October 19, 2008

Must-Miss TV

Baseball playoffs have preempted about half the Fox shows I usually cover; in their place, I offer longer, less coherent rants about old favorites Heroes, Fringe and Pushing Daisies!

Everybody Hates Chris (The CW) — I admired this episode’s attention to continuity: Julius reading Soap Opera Digest, Drew’s knowledge of feng shui (stemming from his obsession with Asian culture), Tanya’s general brattiness. This episode got a little more absurd than usual—what with the Say Anything and Cosby Show spoofs, not to mention Greg’s instantaneous transformation into a pathetic hobo—but the writers wisely built the weirdness on a solid foundation of real human emotion. Chris’ conflict with Greg was so well-developed, I didn’t mind the tacked-on Drew and Tanya subplots.

I do have a mild complaint about Orlando Jones as “Clint Huckstable.” I’ve actually loved him since his days as the “Make 7-Up Yours” spokesman, and he took what could have been a great, dead-on Bill Cosby impersonation and went a few steps over the top with it, turning it into a ridiculous caricature. As a result, it kind of dulled the sharp, somewhat aggressive satire of the Rocks versus the Huckstables. Still a very funny episode, and Jones wasn’t terrible or anything—he just went a little overboard with the Cosby-isms.

Fringe (Fox) — Poor Fringe. I’ll go a little easier on it than maybe it deserves, because I have such ambivalence. When I look at it objectively, I can say, “Yes, it is improving in both the ‘standalone’ crimes and the overall mythology.” So people who liked the show and keep liking it, I hope, will stay happy with it. Just me, though? I don’t like where it’s headed.

Two weeks ago, they dropped some mildly interesting science on us regarding The Pattern and The Observer, only some of which was pilfered wholesale from classic X-Files episodes. It ended with a cliffhanger in which creepy undead John Scott returns from the grave to kick it old-school with Olivia. In this episode, the writers provided the lamest cliffhanger resolution this side of Heroes: turns out, he’s probably still in a Massive Dynamic lab somewhere, and what Olivia keeps seeing is some sort of leftover flotsam from their dream-sharing activities in the pilot. He keeps appearing to her throughout the episode, eventually leading her to a secret office/janitor’s closet filled with notes from his own, private investigation into The Pattern.

I didn’t like one bit of this. It all makes a twisted kind of sense and furthers The Pattern while de-assassinating Mark Valley’s character, but this show has taught me that “logical” doesn’t always translate as compelling drama. Abrams and his writers should stick to their comfort zone, in the realm of wildly incoherent; it works for Lost. The story of Electro-Boy Joseph Megar was a bit more engrossing, but it still felt like some of kind of generic, rehashed comic-book plot. In the end, it didn’t do much for me, so I’m left with the same thought I have every week: I like Peter and Walter and couldn’t care about everyone and everything else.

Next week is the last new episode before baseball forces Fringe off the air; it is also, most likely, the last episode I’ll watch.

Heroes (NBC) — Stupidity, thy name is Heroes.

In the first season, the writers led us to believe the rather cool notion that natural evolution created these people’s abilities. Now, we’re finally told that the Company has developed its “synthetic” ability drug, which they used on Tracy, Niki and the never-before-seen Barbara, as well as Nathan (and probably others—I’m thinking Claire, but do I really care enough to find out?). Here’s why it approaches the stupidity of Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s late-in-the-game “slayers were created via demon rape!” retroactive continuity: pretend these guys are tree-trunk-armed baseball players who can bat, pitch and field like nobody you’ve ever seen in the history of time. Truly phenomenal athletes whose stories unfold in a weekly, hour-long drama. One week, the writers give an offhanded, “Oh, by the way, these guys have been on steroids the entire time” explanation for their athletic skills. They go from amazing to “who gives a shit?” You lose interest in watching the outraged athletes trying to identify and expose the nefarious men who have caused them to unknowingly juice.

But wait, it gets worse. Angela Petrelli continues the explanation: the “formula” they used, while effective, could have dangerous consequences, which the company saw. She says something like, “We knew it couldn’t ever be used again—that’s why we divided it in thirds!” What?! I won’t waste my time diagramming the sentence to chart the full extent of its idiocy, but I will start speculating that Peter’s stupidity problem is genetic.

