charm to genuine menace. He's the best thing about the show -- the best thing about the new TV season, so far -- and the reason why Reaper gets the nod over Chuck if you don't have the time or the inclination to watch both.
Why does Sam (Bret Harrison) have to go to work for the Devil (Ray Wise) on his 21st birthday? Well, it turns out that his folks sold his soul to the Devil before Sam was even born. (This is the part of the show, just as it is on Chuck, where you have to take a deep breath, swallow hard, and just go along with it.) Now Sam is forced to work as a bounty hunter, returning escaped souls to Hell. He's got the assistance of sidekicks Sock (Tyler Labine) and Ben (Rick Gonzalez); it seems inevitable that Sam's not-quite-girlfriend Andi (Missy Peregrym) will eventually be let in on things, completing the show's Scooby Gang.
Kevin Smith directed the pilot, and it's as good an hour of television as I've seen in years, getting the tone absolutely right, and moving smoothly from smirky slacker comedy to exciting battle sequences. Harrison is a charming lead, Labine and Gonzalez are both very funny (though Labine could cut back on the Jack Black mannerisms a bit), and Peregrym is sweet and lovely, pretty enough that we understand why Sam is a little bit intimidated by her, but not so inhumanly beautiful that she seems completely out of his league.
But if the Devil is a character in your show, then that's your most important bit of casting, and in Ray Wise, Reaper absolutely nails it. Wise is fabulous here, turning on a dime from wicked charm to genuine menace. He's the best thing about the show -- the best thing about the new TV season, so far -- and the reason why Reaper gets the nod over Chuck if you don't have the time or the inclination to watch both.
TV: Cane (CBS, Tuesday 10/9)
Another of this year's throwbacks, this one a multigenerational family/business soap in the mold of Dallas.
Instead of oil, it's sugar and rum, and instead of the Ewings, it's the Duque family, headed by patriarch Pancho (Hector Elizondo). Pancho and Amalia (Rita Moreno) have three children, but Pancho's heart belongs to foster son Alex Vega (Jimmy Smits); when Pancho gives control of the family business to Alex, oldest son Frank (Nestor Carbonell) is furious. Younger son Henry (Eddie Matos) isn't all that interested in the rum business to begin with; he's a club promoter with dreams of founding Duque Music. As for daughter Isabel (Paola Turbay), well, she's married to Alex, and together, they control the largest block of shares.
There is, of course, a rival family -- the Samuels clan. Joe Samuels (Ken Howard, making a stronger impression in his few moments on screen than anyone else in the cast) has also recently handed control of his business to his children, and Ellis Samuels (British actress Polly Walker, doing an ill-advised attempt at a Southern drawl) thinks she's found the way to defeat the Duques: She's having an affair with Frank.
Cane has a strikingly attractive cast; in particular,Turbay is a real beauty, and if she can act -- the pilot doesn't give her much opportunity to prove herself -- she should become a huge star. And it is certainly a good thing to see another show that provides opportunities for Hollywood's Hispanic actors; I'm especially happy to see Moreno again, and hope that she'll be given more to do than host family parties and mutter "Ay, Dios mio!" under her breath.
The problem, though, is that the show takes itself far too seriously. The most successful shows of this type -- Dallas, Dynasty, Falcon Crest -- have had at least a hint of humor and self-mockery; there's none of that in Cane, particularly from Jimmy Smits, who plays Alex with such ponderous gravitas and self-importance that he weighs down the entire enterprise.
Because of that, when Alex commits a particularly horrible act late in the pilot episode, it's impossible for him to keep our sympathy; J.R. Ewing could get away with the most outlandish villainy, because there was always a sly wink to the audience to remind us that it was all in the name of fun and entertainment. There's no wink here, just a stern glare from a show that refuses to have any fun at all.
Instead of oil, it's sugar and rum, and instead of the Ewings, it's the Duque family, headed by patriarch Pancho (Hector Elizondo). Pancho and Amalia (Rita Moreno) have three children, but Pancho's heart belongs to foster son Alex Vega (Jimmy Smits); when Pancho gives control of the family business to Alex, oldest son Frank (Nestor Carbonell) is furious. Younger son Henry (Eddie Matos) isn't all that interested in the rum business to begin with; he's a club promoter with dreams of founding Duque Music. As for daughter Isabel (Paola Turbay), well, she's married to Alex, and together, they control the largest block of shares.
There is, of course, a rival family -- the Samuels clan. Joe Samuels (Ken Howard, making a stronger impression in his few moments on screen than anyone else in the cast) has also recently handed control of his business to his children, and Ellis Samuels (British actress Polly Walker, doing an ill-advised attempt at a Southern drawl) thinks she's found the way to defeat the Duques: She's having an affair with Frank.
