Idiot Boxing

Don't Bring Me Clown

2010-01-24T19:01:00.003-05:00

Not to poke Modern Family fans with a stick or anything, but after the jump, here's a WalMart commercial that achieves in thirty seconds what the "Fizbo" episode couldn't do in thirty minutes.

As an online friend noted, creativity is subtraction. Here's the "birthday party with clown gone horribly wrong," boiled down to the essentials. Even though you're prepared for every element in advance, it still manages to surprise in the execution.

Moreover, it has the "documentary" feel. It has as much character building as you can get in half a minute. You empathize with each of the parents in turn. And the payoff is beautiful.

The most amazing part to me isn't that WalMart approved this ad, but that WalMart has an ad that's genuinely entertaining.

Modern families are all alike.

2010-01-08T00:13:00.005-05:00

It's time. Critics—many of whom I normally agree with up one side and down the other—love this show. Heck, after only two months, the Hollywood Reporter prematurely included it in their list of the ten best shows of the last decade over series like Arrested Development and The Wire.

I've given it eleven episodes, if only to see what all the fuss was about, and surely that's a fair sampling.

Thoughts on Modern Family after the jump.

For those who don't know, Modern Family is about, well, a modern family. Ed O'Neill plays Jay, the patriarch with a new young Colombian wife and stepson. Then there's Claire and Phil--she's Jay's daughter--and their three children. Finally, there's Cameron--Jay's son--and Mitchell, Cam's life partner, who've just adopted a baby from Vietnam. In the words of the ABC Medianet, "Shot from the perspective of an unseen documentary filmmaker, this comedy takes a modern look at the complications that come with being a family in 2009."

The pilot was cleverly constructed so that we weren't supposed to know that these three families were all really part of one extended family. Smart idea, one that would do an actual reality show proud. Unfortunately, the ABC promotional department went and gave up the ghost before it aired.

In the weeks before it aired, I don't know how many times I read that this was the best pilot anyone had seen in years, maybe on a par with Arrested Development Considering the cast and crew, it was one of the only new shows I actively looked forward to watching.

And then it aired.

I'll be honest. This show confounds me. It's well made, the cast is good across the board, the pedigree of the writing staff is mostly impeccable and it's won near universal praise. And yet, I haven't laughed or smiled once in eleven episodes. I've continued to watch long beyond the point when I'd normally give up on a show precisely because I'm trying to figure it why it doesn't work for me.

It started with the pilor. One subplot was painful to watch. Phil's son, Luke, shoots his sister with a BB gun, and so, in true "punishment fits the crime" mode, Phil decides to do the same to the boy to show him how it feels. This leads to a scene where the family tries to coordinate their schedules with the calendar to find the right time for the shooting. And then, in the end, in the moment, Phil decides not to fire, because Luke's fear of the shooting was enough. Alas, being in the idiot-manchild mold of Michael Scott, Phil slips and shoots the boy anyway, thus proving Chekhov's rule about toy guns. Not only that, he also shoots his daughter's new boyfriend and then himself. Of course. Comedy rule of threes, I suppose. (Also by Chekhov.)

Even by sitcom standards, what part of that subplot was recognizable human behavior? Claire, as the presumably sensible mother, should have stopped things right off the bat. And who didn't see the end coming a mile away? They establish Phil as bumbling throughout the episode, and then, presented with a gun, there really was no other possible outcome.

The other subplots in the episode--Cam and Mitchell bring their baby home from Vietnam to introduce to the family, and Jay is mistaken for his new wife Gloria's father because of their age difference--were fine, nothing special one way or the other. There was a touch of stereotype to each, whether Latina or homosexual, but at least there were attempts to play with those stereotypes and subvert them.

Because of the structure of the episode, we only have a few minutes to realize they're one big family, and for Jay to go on about how, if Cam and Mitchell want to adopt something, they should adopt a dog—oh, look, he's intolerant--before they reveal their new baby. This is immediately followed by a heartwarming "here's the lesson" voiceover by Jay. The pacing is odd, there's little set-up for the whiplash back and forth, but Ed O'Neill sells it well. The casting makes the narrative shorthand plausible, but presumably, they plotted and wrote it long before they cast it.

Every inch of the script is polished and buffed, every line punched up, every beat right on cue. As the season has gone on, I've noticed more and more critics pointing this out, that if the show has a flaw, it's that the writing sounds less like reality and more like well-honed writing.

You don't need to remind me that Frasier wasn't a paragon of realism. But it was never presented as such. Extraordinary things happened in various episodes, the characters were wittier than mere mortals in similar situations, and yet, the show worked. The characters were grounded, they had clear connections and reasons for being, they combined in different and entertaining ways. It was a situation and style of show that played to these writers' strengths. And that's where Modern Family falls apart for me.

Goodness knows I have a healthy respect for Christopher Lloyd and Steven Levitan's work on Frasier and Just Shoot Me. (Both shows suffered later from extensive turnover in writing staff, but that's part and parcel of being a long-running show.) They know how to craft a punchline, broad or subtle. Even in their failed series--and there's a decent list of those--there were bright spots in the writing.

And I certainly enjoy both series and films done in this mockumentary style. The Office which has its ups and downs for me, and Parks and Recreation are just two sterling examples of how to do this right. (I know that Jace at Televisionary is smiling right now, knowing how I felt about the first season of P&R.)

I think the disconnect for me is in the combination of these two elements--the very polished sitcom writing and the shaggy psuedo-real shooting style. In this show, they do not mesh at all.

The documentary angle of the show simply does not work. It is not organic to the situation, it is not remarked upon unless it's convenient to the moment, it is not well-thought out. The documentary cameras just happen to catch all the information/exposition they need, whether cameras would be in the situation or not. They must be some talented, well nigh invisible cameramen to be able to capture some of the scenes they've shown us.

More to the point, these people only act as if they're in a documentary when they're in the so-called "talking head" or confessional scenes. Often, these appear to be shot in one long session and then broken up to fill in gaps within the story, which lead to odd questions of "why doesn't he know X detail, if he's retelling this to us after the fact?" He or she may be wearing the same outfit, in the same pose, but suddenly they're acting and reacting to story details from later in the plot. But, with rare exceptions, they don't seem to be aware of the documentary in their everyday lives, and they don't seem to realize that the things they say on camera in these confessionals will be seen by any of their family or friends.

That's the big difference between Modern Family and the NBC mockumentary shows. Greg Daniels and his crews have done a wonderful job not only in designing the worlds of The Office and Parks and Recreation, but in thinking through how an actual documentary of these stories would be made and edited together.

In Modern Family, those confessional scenes are a crutch for lazy writing. They're almost all "tell, don't show," which breaks the first rule of writing. They're as easy as Family Guy and their scattershot cutaway gags—you can see them coming, you can almost set your watch by them. They're not organic to either the reality of the situation or of the purported documentary.

In Office and particularly Parks, the talking head scenes often seem offhand, caught in the moment, on the spot. It's rare for them to jar you out of the reality of the show. (Usually, when that happens, it's Michael Scott tilting into cartoon stupidity. But that's one reason why, as much as I like The Office at times, it wouldn't make a list of my top ten shows of the '00s. Which I supposes Myles is going to want me to write next…)

With both of Daniels' shows, there is a clear awareness of the documentary crew, there is an acceptance of their presence. This allows Nick Offerman to steal a scene from the background with the merest flick of an eyebrow. And there is a sense of distance when needed—moments when no cameraman would plausibly be in the room are handled deftly, often as exposition through dumb show as with Jim and Pam discovering her pregnancy several rooms away from the camera, in silence. The confessional scenes then elaborate and enhance the story as opposed to serving as an obvious punchline. The writing and directing of both series is keenly aware of the documentary structure and how best to use it.

Compare that to Arrested Development, which was shot and designed in a similar style, but is not in itself a mockumentary. The omniscent narrator is used to propel the story, to tie things together and is, at times, an unreliable narrator. But at no time are we told that this is a documentary or even reality. It could simply be a story. The show understood its style and stayed consistent with how it presented the characters and stories.