Remember my endless bitching about them repeating the time travel thing, how what was once very effective has had diminishing returns because they’ve used it so many damn times, and how if the writers want to solve the show’s problems, they’d stop simply repeating themselves? Insert the Pinehearst Company, a Primatech Paper for “villains” run (apparently?) by the ghost of Linderman. Gee, a mysterious company with a vested interest in ability-possessing people? Shocking new plot twist! Remember how it was kinda cool when they dropped weird Primatech hints in the first season? Diminishing returns.

Remember the devastation you felt the first time a major character was killed at the end of the episode? I do not have total recall of all things Heroes, but I distinctly remember the first couple of “oh shit, they just killed them!” cliffhangers having a visceral impact. Here’s what I thought when Hiro stabbed Ando through the chest: “I wonder how he’s going to use time travel to solve this problem.” I would ignore the ineptitude that prevented him from using time travel before having to stab him, but at this point, he may have and they’ll reveal his deception next week. I don’t know, but after the legitimate hilarity of their “we’re the worst heroes ever” conversation—the first time this season I remembered why I loved these characters—it disappoints me that they’ve headed in this direction; even when Hiro saves him, as we know he will, the rift between them will get bigger, ruining the show even more.

What about repetitive powers? Adam Monroe, introduced last season, is immortal like Claire. This season, we’ve met Tracy, whose “Ms. Freeze” ability mirrors a similar power Sylar possesses. (It’d also be a lot more fun if she said things like, “Let’s kick some ice!” or “Chilled to perfection!”) We have Usutu, who has Isaac’s “paint the future” power. Knox gains strength by feeding on people’s fear; the fear thing is reminiscent of Peter’s early ability to absorb the powers of people near him, while the super-strength is no different from Niki/Jessica. “Eric Doyle” is a puppeteer, like Parkman and his father but without the mental invasion (I guess?). The hilariously named “Flint” can create fire, just like Claire’s mom only blue!. In theory, Daphne’s Flash power is kind of cool; in practice, it’s virtually identical to Hiro’s ability to slow down time and disappear from difficult situations. I don’t know what Robert Forster’s power is supposed to be, but Angela’s dream made him look a bit like Sylar redux, just like his son Peter! Finally, Mohinder has inherited little more than super-strength with an alarming ability to cocoon people in a terrible “homage” to either Alien, The Fly or both (it comes across as more of a rip-off than an homage, I have to say). So the only reasonably interesting and unique powers are short-lived Jesse Murphy’s “yell loud enough to do damage” thing and Stephen Canfield’s black-hole-making awesomeness. Both of these characters are now dead, leaving us with no unique or interesting abilities from anyone. Thanks, Heroes!

Ready for the low point of the episode, possibly the nadir of the entire series? Wasting a fantastic guest spot from The Wire’s Andre Royo (playing the above-mentioned Canfield) in one of the most incomprehensible and moronic episode storylines in the series’ history (and that includes everything involving Mohinder and/or Maya!). So, Claire is trying to hunt down “villains.” She steals a glimpse at Noah’s file and pursues him. Then she turns into a puddle of tears upon realizing he’s not such a bad guy (this is after she tasers him for fun). This is when Noah and Sylar show up, causing Claire to rage against Daddy for working with such a horrible, horrible monster while persecuting a fairly nice guy.

Canfield creates a black hole and bails while they try to get out of it, which is awesome, and when it dies down—after Sylar “saves” her—Claire scampers away. She meets up with Canfield at the Griffith Park Carousel, and within seconds Noah shows up. Rather than explaining the nature of Sylar’s particular evil—which might have motivated Canfield to help—Noah pulls a gun on him and says he’ll shoot him if he doesn’t make a black hole that they can shove Sylar into. Suddenly, Claire is on Sylar’s side—how dare Noah try to kill such a horrible, horrible monster while offering to let a fairly nice guy go free in exchange for his help? Canfield makes a black hole and throws himself in, destroying the only interesting new character to pop up on this show since the first season. Enraged, Claire rides home with Noah and Sylar, and Sylar gives her an anti-Noah pep talk that she buys into fully, then Noah gives her the “everything I do is to protect you” speech, which has no effect on her. I guess we’re supposed to buy her sudden change of heart because he helped her earlier, but come on. Everything about this was terrible.