Cane has a strikingly attractive cast; in particular,Turbay is a real beauty, and if she can act -- the pilot doesn't give her much opportunity to prove herself -- she should become a huge star. And it is certainly a good thing to see another show that provides opportunities for Hollywood's Hispanic actors; I'm especially happy to see Moreno again, and hope that she'll be given more to do than host family parties and mutter "Ay, Dios mio!" under her breath.
The problem, though, is that the show takes itself far too seriously. The most successful shows of this type -- Dallas, Dynasty, Falcon Crest -- have had at least a hint of humor and self-mockery; there's none of that in Cane, particularly from Jimmy Smits, who plays Alex with such ponderous gravitas and self-importance that he weighs down the entire enterprise.
Because of that, when Alex commits a particularly horrible act late in the pilot episode, it's impossible for him to keep our sympathy; J.R. Ewing could get away with the most outlandish villainy, because there was always a sly wink to the audience to remind us that it was all in the name of fun and entertainment. There's no wink here, just a stern glare from a show that refuses to have any fun at all.
TV: Bionic Woman (NBC, Wednesday 9/8)
From the folks who brought you the reimagined Battlestar Galactica, here's another attempt to update cheesy TV sci-fi of the past. This one's not quite so successful.
Our heroine is Jaime Sommers (Michelle Ryan), who is nearly killed in an auto accident (depicted in a manner that's fairly graphic and violent for network TV). Fortunately, Jaime's boyfriend Will (Chris Bowers) just happens to be the head surgeon for the Berkut Group, who've been experimenting with using super-powered prosthetics to create high-tech soldiers, and he whisks her off to the Berkut lab to install an arm, an eye, an ear, and two legs.
Jaime is not happy to have been the subject of such experimentation -- never mind that it was either that or death -- and is reluctant to cooperate with the Berkut Group. So she's on the run from them, and is also being pursued (for reasons unknown) by Sarah Corvus, the first bionic woman, who was believed to be dead after her implants drove her psycho a few years back. (Galactica's Katee Sackhoff demonstrates her limited range as an actress, playing Sarah as Starbuck without the cigars.)
I wasn't impressed by the pilot episode. Ryan is pretty to look at, but has the personality of oatmeal. The show's characters are neatly divided into good and evil, and it's not hard to figure out who Jaime's allies and enemies will be. (The ex-military guy who runs the Berkut Group? Bad guy, obviously; he's played by Miguel Ferrer, for pete's sake, and casting doesn't get any lazier than that. The pretty blonde Berkut shrink named, god help us, Ruth Truewell? Good guy.)
There were lots of little things that annoyed me. The show uses Sia's "Breathe Me" as the musical backdrop for one sequence; why on earth would you choose a piece of music that's so closely associated with the Six Feet Under finale, one of the most iconic TV sequences of the last five years? And it's a big mistake to show us Jamie's high-speed running in real time; there's not yet been a special effect invented that does that without looking silly. Who would have guessed that the "wah-wah-wah" slow-motion of the original was the least cheesy way to do that?
The track record of the creators is strong enough that I'm not quite ready to abandon this one yet, but at this point, I'm not optimistic.
Our heroine is Jaime Sommers (Michelle Ryan), who is nearly killed in an auto accident (depicted in a manner that's fairly graphic and violent for network TV). Fortunately, Jaime's boyfriend Will (Chris Bowers) just happens to be the head surgeon for the Berkut Group, who've been experimenting with using super-powered prosthetics to create high-tech soldiers, and he whisks her off to the Berkut lab to install an arm, an eye, an ear, and two legs.
Jaime is not happy to have been the subject of such experimentation -- never mind that it was either that or death -- and is reluctant to cooperate with the Berkut Group. So she's on the run from them, and is also being pursued (for reasons unknown) by Sarah Corvus, the first bionic woman, who was believed to be dead after her implants drove her psycho a few years back. (Galactica's Katee Sackhoff demonstrates her limited range as an actress, playing Sarah as Starbuck without the cigars.)
I wasn't impressed by the pilot episode. Ryan is pretty to look at, but has the personality of oatmeal. The show's characters are neatly divided into good and evil, and it's not hard to figure out who Jaime's allies and enemies will be. (The ex-military guy who runs the Berkut Group? Bad guy, obviously; he's played by Miguel Ferrer, for pete's sake, and casting doesn't get any lazier than that. The pretty blonde Berkut shrink named, god help us, Ruth Truewell? Good guy.)