Another problem I had with the pilot and the series in general is that I don't understand why any of these families are together. Jay has a younger Latin wife because they want to tell jokes about the age and ethnic differences. Cam and Mitchell adopt a baby so they can tell jokes about two daddies. Claire married Phil because he's a romantic doofus, I suppose, they've told us that much. Beyond that, these people are connected because the writers want them to be.

This is a problem when you have episodes like the most recent, which has been described as "three stories taken down from the board at random." The three branches of the family don't really interact in this episode. But then the question is, why would a documentary crew want to follow them? If the stories don't connect in some way—either thematically or directly—then are we watching random sketches? Short stories? An anthology series about people who are supposedly related? Why are these stories placed together in this twenty-two minute period? Because the writers had three stories and twenty-two minutes.

The closest the show has come to getting a smile from me was with the episode where the various families connected in different ways, ie Jay and Gloria's son Manny visiting Phil and Claire's to spend time with their son Luke, but instead connecting with his "sister" Claire and, at times, being the more mature person in their conversations. Clever twist, even if the actual writing was again overpolished and obvious. Each combination of characters in that episode was surprising—and that's what the show needs, more spontaneity and more surprise. At the very least, there needs to be some kind of connection, some reason for us—and the filmmakers—to follow these people.

That doesn't mean the entire family has to get together by the end of every episode. But with everyone in such close proximity, and with a natural reason to interact, there's no reason why they can't drift in and out of each others' worlds more regularly or more naturally. They've built in all kinds of excuses for these characters to be together in various configurations, but they haven't taken advantage of them. If I had family around when I had a baby, I'd be calling on them and spending time with them regularly, especially if they had experience with children. That's just one example. There don't have to be big events or parties or get-togethers, and the more often they do that, the more tired it seems. Considering how many times they've gone to that well in eleven episodes, I'm not holding out much hope.

Arrested Development also had a sprawling family with even less reason to spend time together. But every interaction, every random combination of characters was different and often laugh out loud funny. The show stayed loose and light on its feet, and at every turn, it surprised the viewer. Or viewers. (I think it had viewers.)

It was interesting earlier in the season to watch as fans of Modern Family and Community started acting like the Jets and Sharks all over the interwebs. If you liked one, the other had to go down. I wasn't in either camp, but I will say this: as the season's worn on, Community has evolved from a snarky, amusing pilot to a show with real warmth and, well, community, while Modern Family has maintained its sleek, well-made, well-worn engine without changing or developing. The problems I had with the pilot have been repeated and magnified with each episode.

And still I watch.

The cast is charming and clearly having a good time working together. Ty Burrell does a good job with what he's given, but he can't help but come off as a faux Steve Carell. The tone of his character veers wildly between earnest and goofy, with less of the nuance of Michael Scott at his best. But again, that's the writing. Eric Stonestreet fares better, but his character's a little more original. Rico Rodriguez is absolutely winning as Manny. And Ed O'Neill looks like he's having the time of his life.

They also let the guest cast shine. Benjamin Bratt in particular gave an interesting performance in this most recent episode. But even there, his character—Gloria's Colombian ex-husband—was inconsistent with what we'd been told up till now; Bratt's version was, frankly, more interesting than what I'd been expecting from previous episodes' exposition, but that's beside the point.

In the end, it all comes down to the writing.

Several weeks ago, the promos for the episode Fizbo looked promising. Again, the interwebs were filled with word of how this was a particularly good episode.

Fizbo began with the dreaded in-media-res opening of someone at the hospital as the family converges. We're not supposed to know who's been hurt, of course. The episode flashes back to set up another big get-together, Luke's birthday party. Plans escalate to absurd degrees, but the instant Claire sets up her little crafting station with beads, the first thought in my head was, "Oh. Luke's going to slip and fall on beads and wind up at the hospital." It's innocuous and "lame" compared to the other, dangerous activities at the party, so it has to be the cause, and it has to be Luke because that would be poetic. And it would turn out to be his best birthday party ever.

We then get moments of Cameron as Fizbo the clown—with, as Alan Sepinwall pointed out, the "marvelous assembly of words that is 'weird gay clown uncle.'"—and the scorpion and the archery, Phil's fear of clowns and Gloria in the bouncy castle, intercut with flashes of more family members showing up at the hospital and thus not the mysterious patient. Finally, all hell breaks loose, and what happens? In the chaos, Luke slips and falls on beads and winds up at the hospital. And yes, it was his best birthday party ever.

Stonestreet was lovely as Fizbo, and again, I appreciated that they were tweaking stereotypes, this time adding clowns into the mix. Still, I sat deadpan the entire time. I suppose the marvelous assembly of words amused me, but it's almost funnier in Sepinwall's description than it was in practice, if that makes sense.

Frasier proved that Lloyd and Levitan know farce, which is very specific and different from comedy. Fawlty Towers is farce. Jeeves and Wooster, 'Allo, 'Allo, specific episodes of Frasier—the back-to-back fifth season wonders of The Ski Lodge by farceur extraordinaire Joe Keenan and the Cowardian Room Service by Ken Levine and David Isaacs—or the Woody's Wedding episode of Cheers (written by the great David Lloyd), these are farce. Fizbo skates into farce territory, with hidden secrets, a ridiculous chain of events and the climax where every element of the plot smashes together. But it never goes beyond its mechanics, it doesn't stick the landing. It stays obvious throughout, right up to another heartwarming ending.

Look, there's nothing wrong with a standard-issue, well-made sitcom. Modern Family is better than a fair number of sitcoms on the air right now. Maybe without the hyperventilatory praise, I would've enjoyed it more. After sticking with it through these eleven episodes, though, I think I'd have come to the same conclusion.

If you enjoy the show, by all means, keep watching. As for me and ABC's Wednesday night lineup, I'll stick with The Middle. It's not reinventing the wheel either, but it's evolved nicely since the pilot. The writing is clever, the situations recognizable, the characters human, aside from Brooke Shields. Stories zig when you expect them to zag, with a sense of humor more in line with Arrested Development and Better Off Ted. It even manages to be heartwarming without being obvious or saccharine about it.

More to the point, it's done what only Parks and Recreation, Community and 30 Rock have this season.

It's made me laugh out loud.

Normally, there would be a clever title here.

2009-12-03T23:04:00.005-05:00

But I'm not in a laughing mood right now.

Look, I love a good thriller. I enjoy murder mysteries, always have, always will. I saw Silence of the Lambs in the theater twice, and I don't do that often. Homicide is one of the few series I've ever tried writing a spec script for. But. I don't watch Dexter. I didn't have a particular reason before. Now, I do.

This news story is unremittingly grim. The headline is enough: "Ind. teen charged with strangling brother, 10." And if you read the story, the teen talks about how he felt "just like" Dexter, as in the Showtime series.

Sure, you can tell me all about how Dexter has a code that he tries to follow. Yes, you can tell me that a tv show shouldn't be held accountable for the actions of one person. Go on and tell me how I can use technology to block my children from seeing the show. Fine.

But it's not just a tv show, is it? It's a wide-ranging marketing campaign, including websites, whether the official Showtime site, MySpace, Facebook or the Twitter feed, which runs contests you can "take a stab" at--their words, not mine. It's ads on buses, billboards, magazines, stands in shopping malls. It's boxed sets of DVDs that--at our local WalMart--are conveniently shelved a foot off the floor, right next to the rack of new kids' DVDs with the Wonder Pets and Dora and all.

Now, you can "Dexterize" your friends' Facebook pages. You can order a Dexter Bloody Mary on select Delta flights. You can buy cute little bobbleheads of "all your favorite characters," though to listen to most critics, I can't imagine most of those other characters will sell. (Find your LaGuerta bobbleheads at BigLots. Or not.)

Miss it Sunday night on Showtime? Catch the rerun on Saturday afternoon. Early on Saturday afternoon. (Thanks, DirecTV, for that gift of three free months of the Showtime package. Could I please just have Sundance Channel all by itself? No? Okay.) Better yet, you can catch episodes online in any one of a number of places.

And the animated prequel as web series? Lovely.

Every inch of that marketing and product is designed to amuse us. Isn't that clever? "New killer...season." Look, he's smiling a goofy smile, but the side of his face is splattered with blood. Awwww. Oh, in this one, he's shushing us and hiding his knife. How arch. Even if the show itself tries to provide some nuance, some balance between dark humor and pathos, the marketing is portraying this as Fun! Fun! Fun! He's the serial killer even a mother could love. Wait, there's a good slogan for the next season...