I don’t even have the energy to get into the ghost of Linderman talking to Daphne. Who cares? I would like to mention, briefly, the inexplicable, future-mandated luvvv between Daphne and Parkman. One of the overall themes of season one is this idea that the future has no mandate—those trying to control it for selfish reasons (like Linderman and Angela Petrelli) will always be thwarted by people who just want to do good (like Hiro, and to a stupider extent, Peter), so, just as Doc Brown says at the end of Back to the Future Part III, the future is what you make of it. The writers have since forgotten this theme; every future flash-forward is followed by characters saying, “This will happen!” and twiddling their thumbs until they can accept their fate. (Hiro and Ando are the exceptions to this rule, and the only characters who have remained likable. Coincidence?)

I promised I’d give it another week, but I don’t know if I dare. At this point, I no longer have any faith that it will get better; I’m just seeing how much worse it can get before NBC cancels its low-rated ass.

Mad Men (AMC) — They’re veering off the beaten path with Don, and I’m not sure where the writers want to go with this story; maybe they aren’t sure, either, but I like to think they’ve just done a good job of hiding it. On the plus side, his California adventure featured a hefty dose of Pete being incompetent and a surprising guest turn from Laura Ramsey (from ABC’s short-lived The Days), fresh from horror-movie purgatory. Now, back in 2004, I admired Ramsey primarily for her hotness, so it’s nice to see she’s matured into a good actress. Even if I’m too dumb to understand the secret symbolism of The Sound and the Fury or the importance of Don hanging with some creepy California bohemian intellectuals, I can say she did a good job. And is still hot.

Back at the office, Duck finally made a move after Roger’s blistering—and hilarious—evisceration of his supposed job skills. I have a bit of a better understanding of what’s happening here, although I’m not look forward to Don coming home to a brand new Sterling-Cooper. But hey, it appears he’s not coming home any time soon, so who knows? Anybody want to take any guesses as to who Don intends to meet as “Dick Whitman.” Does it have anything to do with the woman from the flashback a few weeks ago, or the person he sent the book to in the premiere?

The Office (NBC) — This is the show I fell in love with. That might sound inconsistent coming from a guy with a well-documented dislike of the sheer volume of romantic couplings (and trianglings) this show has created.

What made it work this week? The Michael-Jan relationship clicks for me, and I guess the explanation goes all the way back to Michael’s pow-wow with the office ladies a couple of seasons ago: he’s an emotionally stunted idiot-manchild who got in way, way, way over his head. He’s stumbling through a relationship with a woman who clearly dislikes him and puts up with him for her own damaged reasons, so this relationship allows them to explore more of Michael than we’d ever see if he remained single or in a relatively non-abusive relationship.

Now, the triangle with Holly doesn’t exactly work, but that hug did—big-time. Because it wasn’t about her, and if she hadn’t been around, it probably would have been Pam or Kelly or… Well, not Angela, but somebody. Ryan? It’s not about him realizing his undying love for Holly; it’s about him needing to feel comfortable and loved in some way. I am sure everything will go to hell with Holly before too long, and I look forward to the uncomfortable ride along the way.

Dwight’s stroller subplot was funny and pointless, but I really enjoyed the Jim-Pam “out of sync” stuff. In a way, it’s a little too cutesy and “perfect couple”-y, and if I worked with people like that it’d annoy the crap out of me, but I think they threw in enough of a dark edge to it to make it satisfying. Maybe it’s my bleak worldview, but I enjoy these romantic stories as long as they’re incredibly depressing or hint at a layer of tragedy beneath the bubbly surface. When everything’s fine, that’s when it drives me nuts.