There were lots of little things that annoyed me. The show uses Sia's "Breathe Me" as the musical backdrop for one sequence; why on earth would you choose a piece of music that's so closely associated with the Six Feet Under finale, one of the most iconic TV sequences of the last five years? And it's a big mistake to show us Jamie's high-speed running in real time; there's not yet been a special effect invented that does that without looking silly. Who would have guessed that the "wah-wah-wah" slow-motion of the original was the least cheesy way to do that?
The track record of the creators is strong enough that I'm not quite ready to abandon this one yet, but at this point, I'm not optimistic.
September 25, 2007
TV: Life (NBC, Wednesday 10/9)
Charlie Crews (Damian Lewis) spent twelve years in a maximum-security Federal prison before being exonerated of the murders for which he'd been found guilty. As part of the settlement of his case, he's not only been given an enormous amount of money, but he's also gotten his job back -- as a detective for the Los Angeles Police Department.
He's been teamed with Dani Reese (Sarah Shahi), who understands that getting Crews as a partner is a form of punishment; she's been the low woman on the LAPD totem pole since returning from drug rehab almost two years ago. That she managed to keep her job at all was only due to the intervention of her mentor and commanding officer, Lt. Karen Davis (Robin Weigert), who still isn't entirely sure she can rely on Reese to get the job done.
Crews has it even worse, though; nobody trusts him, and they certainly can't understand why he'd want to come back to the force when he has all that money. Davis is particularly determined to bring him down, and she makes it clear that Reese is to keep her eyes open for Crews's slightest infraction of LAPD policy.
On hand for comic relief is Ted Earley (Adam Arkin), Charlie's best friend and financial manager, who is himself an ex-con (insider trading) and now lives above the garage at Charlie's vast estate.
Not a bad setup, and the pilot episode does an efficient job of laying in all of this backstory while still telling a reasonably interesting crime-of-the-week story involving the murder of a young boy. There are a few too many jokes about how much the world has changed while Charlie was in prison -- he doesn't know what an IM is, or that telephones now have cameras built in -- but those will no doubt be emphasized as the series continues.
The supporting actors all do fine work here, but this is Damian Lewis's show, and he's superb. Lewis plays every scene with intense concentration on whatever he's doing -- Charlie discovered Zen in prison, and is always focused on being "in the moment" -- and a strange mix of calm affect and jittery tics; his head is often tilted to one side, like a bird. He's like a younger, less dissolute version of James Spader, with a similar offbeat rhythm to his line readings.
It's a crowded time slot (Wednesday, for whatever reason, is crammed full of high-profile new shows this year); Life is up against CSI: New York and Dirty Sexy Money (which I'm very much looking forward to seeing). I suspect that we'll wind up with a close race in the timeslot -- none of the shows breaking out as a monster hit, but all doing well enough to survive. I'm certainly interested to see where Life goes; Damian Lewis's performance is enough to elevate it above most of the cop shows on TV.
He's been teamed with Dani Reese (Sarah Shahi), who understands that getting Crews as a partner is a form of punishment; she's been the low woman on the LAPD totem pole since returning from drug rehab almost two years ago. That she managed to keep her job at all was only due to the intervention of her mentor and commanding officer, Lt. Karen Davis (Robin Weigert), who still isn't entirely sure she can rely on Reese to get the job done.
Crews has it even worse, though; nobody trusts him, and they certainly can't understand why he'd want to come back to the force when he has all that money. Davis is particularly determined to bring him down, and she makes it clear that Reese is to keep her eyes open for Crews's slightest infraction of LAPD policy.
On hand for comic relief is Ted Earley (Adam Arkin), Charlie's best friend and financial manager, who is himself an ex-con (insider trading) and now lives above the garage at Charlie's vast estate.
Not a bad setup, and the pilot episode does an efficient job of laying in all of this backstory while still telling a reasonably interesting crime-of-the-week story involving the murder of a young boy. There are a few too many jokes about how much the world has changed while Charlie was in prison -- he doesn't know what an IM is, or that telephones now have cameras built in -- but those will no doubt be emphasized as the series continues.
The supporting actors all do fine work here, but this is Damian Lewis's show, and he's superb. Lewis plays every scene with intense concentration on whatever he's doing -- Charlie discovered Zen in prison, and is always focused on being "in the moment" -- and a strange mix of calm affect and jittery tics; his head is often tilted to one side, like a bird. He's like a younger, less dissolute version of James Spader, with a similar offbeat rhythm to his line readings.