I know what's involved in selling a product, I've worked at that myself. It's doing what marketing is supposed to do, making the product as appealing as possible to the widest audience possible. Sometimes, we lose sight of what product we're actually selling. More to the point, we lose sight of to whom we're selling.

There are no parental blocks for billboards and magazine covers.

Did Dexter really influence this kid? I don't know. Did he learn anything from the show? Maybe, maybe not.

All I know is, I want nothing to do with a show like this. I'd rather be entertained.

Bear with me, not Fozzie

2009-09-24T01:22:00.003-04:00

We've redesigned the place, getting ready to blow out the cobwebs and start writing about the new fall season. Short version so far: Community made me laugh out loud. So did Mercy, although it didn't mean to. And I'm about to watch Modern Family at last.

Stay tuned...

Chuck Vs. The Poor Development Slate

2009-04-09T16:08:00.002-04:00

Or "Vs. the Silverman" might be more appropriate.

What with the series Chuck facing an uncertain future, I've made a few avatars, badges, what have you, for use on Twitter, Facebook or the social network of your choice.

More images after the jump...

I made these at the suggestion of Mo Ryan, who knows some of my design work and suspected I was a fan of the show. I'm very much a fan--I can't think of another current show that hits as many of my mental tickle spots with the possible exception of 30 Rock. And this has secret agents.

Here are a few more avatars to choose from. Feel free to use them to show your support for Chuck. Just right click on the image, select "save image as..." and you're good to go. Some are better in the larger format, but all should work within Twitter et al. And I'll be adding to this collection as the month goes on, so check back if you have avatar ennui...

Here's one last one, in honor of Mo's beloved Saul Tigh avatar, which has been temporarily displaced.

And here's a question for the tv types out there. Is there some unspoken covenant that every thirty years, a man named Silverman will rise to drive NBC into the ground? I'm just wondering...

It's not TV, it's live theatre...

2008-12-24T11:56:00.002-05:00

I'm in the midst of a break from tv and tv-related blogging, since we've been elbow-deep in production this month with a new play. That and, well, it's Christmas. But speaking of, here is a blog post from McCarter Theatre in Princeton, NJ--where I lived for many years--concerning some complaints about their current version of A Christmas Carol.

The short version? The author, astounded, rails against all the criticism they've been getting about not using "God bless us, every one," as the last line of the story.

After the jump, my take on their take on Dickens.

The author's argument that ‘it does still appear in the story, you’ll hear it in the Christmas Present scene, it’s okay,’ shows a keen talent for Jesuitical hair-splitting, but also a fundamental misunderstanding of the message of the story and/or the season.

But pointing out that “it’s a bit unclear who would say: ‘and so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!’ It’s only Scrooge and Tim onstage, after all!” is disingenuous at best. There’s nothing that says the line at the end has to be exactly that word for word. It doesn’t need a narrator. It doesn’t even need people beyond Tiny Tim and Scrooge on the stage at the time. But I think it does need to be there, assuming you have a 6-yr-old who doesn’t “squeal” the line. Why?

For one thing, people are waiting for it. As a writer, I don’t subscribe to the “do what’s expected” school of thought very often, but once in a while… You wouldn’t adapt “Gone With the Wind” and end with the line “I’ll worry about it tomorrow.” You wouldn’t end “Casablanca” with “Hey, I like you, let’s hang out.” Even if you could craft a line that gets the same meaning across–and presumably with more style than those two examples–you’ll still get slammed by audiences and critics alike simply because it’s one change too many. But it’s more than just staying true to the words of the book. Why is it that people are waiting for that line?

Because to wrap the play up with Scrooge saying ”a heart which until very recently never knew the meaning of the phrase–a very…merry…Christmas” doesn’t quite capture Dickens’ intent, I don’t think. Yes, it illustrates how Scrooge himself has changed, fine. (It might be nice if it didn’t sound more like Dr. Phil than Charles Dickens, but that’s another criticism entirely.) I would argue that Dickens isn’t only concerned with Scrooge at that point. By ending with that thought, the play stays closed off, there is only one person who is touched, and that person is Scrooge.

Ending with the line, “God bless us, every one,” isn’t just some little kid being cute, it isn’t just a moment in the story itself, it is Dickens reminding the audience directly and–here’s the important part–including and welcoming them into the story and the sentiment. The playwright's line goes past sentiment into sentimentality. Furthermore, done well, the scene should balance past, present and future, or youth and age, or even innocence, corruption and redemption if you’d prefer, all of which are more than a little thematic to the story.

In any case, people are waiting for that line precisely because it is the one moment meant for everyone, it is the one moment addressed directly to them. Without that closure, you may have a lovely production of “A Christmas Carol,” but it will–and does–seem a little chillier than it could be.

As for the comment that “one post asked us to ‘return your play to Mr. Dickens’ (funny, he didn’t write the play…),” I suppose that’s supposed to sound clever, but the post isn’t implying that Dickens wrote the play. It seems to imply that your play should get back to more of the original language.

In the interests of full disclosure, I should say that after years in the Princeton area, I now live in the Louisville area, so now I get to see the Actors’ Theatre of Louisville production each year. Their adaptation tinkers with the story as well, and this year introduced some new elements to the production. My own theatre company has produced the one-man version of Tom Mula’s play, “Jacob Marley’s Christmas Carol,” for a few years running as well, which is a wonderfully different take on the material. But both of those adaptations understand that whatever it is you change, that line belongs at the end of the story.

Of course, in the last twenty years, the most effective, most beautiful production I’ve seen of “A Christmas Carol” has been the one-man stage version performed by Patrick Stewart, which doesn’t alter the text as written except in trimming for time. It is, quite simply, stunning.

It just goes to show, Charles Dickens knew how to write one hell of an exit line.

The facts are these...

2008-11-21T12:15:00.004-05:00

It seems Pushing Daisies has finally, apparently, been cancelled. I say that because there's still no official word beyond the fact that ABC isn't ordering any more episodes beyond the initial 13 this season. No, the ratings have been underwhelming, to say the least. Yes, the show is expensive, even after trimming the budget after the pilot. From a business standpoint, the whole thing makes sense.

So why is ABC making a big mistake?

You could make the argument that it's a critically acclaimed show--which is is, for the most part--and that it's always good to keep those around. That's fine. Me, I've been down that road with ABC before, albeit a different regime. (It's a little scary to realize that article is already ten years old. Anyway. Moving on.)

No, there's one solid reason to keep Pushing Daisies alive and kicking on the air, and it has nothing to do with its ratings or its fans. Bryan Fuller, the creator of Daisies as well as Wonderfalls and Dead Like Me, was on the staff of Heroes in its first season. He was responsible for episodes like "Company Man," widely considered the single best episode of the series. Since he left the staff, the show has gone downhill. (I'm being kind. The ratings have gone downhill. The writing has gone beyond.) And Fuller has stated that, if Daisies were indeed cancelled, he'd like to go back to Heroes and see if he could rescue it.

So let's see. Here, we have ABC with a well-liked, critically acclaimed show created and run by a man who, were he not under contract, would go back to NBC and their former monster hit series and try to restore it to its previous ratings (and coherent) glory, a man credited with being the best writer who ever worked on that show. Does this make sense to you?

Me, I'd keep the player off the board. If that means keeping Daisies on the air, so be it. Who really loses there? The fans win, because the show stays on. The network wins, because it gets some press for sticking by someone with actual creative vision. And the network also wins because their rival's series keeps struggling.

Of course, I would've brought the show back after the writers' strike, even if only in reruns. How many classic series survived to a second or third season only because the reruns ran all summer long and gave people a chance to catch up and fall in love? (Hello, Dick Van Dyke!) But no, they kept the show off the air for NINE MONTHS and relaunched it cold this fall. No lead-up, no real promotion, no real explanation.

Considering the nine-month absence, I think I might have gone with a more concentrated promotional push aimed at reintroducing the show instead of assuming that people knew about it and were simply waiting for it to return. Great, people in a few major cities got free pies. That accomplished what, exactly?

