It’s been six years since Aaron Sorkin’s “The West Wing” had many of us eagerly awaiting our weekly dose of presidential politics. Love it or hate it, Sorkin’s version of the inner workings of the presidency made an impact. For some, it was what politics should be. For others, it was pure fantasy. Whatever your view, the show’s earnest and optimistic image of public servants was a refreshing change from the notion of the corrupt politician. Its signature “walk and talk” style where characters had fast-paced, clever conversations while moving through the corridors of power gave otherwise dry policy discussions an appealing energy. Sorkin’s version of government was meant to inspire.
HBO’s new comedy “Veep” will probably not inspire you but it will make you laugh. Julia Louis-Dreyfus is Selina Meyer, the well meaning vice president who, along with her equally well meaning but bumbling staff, is trying to navigate the stormy seas of Washington politics without sinking. Selina wants to be an agent of change in perhaps the most ineffectual political office in the American government. It’s a good set-up for laughs and Louis-Dreyfus puts her talent for physical comedy to good use. In the pilot episode, Selina pushes for a cornstarch utensil initiative only to find that the plastics industry is a powerful lobby and her cornstarch spoon bends when she uses it to stir her coffee. Louis-Dreyfus’ reaction hits the mark as does her frustrated hand-waving whisper/scream of “What the f*#k!” when she finds out a member of her staff made a mistake that will embarrass her.
Working for Selina are her Chief of Staff Amy (Anna Chlumsky), personal aide Gary (Tony Hale), Director of Communications Mike (Matt Walsh) and Deputy Director of Communications Dan (Reid Scott). They try to be sharp political operatives but are routinely exposed as rookies. In other words, they are the B-Team in a world of pros. But like most B-teams, they are a likeable group because their mistakes and the efforts they make to fix them come with the best intentions. When Amy accidentally signs her name instead of Selina’s on a condolence card for the widow of a recently deceased senator, Gary tries to get the card back from the president’s aide. There is nothing stealth about Gary’s efforts at retrieval but it’s not slapstick or overplayed. It’s subtle and expected. He gets caught in a matter of seconds. Yet, it’s funny because it’s such a non-event.
Where “Veep” struggles is in its characterization of Selina. I’m not sure it’s believable that she would have such a soft touch having survived politics long enough to make it to the office of the vice president. But “Veep” works because Louis-Dreyfus makes you forget about this type of criticism. When she asks her secretary if the president called, she answers her own question. She already knows and this is what makes her interpretation of being an afterthought in the world of Washington politics simply fun to watch.
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Edwin Starr got it wrong. War isn’t good for absolutely nothing. Turns out, it’s good for reality television titles. There’s “Shipping Wars,” “Whale Wars,” “Storage Wars” (with an added Texas edition) and yes, even “Parking Wars.” The fighting continues over on the Travel Channel with the premiere of “Baggage Battles,” a show that follows the highs and lows of those who attend the international auction circuit for unclaimed luggage. According to the show, 70,000 bags are lost per day in airports around the world. When this luggage goes unclaimed for 30 days, it is put up for auction along with jewelery and watches that have been placed in separate, clear plastic bags. The auctions are crowded. The bids are hundreds to thousands of dollars. But, it’s more than buy low, sell high. This show fascinates me for the simple reason that I don’t get bored thinking: People put what in their bags?
“Baggage Battles,” despite the attempt at alliteration, is basically “Storage Wars” re-imagined to suit the programming needs of the Travel Channel. Instead of watching people try to outbid each other for abandoned storage units, you watch people try to outbid each other for unclaimed luggage. In “Baggage Battles,” the featured players are Billy, a former advertising executive who resembles a silent movie villain, Mark and husband and wife team Laurence and Sally. Mark could easily be cast in the role of “pushy New Yorker” should he ever want to change careers. Laurence is British, a former aerospace engineer and a man who never met a pair of red or purple pants he didn’t like. He wouldn’t be out of place in a Rolling Stones cover band. His wife Sally is the voice of reason and the keeper of the money. Billy, Mark and Laurence and Sally travel the auction circuit hoping to discover that one perfect suitcase or bag of jewelery that will make them rich.
Like any show that features an auction, part of the appeal is the tension created by the fast-paced, back and forth rhythm of bidding. Once the winner is decided, the appeal is the anticipation of opening a sealed bag. It’s a little like Christmas morning. Where “Baggage Battles” is most appealing however, is that it’s almost impossible to watch it and not be continually surprised by what people pack in their checked baggage. In the first two episodes, Billy finds a stash of rare coins hidden in the folds of someone’s clothes and Laurence and Sally discover a first edition book worth thousands of dollars. Seeing the contents of a stranger’s luggage is voyeuristic but wondering why in the world they didn’t wear that gold watch or diamond pendant instead of packing them is just entertaining. Who does that? More importantly, who does that and doesn’t claim their bag? Maybe the real battle is between the anonymous luggage owner and their common sense.