It's a crowded time slot (Wednesday, for whatever reason, is crammed full of high-profile new shows this year); Life is up against CSI: New York and Dirty Sexy Money (which I'm very much looking forward to seeing). I suspect that we'll wind up with a close race in the timeslot -- none of the shows breaking out as a monster hit, but all doing well enough to survive. I'm certainly interested to see where Life goes; Damian Lewis's performance is enough to elevate it above most of the cop shows on TV.
September 24, 2007
TV: CW Now; Online Nation (CW, Sunday 7/6; 7:30/6:30)
Let's deal with these in a single post, shall we? This is the laziest, cheapest, most cynical, most depressing hour of programming I've ever seen.
CW Now is a 30-minute festival of product placement in the guise of trend reporting. The show is so heavy on product placement that it only had one block of traditional commercials, at the very end of the show. The principal sponsors for the first episode were the Halo 3 video game -- it comes out Tuesday! Everyone's talking about it! Celebrities and everything! -- and Wal-Mart, which we were told was the best place to buy said game. There were also features on expensive spas, expensive clothes, expensive technology, and expensive vacations. Periodically, a caption would come on screen below one of the hosts: "Doesn't J. Boogie look great in that outfit? To find out where you can buy it, go to cwtv.com!"
Online Nation is 30 minutes of Internet videos, all of them chopped up into no more than 30- or 40-second bits, and all of them long since past their freshness date. C'mon, I mean, Mentos fountains? Really? That's the hottest thing you could come up with?
Each show has four incredibly annoying hosts, two boys and two girls, all of whom are Hip! Stylish! and Trendy! Four hosts each seems like overkill, but I suppose when hosts are the only actual expense you have, you can afford four of them.
CW Now is a 30-minute festival of product placement in the guise of trend reporting. The show is so heavy on product placement that it only had one block of traditional commercials, at the very end of the show. The principal sponsors for the first episode were the Halo 3 video game -- it comes out Tuesday! Everyone's talking about it! Celebrities and everything! -- and Wal-Mart, which we were told was the best place to buy said game. There were also features on expensive spas, expensive clothes, expensive technology, and expensive vacations. Periodically, a caption would come on screen below one of the hosts: "Doesn't J. Boogie look great in that outfit? To find out where you can buy it, go to cwtv.com!"
Online Nation is 30 minutes of Internet videos, all of them chopped up into no more than 30- or 40-second bits, and all of them long since past their freshness date. C'mon, I mean, Mentos fountains? Really? That's the hottest thing you could come up with?
Each show has four incredibly annoying hosts, two boys and two girls, all of whom are Hip! Stylish! and Trendy! Four hosts each seems like overkill, but I suppose when hosts are the only actual expense you have, you can afford four of them.
September 23, 2007
TV: Journeyman (NBC, Monday 10/9)
A San Francisco newspaper reporter begins leaping through time in a series that borrows equally from Quantum Leap, Early Edition, and Day Break.
Dan Vasser (Kevin McKidd) finds himself having episodes of relocation in time, jumping (in the pilot) as far back as 1987. At first, he thinks they're just vivid dreams, but eventually he realizes that something really is happening to him. Each week, it seems, will find him leaping about within the life of some specific person who he's meant to help; it won't always be clear whom he's meant to save, or how.
His unexplained absences from the present are beginning to cause stress in his marriage -- there is the strong implication that Dan has not always been the best husband, though it's never quite spelled out what exactly he did -- and he struggles desperately to convince his wife, Katie (Gretchen Egolf), that he's not drinking or on drugs. Brother Jack (Reed Diamond), a cop, is equally skeptical.
Dan's trips to the past are complicated by the fact that he keeps stumbling into people from his own past, notably his one-time fiancee, Livia (Moon Bloodgood, who seems to have a thing for this sort of time-travel fantasy, having played a similar role in Day Break); running into her often means running into Katie and Jack, who were dating when Dan and Livia were engaged.
As is often the case with time-travel shows, there are a few unfortunate anachronisms; we see the F-line of streetcars in a scene set several years before they were actually introduced, and a character refers to "Y2K" in late 1997, long before the phrase entered popular usage. I do like, though, that the show doesn't shy away from the potential complications of Dan's jumping into a period when he was already present. There's a cleverly handled moment in the pilot when Dan realizes that at least one person understands what's happening to him, and that explanation seems likely to be the ongoing mystery of the show.
McKidd is a nice change from the leading men we usually get these days, with more rugged, craggy features; he gives Dan a bluntness that's refreshing. Egolf is terrific, funny and romantic as she and Dan celebrate their anniversary, convincingly nervous and unsure as she wonders what's happening to her marriage.
Journeyman is a pleasant bit of entertainment, certainly more interesting than its competition (CSI: Miami; The Bachelor), and should fit very nicely with NBC's light-fantasy Monday lineup.