Pushing Daisies (ABC) — You might expect me to complain about this week’s Olive-focused outing on account of my intense dislike of Kristin Chenoweth. It might surprise you to know that, while I still dislike her with the same approximate level of intensity, I enjoyed this week’s episode almost as much as last week’s. The writers have actually dug back into the characters’ foibles and concerns and did a better-than-expected job of using that to generate the conflict of the episode; as I suggested, if they have a half-assed mystery, they should relegate it to the background, and that’s just what they did. They kept the mystery simple, opting instead to examine the abandonment issues that, in some ways, bond Ned and Chuck. I’m also very, very glad they didn’t try to string us along with the “Will Ned tell Chuck about ‘Aunt’ Lily’s secret?” question. A lesser show would use that conflict to generate subplots for weeks, but they came out with it almost immediately—well done! Also, just like last week, they allowed Emerson to investigate a different sort of case; it was still a murder, but because the victim provided almost no information, he actually had to be a detective. Everything’s humming along, and I have to admit, the writers have renewed my faith in this show. I hope its ratings reflect the quality improvement.

Raising the Bar (TNT) — Tempestt Bledsoe is still alive and not in jail? Who knew? Seriously, thought, it was a bit of a pleasant surprise to see her back on TV. They might have relegated her to a tiny role, but it’s better than not working, I guess.

On to the actual content of the episode—I have to say, even having characters comment on the implausibility of its conclusion didn’t make it any less of a cheat. The main thing that drew me to this show was the notion that the criminal justice system is screwed up and messy, and for the first time they expanded to show the external effects on a judge. It would have been ballsy and awesome to have such a heartbreaking ending after Kellerman’s machinations and, of course, “the wink”—a slap in the face showing us the real problems that result when the bench becomes politicized. Instead, the writers deliver a charmless happy ending that frustrated me to no end. Come on, guys… I’ve cut you slack for playing the “everyone’s innocent” card every week, but this is too much.

Sons of Anarchy (FX) — This week’s episode made me realize something that might force me to go easier on this show that it deserves: I like these characters, and this setting. From the start, I liked the acting, but the writing (and fight choreography) often left me cold. The writing improved greatly last week, and is still good here, but I think we got more opportunities to see these guys just hanging around, enjoying each others’ company. Without the usual angst and sloppily constructed crime stories, we could just relax and take it all in, and I liked it. For drug-dealing, gun-running, murdering thugs, they’re fun to be around.

If the ATF stalker thing is over, though, I will be very disappointed. Not because it was such great drama, but because if that was it, what was the point? It didn’t have much build, and Jay Karnes didn’t exactly have the menace or oddness to make him a memorable short-term villain. He just came and went. If he comes back to cause more trouble, more power to him; if that was it, ugh. I have to go back to complaining about the writing.

Supernatural (The CW) — If I wanted to prove to naysayers that Supernatural rises above people’s preconceived notions as a mediocre horror show, I’d probably play them this episode. It shows off one of the show’s best qualities—its sense of humor—but it also creates an inroad for outsiders by paying homage to at least a dozen classic horror films. The problem with introducing friends to Supernatural is that the earlier episodes are a little too cutesy, but the later episodes—despite improving with each passing week—rely far too much on a mythology a first-time watcher won’t understand. This hits the sweet spot, minimizing the mythology but retaining the basis of the show—brothers hunting demons.

It also featured yet another amazing turn from Todd Stashwick, formerly of The Riches. That show just got canceled, but will it matter for Stashwick? He’s popped up in no fewer than 500 guest parts over the past few months—apparently he saw the writing on the wall—and each time, he creates a unique and compelling character. Even here, channeling Bela Lugosi, he does a spot-on imitation layered with pain and sadness. This provides an example of another thing Supernatural does well—taking the old horror myths and giving them a nice twist. It’s not as good as Buffy or Angel, but I’d argue pretty vehemently that it’s the best sci-fi/horror show on the air right now (screw Battlestar Galactica).

D. B. Bates is a film critic and television viewer who has often shouted at fictional characters who probably wouldn’t listen to him even if they could hear him and existed in reality. Interested in explaining to D. B. the many ways he got it wrong? E-mail him.

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