And then, after the bounce in ratings from being the only alternative to the Obama-mercial, I probably wouldn't have taken the show off for the following two weeks. Call me crazy, I'm thinking people came back the following week, found a reality show and ran away again.

Granted, as R. A. Porter reminded me, this is TV, not sports, "There's no Billy Beane." Very true, and maybe that's a shame. The networks try counter-programming, but here's a chance to do more than that. Oh well.

Maybe, if they had really been smart, they might have held off on bringing the show back until midseason. What's a few more months between friends? Then, there would have been less noise, less competition, less frenzy. Maybe get some kind of promotional material in as many bakeries and pie shops around the country as possible. Maybe reintroduce the series over the Christmas holiday break, with two or three episodes across the week between holidays. Then, pair it up with a complimentary show, maybe give it a better lead in, maybe put it on Sunday evening where it might have a chance. Maybe go to a thirteen-episode-per-season schedule for some series, giving more time to concentrate on quality--this works for FX, BBC, etc. (It used to work for HBO, but that's another story...)

I'm always amused--and a little insulted--when the networks try to pass off their programming as rocket science. (Well, everyone except Ben. Hi, Ben! Leave 30 Rock alone, and I won't mock your talking car anymore...) Especially these days, when the niche channels are not just nipping at their heels but surpassing them in quality, acclaim, awards and--once in while--even ratings. Smart promotion, smart scheduling, a modicum of patience and a tolerance of quality. That's all it takes.

I doubt anyone will come along and, like the Piemaker, raise Daisies from the dead for more than a minute, but if there's anything I've learned from the show, it's that it never hurts to be optimistic.

That, and stay away from nuns in green habits.

Hey, moose. How you doing?

2008-10-20T13:01:00.011-04:00

I have to say, as a fan of the inexplicably funny Mark Wahlberg Talks to Animals sketch from the other week, I did enjoy the follow-up cameo this past weekend, mixed in with all the Sarah Palin stuff.

But. The actual payoff fizzled, I thought, partly because they didn't follow the old "comedy rule of threes." Maybe I'm crazy but they could have put a nice button on everything--and tied it all together even more--after the rap number...

After the jump, see what more they could have done.

One more quick bit with the moose and Mark backstage a few minutes later. "Hey, moose. How you doing? I saw you got shot during the news sketch. I'm in 'Max Payne,' opens this weekend. Say hi to your mother for me." Even better, the moose could point out that he's not an animal. Or even that it was Andy Samberg inside. "Yeah, I know you're in there. But just remember, I'm going to be watching you." They could have gone in any number of directions with it.

That would have pulled everything together, it would leave the subliminal message to keep watching the entire episode each week--or even to keep watching past November 4th--because you never know what's going to happen, and it reinforces the movie he's there to promote--hey, moose, I play a guy with a gun. Best of all, like that last sentence, it keeps to the rule of threes.

Surely, that would have been funnier than either of the conference room sketches, about which the less said, the better.

One more thing...

2008-09-26T17:02:00.003-04:00

Busy week, but before I forget...

-- The Office is back, it finally got another hour-long episode just right and all is right with the world.

-- I'm already suffering Burn Notice withdrawal on top of my Middleman withdrawal.

-- My boys are deliriously in love with Pucca. Thank you, Tim Goodman.

-- I'm still having delayed stress flashbacks to Josh Groban at the Emmys. Please, make it stop.

-- Looks like I get to drink a milkshake after all.

-- Went to see Teller talking about the Science and Wonder of Magic this morning at the Idea Festival in Louisville this morning. As he put it, "What you read on the website and in the programs? A thin tissue of lies." A good opening line, if not quite true. An excellent talk with insight not just into magic but creativity and ideas itself through the evolution of a magic trick. (Yes, I know how to do it, and no, we promised not to say how.)

-- You know what might have been funny? If Groban's medley had included his impression of a test pattern. (I'm assuming the medley was supposed to be funny. It was, wasn't it?)

-- On second thought, forget the milkshake. It probably doesn't taste very good, all things considered...

Comedy checks in, but it won't check out...

2008-09-22T22:12:00.002-04:00

Granted, today is officially the beginning of the fall season, and hardly anything has premiered. I haven't seen much of anything--and much of what I have seen has made me pray for hysterical blindness. (I'm looking at you, Knight Rider. Wait, no, I'm not...) So it's probably unfair to have a pick for the dead pool...

Then again, Do Not Disturb has been on twice, it's gotten abysmal ratings that, if I'm not mistaken, went down, and now, the creators have--presumably with tongue in cheek--sent a letter to TV critics to apologize "for being the perpetrators of such bad television." I'm sure FOX loved that approach.

I'm sorry, if you're really that aware of what you're doing, then why are you doing it? There are good writers out here who could use some work.

So there it is. If Do Not Disturb isn't the first show cancelled this year, I'll eat my hat. Or drink its milkshake. Or go write something.

Beating down on your soul like a drum from hell.

2008-09-19T23:02:00.006-04:00

"A shadowy flight into the dangerous world of a man who does not exist." That sounds like something from The Shadow or Mr. Keene, Tracer of Lost Persons, very 1940's radio serial. But no, that was from the original opening narration for Knight Rider, the classic car commercial/stunt show from the early '80's.

Well, now it's back and--ahem--better than ever.

After the jump, see if it purrs like a Koenigsegg or strips its gears and rolls coming around Gambon.

What I saw: Knight Rider.
Where it's at: NBC, Wednesdays @ 8pm as of 24 Sept 08
Who made it: Gary Scott Thompson, of Las Vegas and The Fast and the Furious.
Glib deconstruction: Don't hassle the Hoff.
What I thought: Brain hurt. Hulk smash.
What I'll do: Run like the wind.

I know what you're thinking. "The original show was never high art. It had David Hasselhoff, for crissakes. And as his evil twin, Hoff in a goatee." Either that or you're wondering what Gambon has to do with anything. More on that in a minute.

Yes, I know it's supposed to be escapist silliness. Yes, I know it's a cartoon. I don't have a problem with that. But why can't it be a good cartoon?

It's true, I watched the original from time to time. I was 11 when it premiered, and even then, it was pretty silly. On some level, the new version seems aimed at the same age range, what with the transforming cars and the things-go-boom and all. It's even scheduled during the so-called family hour. So what's with the psuedo-nudity and the dismemberment? It's not explicit, it's not even all that grotesque--I'm no forensic scientist, but even I know that when you cut off someone's thumb, there's going to be some blood. Still, the concept is there. This didn't disturb anyone at the network?

One thing that struck me funny is that no one seems to know what kind of show this is, whether the actors or the writers. Is it sophomoric rom-com or is it intense post-Iraq drama? It is an allegory about the encroachment of technology into every nook and cranny of daily life or even one's own existence, or is it hot transforming cars go boom? I just don't know.

Considering the "sleeping pods," the activity space and the shifting and changing identities of the espionage heroes--not to mention the focused amnesiac mind-wiping of our hero--it's almost like a hundred monkeys started typing when they saw all the articles about Joss Whedon's Dollhouse coming later this season on FOX. If only they had been good monkeys...

Part of the problem is the car. Well, the voice. It's kind of amusing to imagine Val Kilmer's character from Real Genius grown and evolved and somehow involved in bringing a car to life, becoming the template for the voice and personality of the car. Then again, that's a show I'd probably enjoy. But this is more like Val Kilmer from The Saint, another remake best left forgotten. He's all monotone and mellow and...zzzzz...wha...sorry, dozed off just thinking about it.

A funny aside. I watched this first episode on Hulu.com. Bear in mind that when they made the backdoor pilot film last season, Will Arnett was originally cast as the voice of KITT. The few ads and teasers that leaked out with his voice made it sound almost worth watching; it's not hard to imagine Gob Bluth giving the lines some kind--any kind--of spark. But then Ford, who was providing the car and a certain amount of promotional support (in return for a ridiculous amount of promotion), nixed him, as he was also the distinctive voice behind the current GM campaign. So they hired Kilmer and re-recorded all the dialogue. Why am I telling you this?

Because the Hulu.com episode I watched was sponsored by--and filled with ads for--General Motors. Oops.