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I had high hopes for Kiefer Sutherland’s new series “Touch.” I really wanted to like it. It had an interesting premise, an excellent leading man (he’s “24’s” Jack Bauer, after all!) and a child actor who doesn’t actually speak. This part I considered a huge bonus because most male kids on screen are called ‘Tommy’ or ‘Jimmy,’ need a haircut and are not as cute or clever as they think they are. So I settled in and watched the pilot. Then I watched a few more episodes. Then I just wished Jack Bauer was back.
“Touch” is about a father and son and strangers and numbers—lots and lots of numbers. Martin Bohm played by Sutherland is a widower and father of Jake (David Mazouz). Martin struggles to communicate and care for Jake who is a mute 11 year-old. Jake does not like to be touched and shows almost no emotion but he does like numbers. He writes endless sequences of them. When he looks at numbers, we’re told by one character, Jake sees the whole universe. Or, in less New Age speak, Jake sees patterns in numbers that show him how people all over the world are connected in emotional or spiritual ways when their lives intersect.
The action focuses on Martin who figures out that Jake’s numbers are a kind of map that leads him to strangers who then lead to other strangers who are somehow all connected to one another. They all have a physical, spiritual or emotional need. So Martin spends each episode introducing himself to people he doesn’t know with variations on the line: “I know we’ve never met but somehow I’m supposed to help you.” One thing leads to another and Martin, in a “Touched by an Angel” sort of way, helpfully intervenes in a stranger’s life. All the other characters that have been introduced since the start of the episode turn out to have a purpose in each others’ lives as well, including the one who Martin was meant to help. Basically, the message is that we’re all connected. Nothing is random. Everything has a pattern and everyone has a purpose.
“Touch” is trying out a complex idea and I appreciate the effort and the creativity it takes to connect seemingly random characters. Where the show is losing me is in the predictability this format necessarily creates. I know where it’s going. It’s only the how that’s a mystery and it’s not a puzzle I can’t wait to see solved. The other problem is the increasingly mystical powers of Jake. He not only sees connections between people through numbers, he also seems to know the future. By episode two he strategically positions a baseball bat against a couch, anticipating that his father will need to use it in a fight that hasn’t happened yet.
With “Touch,” Kiefer Sutherland is still saving the world but this time it’s Jack Bauer-lite. Unfortunately, I’m skipping this kinder, gentler version and looking for a repeat of “24.”
“Touch” is on Thursdays at 9/8c on Fox.
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“Whale Wars: Viking Shores” begins with scenic shots of the Faroe Islands, an 18 island archipelago about halfway between Iceland and Norway. As far as vacation spots go, it checks all the boxes for a picturesque getaway—rugged coastlines, green pastures, quaint towns and more than 20 beaches. But once a year the waters of these idyllic beaches turn red from the “Grind” which is the Faroese term for a whale hunt. Using small boats, the Faroese herd hundreds of pilot whales into the shallow water off the beaches. When the whales are in position, the people waiting on shore rush in and stab them with hooks. According to the Faroese, it takes two minutes to kill a pilot whale. If Paul Watson is successful, it is two minutes that will never happen.
“Whale Wars: Viking Shores” documents the efforts of Watson and his marine conservation group Sea Shepherd to get between the whales and the Faroese who hunt them. As the narrator tells us in the opening episode, “There’s a storm coming and it has nothing to do with the weather.” The storm that is Paul Watson has been well documented over previous seasons of “Whale Wars.” He is willing to risk his life to save marine animals from mass killing and requires his followers to do the same. However, this single-mindedness, along with two seasons of chasing the same enemy (Japanese whalers), has meant that Watson and the “Whale Wars” franchise has become predictable.
“Viking Shores” tries to overcome potential viewer fatigue by introducing a new enemy in the Faroese. It’s an effective strategy because unlike the Japanese whalers who were mostly silent enemies, the Faroese are prepared to use the presence of the cameras to launch a more contentious defense.
While the “Whale Wars” series has always used television as a platform to heighten awareness of Sea Shephard’s cause, “Viking Shores” is an even more self-conscious production because the Faroese are playing to the cameras as much as Watson and his crew. While the Japanese responded to Sea Shephard’s acts of sabotage physically from a distance, the Faroese do not hesitate to use the show to draw attention to their position. In the first episode, a foreman of the Grind approaches a Sea Shephard member to explain how most of the local population feel about the hunt. Later, a Faroese man accuses Watson of launching his campaign against the Grind purely for the publicity it will bring him and his organization. Their arguments may not convince you, but they will make you stop and think.