Dan Vasser (Kevin McKidd) finds himself having episodes of relocation in time, jumping (in the pilot) as far back as 1987. At first, he thinks they're just vivid dreams, but eventually he realizes that something really is happening to him. Each week, it seems, will find him leaping about within the life of some specific person who he's meant to help; it won't always be clear whom he's meant to save, or how.
His unexplained absences from the present are beginning to cause stress in his marriage -- there is the strong implication that Dan has not always been the best husband, though it's never quite spelled out what exactly he did -- and he struggles desperately to convince his wife, Katie (Gretchen Egolf), that he's not drinking or on drugs. Brother Jack (Reed Diamond), a cop, is equally skeptical.
Dan's trips to the past are complicated by the fact that he keeps stumbling into people from his own past, notably his one-time fiancee, Livia (Moon Bloodgood, who seems to have a thing for this sort of time-travel fantasy, having played a similar role in Day Break); running into her often means running into Katie and Jack, who were dating when Dan and Livia were engaged.
As is often the case with time-travel shows, there are a few unfortunate anachronisms; we see the F-line of streetcars in a scene set several years before they were actually introduced, and a character refers to "Y2K" in late 1997, long before the phrase entered popular usage. I do like, though, that the show doesn't shy away from the potential complications of Dan's jumping into a period when he was already present. There's a cleverly handled moment in the pilot when Dan realizes that at least one person understands what's happening to him, and that explanation seems likely to be the ongoing mystery of the show.
McKidd is a nice change from the leading men we usually get these days, with more rugged, craggy features; he gives Dan a bluntness that's refreshing. Egolf is terrific, funny and romantic as she and Dan celebrate their anniversary, convincingly nervous and unsure as she wonders what's happening to her marriage.
Journeyman is a pleasant bit of entertainment, certainly more interesting than its competition (CSI: Miami; The Bachelor), and should fit very nicely with NBC's light-fantasy Monday lineup.
TV: The Big Bang Theory (CBS, Monday 8:30/7:30)
Sheldon and Leonard (Jim Parsons and Johnny Galecki) are not merely nerds, they are über-nerds. They have reached the state of perfect nerdhood to which other nerds can only aspire. They are, therefore, utterly at a loss when pretty young Penny (Kaley Cuoco) moves into the apartment across the hall.
That's pretty much the entire plot. The show will succeed or fall entirely on the strength of its writing and on the chemistry among the three principal actors. Based on the pilot episode, I like its chances.
Parsons and Galecki are terrific in roles that provide unusual challenges; Sheldon and Leonard (I can't help wondering if those names are an homage to the TV producer of the 1960s) have larger vocabularies and more complex sentence structures than the average guy, and both actors deliver the tricky dialogue with great panache. They're a fine comic duo with a sharp rhythm, and they're instantly credible as long time friends. Parsons, in particular, has a distinctive, oddball way with a line, and I suspect he's going to be given most of the physical comedy on the show.
Their nerdiness and awkwardness could be offputting, and I think one of the principal goals of the pilot was to win us over to those characters. For that reason, Cuoco's Penny doesn't get to make so strong an impression in the first episode, but she comes across as very likable and does a good enough job with what she is asked to do.
The show is produced by Chuck Lorre, creator of Two and a Half Men; like that show, there's nothing edgy going on here. It's another fairly conventional sitcom. But it also shares the strengths of Two and a Half Men -- it's well-written, and has a solid cast playing interesting characters. I'm optimistic.
That's pretty much the entire plot. The show will succeed or fall entirely on the strength of its writing and on the chemistry among the three principal actors. Based on the pilot episode, I like its chances.
Parsons and Galecki are terrific in roles that provide unusual challenges; Sheldon and Leonard (I can't help wondering if those names are an homage to the TV producer of the 1960s) have larger vocabularies and more complex sentence structures than the average guy, and both actors deliver the tricky dialogue with great panache. They're a fine comic duo with a sharp rhythm, and they're instantly credible as long time friends. Parsons, in particular, has a distinctive, oddball way with a line, and I suspect he's going to be given most of the physical comedy on the show.
Their nerdiness and awkwardness could be offputting, and I think one of the principal goals of the pilot was to win us over to those characters. For that reason, Cuoco's Penny doesn't get to make so strong an impression in the first episode, but she comes across as very likable and does a good enough job with what she is asked to do.
The show is produced by Chuck Lorre, creator of Two and a Half Men; like that show, there's nothing edgy going on here. It's another fairly conventional sitcom. But it also shares the strengths of Two and a Half Men -- it's well-written, and has a solid cast playing interesting characters. I'm optimistic.
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