The movie was pretty awful, all in all, right down to the touching cameo by the Hoff. (Seriously, we're supposed to call him the Hoff?) But it's nothing compared to what is apparently the template for the series. They brought in Gary Scott Thompson to rework the whole concept, and he wrote this first episode. I won't bother explaining anything about it, because the quotes speak for themselves...

"We can do this the easy way...or the VERY HARD WAY!"

"I think I'm gonna hurl. Yup."

"Mike, you have to get his thumb back at all costs."

"You invented an unbreakable code and hid the key to it in your DNA? Dude, that is so stupid."

"The chance to negate the everyday humiliation beating down on your soul like a drum from hell?"

Or how about this exchange, between father/mentor/not-mad scientific genius and daughter/spy/hero's love interest:

Charles: You okay?
Sarah: It's...something's wrong with Mike.
Charles: What are you talking about?
Sarah: Something happened to him...in Iraq.
Charles: Things happen in war, Sarah. Things men don't want to talk about.
Sarah: No, something else. Something different. Something very bad.

Um, okay.

As for the location, let's just say this D.C. area native is wondering just which Metro station those mountains are near. Also, why did the stock footage look more like the train system around Wilmington and Philadelphia? And why would you set part of a story in one of the most distinctive looking Metro systems in the world and then clearly film elsewhere? (Which is to say, why would you bother writing it when you knew you couldn't and wouldn't film it?) Nitpicky? If I'm paying that much attention to the background, then something's wrong in the foreground. After all, I highly enjoyed Rumble in the Bronx without once caring that the Bronx looked a little too much like Vancouver.

Cartoon is fine. Just make it smart. Just a little bit.

So no, it's no Koenigsegg. It's not even a Hruck Bugbear, the pinnacle of Balkan engineering. It never even got to Gambon. Jeremy Clarkson would blow the thing to kingdom come. And that's a show I'd watch. Actually, I do. Top Gear, Mondays at 8:00 pm EST on BBC America. Which is odd, because really, I don't care about cars at all, I just enjoy the interaction between intelligent human beings.

And with that bombshell, it's time to say good night. Good night.

I don't know what that means...

2008-09-18T20:59:00.005-04:00

We'll return to our regularly scheduled blog in a few minutes. I just wanted to take a minute to talk about Bond music. James Bond music.

Granted, the producers didn't do anyone any favors--least of all their marketing department--by using the title Quantum of Solace, although I give them points for using one of the only remaining titles Ian Fleming came up with. (I double dog dare them to use the last one and name the next movie James Bond in New York. I know, you can't wait, right?)

After the jump, a couple of songs. One's fun. One's uncanny. And one's the actual title song for the new film.

First, the fun song, which I guess is actually called "Quantum of Solace," the poor thing...

Anyway.

For the new film, the producers' first choice was Amy Winehouse. Shockingly enough, the actual song is by Alicia Keys and Jack White, of the White Stripes. Sounds like a match made in, well, some production meeting where they'd spiked the bottled water. The BBC premiered it recently, and it's getting some airplay in Europe already. If you're curious, here it is.

Some are saying this is way better than the title song from Casino Royale, "You Know My Name," by Chris Cornell. Google that and you'll find countless posts at Ain't It Cool News and elsewhere that loathe the song. It's "not the worst Bond song, it's just the worst song." Call me crazy, I actually liked the Cornell song, thought it worked well in context and out. Clearly, growing up with Bond in both book and film--and owning several Bond albums since childhood--doesn't count anymore. Whatever.

But this song? Yeesh. It kind of hurts the ears. No. It's kind of like sticking flaming hot knitting needles in your ears. (Thank you, Michael O'Donoghue.)

All joking aside, Winehouse might have pulled it off. Just listen to Love is a Losing Game and think about what might have been.

Of course, this is the same group that commissioned a theme for Tomorrow Never Dies by k.d. lang, then turned around and got a new one by Sheryl Crow instead. The Crow one is all right, if bland. The lang one? They retitled it "Surrender" and used it over the end credits, long after people had left. Here, give it a listen. (You may need to click twice. Go ahead, make the joke, you know you want to...)

Tell me that doesn't just scream Bond. She's channelling Shirley Bassey, for crying out loud. Close your eyes, you can see the nude silhouettes on trampolines, the not-at-all-too-phallic-guns, etc.

There's one thing that this and the Cornell song have in common. They were co-written with David Arnold, who's scored the last few films and has done a beautiful job. He gets the Bond music vibe; better yet, he seems to exude it. His scores pick up on music cues from each of these songs, but it has little effect in TND because we never got to hear the song at the top of the film.

So once again, we're going to get some hideous song out of some misguided attempt to seem "hip" and "relevent" instead of a song that has something to do with the story and the music within.

I have no answers. So I will leave you with the original, unused theme for The Man With the Golden Gun by Alice Cooper. Seriously.

Better yet, a proposed theme for Thunderball by Johnny Cash. Just amazing.

Which just goes to show, sometimes the producers got it right...

Where is the love?

2008-09-13T23:58:00.003-04:00

Just enjoyed the opening of tonight's SNL. Let's face it, there would have been chaos in the streets if Tina Fey hadn't appeared as Sarah Palin. (For the record, she nailed it and stuck the landing.) Bear in mind, she not only stars in her own series, she's the head writer of it, too. Fortunately, Lorne Michaels produces both shows, and they're both on NBC. Synergy is a wonderful thing.

That's why I found it odd that, given this golden opportunity to promote her under-promoted (and again Emmy-winning) show to a presumably good-sized audience--which would not only have been a nice gesture of thanks but would have an upside for the network--they instead led right into a promo for a movie, then a pitch for the new-to-DVD most-recent season of Smallville, a show on another, smaller, struggling network. A show that runs on Thursday nights. Which is when Tina's show runs.

I know. It's the NBC marketing team. Why do I even bother?

Laying down my shield...

2008-09-07T19:18:00.001-04:00

Today at Salon.com, Heather Havrilesky gave out the fifth annual Buffy Award for "the most underappreciated show in all of TV land." Past awards have gone to the likes of The Wire and Battlestar Galactica when both were young. (As for Veronica Mars and Friday Night Lights, I appreciate them but don't much care for them.)

What's so different about this year's pick?

Apparently, this year's most underappreciated show is The Shield, a show that gets a lot of press and a lot of critical acclaim, just like the previous award winners. And all but Veronica Mars have won Peabody Awards. Makes sense. But.

It's also won an Emmy for Michael Chiklis, a Golden Globe for him and the series, plenty of nominations over the years, its ratings have held steady--and fairly high for cable, if I'm not mistaken--and its dvds sell well, too. Is it really that underappreciated?

I suppose you could argue that it's an acquired taste, but underappreciated, I don't think so. Maybe if you go by Emmy awards or fanfic websites, okay. But how about something like 30 Rock, which is nominated for, yes, a record number of Emmys, but it's barely registering on the Nielsen scale. That's underappreciated. That's a show that people need to know about.

Or The Middleman, which is good silly fun, but nonetheless smarter than the average bear. I like The Shield, I have several seasons' worth on DVD, but I'd much rather spend quality time with Wendy Watson. (That didn't come out right...moving on...) It doesn't have the budget, and it's on the wrong network, but it's smartly written and well played. (Arguably, it's the right network if only because they allowed the creator to make it the way he wanted, which alone is reason for joy in Mudville.)

The Shield is a very good show with flashes of greatness. It deserved its Peabody, no question. But isn't there something else--anything--that could use a little attention that's truly gone under the radar?

Still here...

2008-09-05T14:22:00.002-04:00

And now that the 6 yr old's in school all day, I might actually have time to post more regularly. (Well, let's amend that. How about "at all," instead...)

After the jump, some random thoughts on all kinds of things from new fall shows to kids' tv, and the shows I'm going to miss...

In no particular order...

Wow Wow With a 3 yr old still in the house, we watch a fair amount of Noggin. Nothing wrong with that. And when he found out there were new episodes of Wow Wow Wubbzy! on Nick Jr. this week, well, we had to watch. They've added a new character who's suddenly best friends with everyone. It's still early, but I can't decide if this is more like the introduction of Buffy's little sister or Scrappy Doo. (I'm leaning toward Scrappy right now. This is not a good thing.)