The Faroese claim that the Grind is a tradition that has taken place for 1000 years. For many, it is an intricate part of who they are as a people. They compare the killing of whales for their meat (which they claim is a regular part of their diet) to the killing of pigs or chickens. This dynamic makes the fight to stop the Grind feel more personal. Whereas the Japanese whalers used the dubious excuse of conducting “research” to justify their killing of whales, the Faroese are transparent in their purpose. This doesn’t make their hunt less of a senseless slaughter but it does challenge the viewer to understand the fight to stop it in a different way.
“Whale Wars: Viking Shores” premieres on Friday, April 27 at 9pm/EST on Animal Planet.
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“Californication,” the raunchy comedy on Showtime about the sexual and relationship misadventures of novelist Hank Moody (David Duchovny), recently ended its fifth season and it will probably be the last for me as a viewer. I blame Charlie Runkle. He’s forced me to call it quits on a show I used to really enjoy. Charlie is Hank’s best friend and agent. His defining characteristics are his loyalty to Hank and his crazy sexual exploits.
In the early days of the show, Charlie’s adventures in the bedroom (or more often than not, anywhere but the bedroom) were funny in a cringe worthy sort of way. Insecure but likeable, he tried to please his wife but mostly fell short. This left him open to temptations and eventually a divorce. Single man Charlie then spent a season working toward the goal of sleeping with 100 women—this is a show called “Californication” after all—and yet, I can’t find the funny in Charlie or his fornicating like I used to. It’s all become a bit too predictable. I know that every time Charlie is in a scene with a woman that woman will end up offering herself to him in numerous and often, outrageous ways.
Charlie’s repetitive storyline has lead me to reassess my feelings for the show. To be completely fair, it’s also probable that I’ve grown tired of the overall narrative. The problem is no one seems to change but Charlie is a particularly blatant example. Some might argue that if a sitcom character is funny they don’t need to change because their role is to simply be funny. I think we should demand more.
Certainly, Charlie is meant to be comic relief within a comedy and Evan Handler is a talented actor who plays the character with gusto. But even the comic relief needs to occasionally re-work the act to keep it fresh and interesting. It’s not that Charlie doesn’t reflect on the consequences of his actions. It’s that he doesn’t learn from them. Arguably, this is why his character can be humorous and tragic but the always expected set-ups make it hard to see him as anything but two dimensional. He never learns, over and over again.
This is not to suggest that Charlie or his fellow sitcom characters need to be continually surprising but they do need to occasionally stray from the usual. If Charlie Runkle actually walked away from at least one of his you-can-see-it-coming-a-mile-away dalliances, I would take notice and maybe even like him a little more for it.
So how much change is needed to maintain a character’s balance between cozy sameness and sit up and take notice difference? I think the answer is: Not so much change that you miss the character you love but enough to make you love them even more. It’s about achieving a three-dimensional representation that injects a small dose of reality into the absurd. It’s not an easy balance but one without the other falls flat.
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On the second episode of “Beverly’s Full House,” a new reality series on OWN, former supermodel Beverly Johnson tells her daughter Anansa (a plus size model) that she will be back at their hotel room at 11am. Hoping for some bonding time, Beverly has set-up an out of town photo shoot for the two of them so she leaves early to check on things. Anansa is a new mother to daughter Ava and is expecting Beverly, an enthusiastic grandmother, to return to help her with the baby. Beverly is a no-show. When Anansa arrives at the studio she confronts her mother about why she never came back. Beverly’s reply is: “Oh, you took that literally?”
Aah, the joys of mother/daughter relationships. They can be contentious and loving all at the same time and it’s this balancing act, familiar to many mothers and daughters, that “Beverly’s Full House” is hoping will entertain you. The set-up is that Anansa, her husband David and their newborn baby move into Beverly’s house in Palm Springs so that Beverly and Anansa can work on their relationship. The family dynamics are admittedly rocky. Beverly, the first African-American model to be on the cover of Vogue, lost custody of her daughter until the age of 11 when Anansa came to live with her. As a result, Anansa has some issues to work out, namely feeling abandoned by a mother whose parenting responsibilities (at least for a time) took a backseat to her career. They are now close but the emotional baggage between them is unresolved, simmering just under the surface of their civility to one another. Sounds like a recipe for reality TV success, right? Former supermodel, daughter with buried resentments—cue tears and tantrums.
But this is a reality show on Oprah’s network which means that people will learn and grow rather than scream and fight. To this end, Beverly is shown having a phone session with her therapist and hiring a life coach who conference calls his advice to mother and daughter over breakfast. Despite feeling staged, the therapy sessions yield a few genuine moments that touch on the pair’s troubled dynamic. Anansa recalls how hurt she felt when, as a teenager, she caught her mother mocking her weight behind her back. She also tells the story of how Beverly, upon seeing Ava for the first time, said “I was ugly like that when I was a baby.” It’s an uncomfortable moment to say the least.