It's like Die Hard in a building. This week brought the season--and maybe series--finale of The Middleman, based on the comic book, which in turn was based on the original pilot script. (And here's the blog of the creator, Javier Grillo-Marxuach, complete with lists of in-jokes and references for each episode.)

I'm crazy in love with this show, but not because of big budget effects or casts of thousands populating each scene. (Good thing, that.) And it's not because it hits all the same pop culture touchstones of the last fifty years that hit my mental tickle spot. (Although it does.) No, it's because the writing is sharp and smart, and so are the characters. Loose ends or no, it would be a real shame if we didn't get to see more of Dubby and friends. (The fact that it passes the Bechdel Rule and has inspired its own--the Morales Rule--is just icing on the cake.)

Here's Johnny... The only thing more exhaustive than NBC's coverage of the Beijing Olympics was their coverage of their new fall shows. That's not a big deal--it makes perfect sense to use a platform like that to gain some awareness. But. Couldn't they have shown more than one ad for each show over and over? Oh, wait, that's right, no one's got a finished pilot yet. Sorry, my bad.

Which brings me to My Own Worst Enemy. (Tell me that title's not ripe for headlines and bad reviews.) So okay, Christian Slater plays one man with two separate and distinct personalities. Forget the rest of the premise. Christian Slater is playing two different characters. How will we tell them apart? Will he raise a different eyebrow for each? Will he do a young Nicholson voice for one and an older Nicholson for the other? And I like Christian Slater.

And please, do not make me watch Kath and Kim. That's one of those shows that follows Gene Siskel's rule that asks, "Would a film of the same cast and crew talking over lunch be more interesting than the film they made?" Based on the people involved and the clips they've been advertising--presumably the best clips, the ones most likely to draw viewers to the show--that answer almost has to be yes.

Blergh. I'll leave you with this picture, from the cover of the Sept 2004 issue of Life magazine.

That really is Tina Fey. Methinks someone has a (perfectly understandable) crush.

But despite all the VPILF talk, I'm sorry, the governor just doesn't compare to the original:

To be continued... If I don't stop now, I won't have anything to write tomorrow. And I'm going to write tomorrow. No, really...

Two bits...

2007-11-16T22:26:00.000-05:00

According to this story at the LA Times, NBC has officially picked up Quarterlife, the new online serial from the creators of Thirtysomething. It will begin airing on NBC in midseason, while Ed Zwick and Marshall Herskovitz continue to own and control the property, which has been airing on MySpace.com and on its own website.

But. If they're members of the Writers Guild--and I know they are--then how can they in good conscience sell this show and presumably continue to write and film it until the Writers Guild strike is over?

It's one thing to create and produce the show as it is now, in eight minute episodes that air only online. It is, in fact, something I've been curious about myself, in that they've bypassed the networks entirely. The show was originally developed under the only slightly less precious title "1/4life" for ABC, which passed on the project. So they took it online. By doing it this way, they control the content, they collect the revenue. Ironic, considering.

Now, by going in the other direction, migrating from the web to the network, they manage to have their cake and eat it too. They get their show on television, they keep control of the online presence, they have it all.

But by doing this, they're providing fresh, scripted programming to the network, which undercuts the strike itself, not to mention the reasons they're striking in the first place. Would they stop dead on the online version, considering it would eventually be aired on television? That doesn't seem likely. In fact, the timing for that couldn't be worse, since the series only just launched. Still, I don't understand how they can rationalize this new deal.

Yes, theirs' is a model for the brave new world of scripted programs on broadband. Maybe more writers should consider such projects. I know I have. Instead of a complex pilot process, just get some theatre actors and film them. It can't be any worse than the pilots we wind up with now. (Well, of course it can, but there really are talented people outside of LA and NY, and some of them have cameras and computers and a little free time. How to weed through the field? Maybe focus on theatre companies with streaming media. Just saying.)

Depending on the actual agreement, it may also show that networks are willing to think outside the box, so to speak. That's something that should be shouted from the rooftops. After all, here's a network buying a show that started life streamed online. It was designed as an end in itself, with the expectation of advertising and sponsorship revenue to support the series and help maintain a broadcast-quality production. Clearly someone thinks there's that kind of revenue to be had online.

In the interests of full disclosure, I ought to admit that I've watched the first few installments of Quarterlife and have found it marginally more entertaining than watching paint dry. That's neither here nor there. It's certainly deeper and more ambitious than a lot of what passes for television these days, and certainly Zwick and Herskovitz's other shows could be acquired tastes as well. I acquired some, not all. So I'd be willing to give this some time. (Heck, if I can change my mind about Chuck...) The fact is, it's good enough to go on real live broadcast television.

The question is, which is it, scab program or beacon to the future? A show that helps to undercut the strike or sets a new standard for writer/producer contracts?

A dose of reality

2007-11-13T16:32:00.000-05:00

First, a video.

Isn't there anyone out there who can tell me what the Writers Guild strike is all about?

It's about residuals. This is not an extra payment, this is not a bonus. It is a percentage, or remainder, of the original payment that has been held back, which is then paid out later in the life of a tv show or movie. Every time the studio receives payment for the use of a show or movie, a small percentage is supposed to go to the writer, among others. Sounds fair, right? So what's the problem?

No one wants to pay the writers. The average writer makes pennies on DVD and iTunes sales, if that. And now, the networks and producers claim that they don't make any money through broadband and streaming video. They're trying to claim that streaming video--with ads--is merely a promotional tool. Never mind that the ads are paid for; that payment rises and falls based on the number of eyes watching the video. Never mind that if you were to stick that video stream on your own website, they'd sue you so fast, your head would swim.

Fortunately, I don't have to keep going on and on, because that free, streaming video full of experts above does such a good job of explaining the issue.

No, not one of them is a writer. And yes, these are the same people who are trying to tell us now that there's no money in broadband and digital streaming. They're trying to convince everyone that the writers are trying to gouge more money out of them. These are also the people who are going to flood our screens with ever-dumber reality shows just to fill the air. But the reality is, the writers are only asking for fair compensation for their work.

Several years ago, the Guild ran a series of ads highlighting famous lines and scenes from movies, with the slogan, "Somebody wrote that." Imagine Casablanca without writers. (Wait, thanks to Letterman's staff, you don't have to.) How many reality shows can you quote from? (How many would you want to?)

That's what the Writers Guild strike is all about, Charlie Brown.

Ironing while the strike is hot.

2007-10-23T13:25:00.000-04:00

In today's New York Times, there's an interesting article about the potential writers' strike that could start as soon as November 1 and how it would affect televsion shows across the board.

What jumped out at me was this quote:

“Any time you rush movies, you disrupt the rhythm, and I can promise you the result isn’t as good,” said John Davis, a producer of “Norbit,” “I, Robot” and other movies.

Wow. That makes me wonder what the producers of good movies are thinking.

No wagering, please.

2007-10-18T13:22:00.000-04:00

Over at Teevee.net, they have an annual competition called the Dead Pool. It tracks the odds of failure of the new fall shows. Funny that a show set in a casino by way of Cop Rock isn't at the top of the list. I know, I know, it's hard to argue with Cavemen. But for my money, I think musical numbers will turn more people off than bad makeup and recycled must-see-tv jokes.

What I saw: Viva Laughlin.
Where it's at: CBS, Sundays @ 8pm
Who made it: Hugh Jackman and a bunch of other people
Glib headline: Craps.
What I thought: Laughlin? Really?
What I'll do: Dance on the grave before it's cold.

Don't get me wrong, I love musicals. (I work in theatre, so that's a relatively safe bet.) And I enjoyed Viva Blackpool when it was on BBC America. I thought it was Dennis Potter Lite, but that was all right, because I don't much care for The Singing Detective et al. The main reason the British version worked was because everyone committed to the conceit. Actors, directors, writer, everyone seemed to believe in what they were doing, and what they were doing was insane, a noirish murder mystery rock musical set in a casino.

Viva Laughlin is the show you'd expect from a description like that.

Aside from Hugh Jackman's turn with "Sympathy for the Devil," the pilot just lies there. Everyone seems a little uncomfortable, as if the only thought in their heads was, "At least 'Cop Rock' had original music." Or perhaps, "I need a new agent." There's a murder mystery, there's adultery, there's Melanie Griffith being utterly unconvincing as herself. And then Hugh strolls in, brings the show to life for a few minutes, and then everything's back to normal. And seriously, one reason for the sing-along/lip-synching of the original and the Dennis Potter shows is that they'd hired actors who can't/don't sing. But Hugh Jackman don't need no stinkin' Jagger. Right there, the show squanders its one natural, bona-fide resource by undercutting him with the real song.

And Hugh's the executive producer.

If you think about it, the core audience for this show will be turned off by the clumsy choreography, the karaoke singing, the cheese factor. And anyone who's mildly curious but doesn't otherwise like musicals will look at this and have all their prejudices confirmed. As for people who've seen the original British series, just forget about them. They've seen it done as well as it can be, short-run and unrepentent, not watered down in the hopes of attracting people over the course of 22 episodes a year for how many years?

It premieres tonight after CSI before settling into its regular timeslot. But is there really a crossover audience there? Unless the Vegas CSI folks go on a road trip...

How a network could look at this and order a series is beyond me. Okay, CBS may be desperate to experiment outside of their comfort zone. On the other hand, they've hosted the Tony Awards for how many decades? And what about live theatre--musical or not--in the so-called golden age of the 1950's? CBS was the place to beat back then, too. So all singing, all dancing isn't necessarily as much of a stretch as some are saying. All things considered, I'd have expected a lot more from them.

I'm not going to bother describing anything else, because there's nothing to see. At least with Cavemen, there's the rubbernecking factor, wondering if they'll make a decent joke or acknowledge the fact that they're cavemen. When it comes to extinction, my money's on Laughlin.

Read a book.

2007-09-23T13:19:00.000-04:00

As long as I'm checking out new shows, I might as well comment on some that I wouldn't normally watch except for the fact that I'm a work-at-home dad (in the mornings) and thus have a lot of repetitive, competitive kids' shows fighting for my sons' attention spans. SuperWhy! is one of those shows, alas.

Yes, that's an exclamation point.

What I saw: SuperWhy!.
Where it's at: PBS, weekday mornings, times may vary
Who made it: Angela C. Santomero, of Blue's Clues
Glib deconstruction: Get a clue.
What I thought: Not very much.
What I'll do: Endure it for the littlest one, for now.

Before I go into my own reaction, let me share the boys' impressions. My two year old watched, rapt and happy, and now he asks for it by name. After a day or two, I decided to TiVo an episode to try on the five year old, as he's usually as school at that time of day.

I knew the show was in trouble when--during the credits--the first thing the five year old said was, "Shouldn't that be a question mark?" followed shortly by, "But that isn't a question." We agreed that "super why" meant that you reeeeeally wanted to know why.

Of course, it's in the same vein as Blue and Dora and Little Einsteins, all the shows by the same core creative people trying to outdo one another in crafting puzzles for preschoolers. My eyes were beginning to cross by the time they got to the second meta-layer of reality within the setup. Not the story, mind you, still the setup.

Once they finally entered a storybook, the five year old chimed in with, "That's too many layers." Since we've never talked about things like that, I asked what he meant. "First, it's a library, then Storybook Village, then the Book Club, and then they jump into a book?" Right, and... "If the storybook friends live in Storybook Village, what are they doing inside a book inside a club inside the village?"

I think I hugged him at that point.

The heroes enter books in order to solve some everyday problem in Storybook Village. What kind of problems? A cat is stuck up a tree, and they want to know how to get it down. "Get a ladder," says the five year old. Twenty-five minutes and several expositional sequences later, they get a ladder.

However, in order to enter the books at all, they become "the Super Readers." Which would be fine if they actually read the books and learned from them. What they really are is "Super Editors," because once they enter a book, they discover that something is wrong, i.e. Rapunzel has short hair. So the magical Princess Presto spells "grow," and poof, long hair. Okay, so they've "fixed" the story, which, unless you know the book, might seem more difficult to solve than the problem they're actually trying to solve. But then, they proceed to further change the book, i.e. it hurts for the Prince to climb Rapunzel's hair, so "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your ladder," and poof, she's free.

To top it all off, they have to collect magic letters while in the book, which will eventually spell out the solution to their problem. They leave the book, go back to their book club and then need their computer to spell out the magic solution.

Even trying to explain this is hurting my brain.

The thing is, in changing the classic stories, they alter or lose the lesson or moral of the original. Now, Goldilocks is Baby Bear's regular babysitter, and she thought they'd be home and accidentally made a mess while waiting for them. But isn't the point of the story not to go into places you don't belong? I suppose the "don't make a mess with other people's stuff" is still there, but the primary lesson is lost.

If they were readers, they would read the story and learn from it. Period. This leaves the impression that books are malleable, interactive experiences inasmuch as you can change them however you see fit, never mind the author or the creative impulse behind them. Books don't change as you read them.

On a second viewing, the five year old noticed just how much of each episode was repurposed from the last one, which is to say most of the transformational segments as they go from layer to layer within the premise. "Why didn't they make a new show?" I've noticed that children don't mind repetition so much, but there's a difference between repeating a song or routine and repeating the exact footage over and over without change or variation.

Apparently, this was the project that Angela C. Santomero worked on as her thesis project, long before she created Blue's Clues. Blue, pre-speech and dopey puppetry, was a far more engaging character and series that drew children in; thanks to Blue, my eldest scared the preschool folks a few years back by naming chartreuse and aquamarine on a color chart. By contrast, this is flat and empty, which is ironic considering the many layers and dimensions they've tried to build into the thing.

My two year old watches and it keeps him occupied. My five year old went off to read some Winnie the Pooh. The real one, not the Disney, not the picture books.

I guess the real super "Why?" would be, why did PBS think this was worth the time and trouble?

This just in: Double entendre trotted out for umpteenth time to no good purpose

2007-09-21T23:47:00.000-04:00

Back to You is not so much a case of reinventing the wheel as repurposing it. The whole thing seemed as though the writers took script pages at random from The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Murphy Brown, NewsRadio, SportsNight, Goodnight, Beantown and even Good Morning, Miami, tossed them in a blender and prayed for a smoothie.

And these are writers I like.

What I saw: Back to You.
Where it's at: Fox, Wednesdays @ 8pm
Who made it: Steven Levitan, of Just Shoot Me and Christopher Lloyd, of Frasier
Glib deconstruction: Frasier Burgundy.
What I thought: I hate spunk.
What I'll do: Try, try again.

Kelsey Grammer and Patricia Heaton play Kelsey Grammer and Patricia Heaton, bickering co-anchors in Pittsburgh. You don't really need to know anything beyond that. Seriously. If the show were just the two of them, it would probably be fine. As it is, the scenes between them in the pilot, especially with the two alone together, are the only times when the pilot comes close to working.

Unfortunately, they have to be surrounded by cartoons. Yes, there's Fred Willard, who does a great job with what he's got, even if he likely ad-libbed the best lines. (There's a reason he's in all of Christopher Guest's improvisational films.) But tonally, he and the character are in another dimension. At least he and Grammer play off one another well. Of course, we've already seen Grammer banter with a dopey sportcaster.

What amazes me even now is how Grammer, Heaton and Willard can take one-note jokes and find the harmony in them. As for the rest of the cast, it's more that the characters themselves are one-note. The news director is just Miles Silverberg of Murphy Brown without the competence or, apparently, anti-perspirant. That running joke made me think of "Mr. Sweaty Guy," from the late, lamented Jon Lovitz cartoon, The Critic, which pegged that concept as inept late night sketch comedy hack work fifteen years ago and counting.

And how about the reporter with the unpronouncable last name? "Wojeciehowicz. Say it like you spell it." Wait, no, that's from Barney Miller. My mistake. So maybe they didn't stick to pages from newsroom comedies. Goodness knows the biggest laugh in the pilot--Grammer's character trying to get through a commentary that's suddenly rife with dual meaning to him and him alone--is a concept lifted straight out of "The Candidate," an episode from the second season of Frasier. He did it well then, too.

Even if we forget all that recycling, the whole episode played as if the writers hadn't seen a local newscast anywhere but Los Angeles in years, if ever. A sexy Latina weather girl, not even a meteorologist? In Pittsburgh? Really?

Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed Christopher Lloyd's work for years, and much of Steven Levitan's as well. I know they can write and write well. But with this series, I have to take that on faith. When your show can be compared in any way with Good Morning, Miami--let alone unfavorably--you know you're in trouble.

That it is enjoyable at all is entirely due to the leads. Hopefully, the writing staff can find the depths in the characters that the actors seem to have found. At the very least, maybe they'll make an effort to repopulate their world with human beings.

If they do, let's just hope they're not imported from other, better shows.

Believe it or not...

2007-09-20T23:58:00.000-04:00

High on the teevee.net Cliche-O-Meter for this fall are geeks and guys named Chuck. One show combines the two, conveniently named Chuck. And as I watched, I started to think of another geek. A guy named Ralph.

What I saw: Chuck.
Where it's at: NBC, Mondays @ 8pm
Who made it: Josh Schwartz, late of the O.C.
Glib deconstruction: Thinking outside the big box.
What I thought: I liked it with the red suit, too.
What I'll do: Stack it up on the TiVo, see how it goes.

As much as I enjoyed the pilot episode--and I did enjoy it--after all the expositional chases and showdowns and alliances were out of the way, I realized that this was basically The Greatest American Hero, version 2.0. Instead of a high school teacher, we have a self-proclaimed "professional nerd" working at a big box store. Instead of a cranky Robert Culp with the FBI, we have a cranky Adam Baldwin from the NSA. Instead of a stable, sensible brunette girlfriend, we have a stable, sensible brunette sister. Think of it as an upgrade.

I know, it's reductive, there are only seven plots, et cetera. There's a little more going on here, starting with the sharper sense of humor. And Zachary Levi as Chuck is often delightful, right down to the heartbreaking smile of joy when he thinks he's doing well on a real live date. And then, plot happens, and that red suit from the '80's comes back to me. Why?

Because the characters and their relationships are far more interesting than the action side of the plot, or even the gimmick behind the series. Not only that, but the actual story is barely there. Granted, it's a pilot episode and has to be front-loaded with premise and more premise with a side of premise, but I can see how it would be easy to skate along with thin "save the world, stare at the cheerleader" plots as an excuse to make snarky jokes. It was the barely-there, by-the-numbers plots that lost me with Hero, and I was a lot younger then.

Everyone wants to be Joss Whedon nowadays. (And why not? The man can write, period.) The trick of it is, Whedon's plots don't just zig when they should zag. They zing-thwack-kapow when they should zag. (And the man can write comics, too.) That's why Buffy worked. That's why Firefly worked. Clearly, the writers behind Chuck can write sweet and snark in the Whedon style. If they can master that whole plot-till-you-drop style of storytelling, all the better. (Even then, Whedon manages to blend the two almost seamlessly. Did I mention the man can write? Exclamation mark!)

But I'll try it again, maybe in bulk, thanks to the wonder of TiVo. If nothing else, I have to respect the cojones involved in creating a show set at a big box store named "Buy More" next to "Large Mart" while still needing real, unironic advertisers to help pay for the show.

Poor you.

2007-06-11T14:57:00.000-04:00

It goes on and on and on... -- "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey

“Made in America,” directed and written by Chase, was an unexpected detour into dark humor, according to Mark A. Perigard, tv critic for the Boston Herald. Unexpected how? What series has he been watching all these years?

I couldn't describe this episode any better or ask for better analysis than the one over at The House Next Door, Matt Zoller Seitz's blog. In fact, if you want some of the best analysis of the series individually and as a whole, dip into the archives over there. And then check out the archives at tv critic Alan Sepinwall's site, What's Alan Watching.

Now a quote, and the reason I'm putting my two cents in...

And the blogosphere is busy dissecting every final moment, with some wanting to see profundity in the screen going black because of Tony's conversation with Bobby -- you wouldn't even know it had happened: everything would just go black. Or making a game of the foreshadowing moments -- the jukebox song below "Don't Stop Believing" was "Any Way You Want It". Phooey. The Nielsen reality is that people don't watch TV closely anymore, much less remember what went on from week to week, to give such a subtle ending its proper due. according to Nikki Finke.

That's just silly. If you're not going to pay attention--especially to a show that has demanded and earned attention for all these years, then why bother watching at all?

Besides, The Sopranos was not a show that went on inside your head. It was a richly visual series whose most memorable moments were graphic and in your face and damn proud of it. Nikki again.

Richly visual? Fine, yes, no argument. But some of its quieter moments were the moments that lingered, that people debated. Tony curled up with a gun in the next to last episode wasn't exactly graphic or in your face except in the way you as a viewer reacted to it. I don't feel like making a laundry list of quiet, powerful moments like that, but they're there.

But seriously, why shouldn't it go on inside your head? Why shouldn't Chase and co. aspire to making the audience think a little bit? As a creative artist myself, I'd argue that that's the artist's prerogative in making the art to begin with. But even if it isn't at first, certainly Chase and The Sopranos have earned that right and, presumably, that respect. If nothing else, he has the right to craft his stories the way he wants. He's the writer.

It's his story. We were just listening.

They're the modern stone age family.

2007-05-10T14:04:00.000-04:00

Cavemen pilot picks up momentum.

One question. Why?

Okay, it's true, I've got more questions. Who has ever watched a Geico ad and thought, gee, there's a great idea for a series? Really, who's ever watched any commercial and thought that? And yet, here we are, with the Geico cavemen poised to join the ABC fall schedule, if the Hollywood Reporter is to be believed.

Maybe it's just me, but I was tired of the joke halfway through the first commercial. By the fourth, I thought they were milking it. That's four minutes. Just what do they plan for the other eighteen minutes worth of show, minus commercials? Will Geico sponsor the series like something from the golden age of 50's television? Will there be a pet gecko running around as an in-joke? Will they bring back Baby Bob in an inspired bit of stunt casting?

I think what's most disturbing about the whole thing is that, with all the creative people spread around the country working in theatre, working in obscurity, this is the kind of thing that gets on the air as "something different." Heck, forget the rest of the country. Surely there's someone already in the industry with a better idea than this. Even Tiny House would make a better series. (Um, really not.)

The only good news in all of this? Someone at ABC's going to save a whole lot on their car insurance.

Deja vu all over again.

2007-05-09T14:07:00.000-04:00

Some months ago, when Grey's Anatomy was in the midst of its "Meredith dies and goes to the afterlife" story arc, creator Shonda Rhimes explained that they were "doing something that has never been done in television history." I'm still not sure what she meant by that.

Was it the thought of killing off the main character? Nichols, in 1971, ended its first season by killing off the lead with the intention of replacing him with his nicer, kinder twin brother. (Fortunately, it never made it to a second season, paving the way for James Garner to become Jim Rockford.) Okay, how about killing off the lead and visiting the great beyond before coming back? Magnum, p.i., which had intended to leave Magnum dead before signing a deal for one more season. Okay, how about killing off a lead in a medical show, et cetera? St. Elsewhere, in the fifth season episode "After Life," sent Howie Mandel through all three levels of the Divine Comedy, winding up with a wonderful concept of a supreme being, with glimpses of past characters from the series. (And they did it all in one beautifully written episode.)

Bingo, I think we have a winner.

Now, with the two-hour backdoor pilot sending Addison Montgomery down south to a Private Practice, she's done it again. Which is to say, she's taken the one sympathetic character left on Grey's and devolved her into Addy McBeal, complete with quirky music, goofball cases, screwed-up colleagues and mild hallucinations. Thing is, it's bad enough when men write female characters who are either shrill or incapable of existing in the real world, but why on earth would women write this kind of thing? And really, shouldn't a spinoff be called "Montgomery's Ward" if only for the sake of consistency?

The thing is, these older doctors make the young morons--um, interns--on Grey's look well adjusted. Which is kind of disturbing, but I guess it's plausible within that little bubble universe.

All I know is, if I'm looking for a hint of medical realism, reflective narration or even daydreams and hallucinations, I'm going to watch Scrubs. Because, you know, they've already done all of those things...