Anansa tells the audience that she is determined to work things out with Beverly so that Ava will see them in their “best light.” It’s straight out of the Oprah playbook and I wouldn’t be surprised if Dr. Phil makes a surprise visit, but at least it’s an admirable goal. That’s not to say that playing out relationship dramas on unscripted television is wholly without other agendas—by episode two Beverly manages to plug her line of wigs.
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The first scene of the new ABC series “Scandal” opens with a woman meeting a man in a bar:
Woman: I can’t stay. I don’t do blind dates.
Man: It’s not a blind date.
Woman: I can’t stay. I don’t do blind dates.
Man: It’s not a blind date. It’s a job interview.
Woman: What do mean this is a job interview?
Man: This is a job interview.
Woman: I didn’t apply for a job with you.
Man: You did.
Woman: I didn’t.
Man: You did…
Man: Ask me who I work for. You really want to ask me who I work for.
Woman: Fine. Who do you work for?
Man: Olivia Pope.
Woman: Olivia Pope. The Olivia Pope?…
He tells her that people who work for Olivia Pope are “gladiators in suits” and does she want to be a gladiator in a suit? Awe struck, she slowly repeats that yes, she wants to be a gladiator in a suit.
Now go back and read the scene again as fast as you can and you’ll get the idea of the pace of this show. Taking a page from Aaron Sorkin, who made rapid fire exchanges with repeating phrases a signature of “The West Wing,” creator Shonda Rhimes (“Grey’s Anatomy,” “Private Practice”) uses the opening dialogue of “Scandal” for tempo and for a tease. Namely, who is Olivia Pope?
Pope (Kerry Washington) is a lawyer turned crisis manager who used to work for the president but now “fixes things” for private clients. She’s smart, confident, connected and works by trusting her gut which we are told more than once is never wrong. Her employees worship her with lines like: “Olivia’s not one of the good guys. She’s the best guy” and “She wears the white hat.” Despite these lines and plots that don’t stray too far from Rhimes’ comfort zone of clever people doing clever things, I found myself wanting to see more of Olivia. Washington, with her deliberate enunciation gives the character appealing swagger and in an interesting set-up, the first three episodes develop a storyline that threatens to crack Olivia’s seemingly indestructible armor.
With “Scandal,” Rhimes also treads familiar territory with her characters. If you’ve watched “Grey’s Anatomy,” you’ll recognize her stock character of the “rookie” who is high strung, tries really hard to make a good impression and somehow stumbles into a life changing moment. But what Rhimes does well here is leave doctors behind for lawyers and politicians without the lengthy courtroom scenes, police investigations or policy discussions typical of other dramas that deal in these subjects. Instead, she gives us a strong woman who is political but not a politician. She cleans up messy situations for members of Washington’s powerful elite without getting dirty. It’s idealistic and perhaps unrealistic but who wouldn’t want a gladiator fighting for them? Particularly when they wear a white suit as well as Pope.
“Scandal” premieres on Thursday, April 5 at 10/9c.
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If television has taught us anything about female friendships it’s that they’re often sweet on the outside and tart on the inside (“Real Housewives” anyone?). ABC’s new comedy, the oddly titled “GCB,” plays off this idea with an added dose of religion and Texas swagger. Based on the book “Good Christian Bitches,” by Kim Gatlin, the ladies in this crowd of fictional Dallas housewives get the chance for some payback when the woman who bullied them in high school is forced by a set of unfortunate circumstances to move with her two teenage children back to her hometown. Broke and desperate, Amanda Vaughn (Leslie Bibb) returns to live with her mother, a wealthy Dallas socialite and quickly discovers that you can go home again but not everyone may be happy to see you.
Kristin Chenoweth, plays Carlene Cockburn, the leader of the group of women who were bullied by Amanda in high school. Carlene, now an influential member of society and her church, uses her pious reputation to mask her schemes to get back at Amanda. But Amanda, despite being remorseful about her past and determined to start over on good terms with the women, is no pushover. For every slight humiliation that Carlene and the other women engineer, Amanda returns the favor. This back and forth plotting would quickly grow tiresome if the characters weren’t equal parts likeable and unlikeable. When Carlene and her partners in crime, Cricket (Miriam Shor) and Heather (Marisol Nichols), tell stories about Amanda’s cruelty toward them as teenagers, you don’t feel so bad when they plan something to embarrass her. At the same time, the ladies’ insecurity, pettiness and refusal to forgive and forget means that you don’t feel so bad when Amanda beats them at their own game.
The other aspect of Amanda’s life that makes her sympathetic is that her mother drives her a little crazy. Played by the charming Annie Potts, Gigi is a Dallas society matron and sees her daughter’s return as a chance to reintroduce Amanda to the privileged life she rejected. Amanda, on the other hand, sees her mother’s mostly funny attempts to help her as an unwelcome reminder of the controlling nature she tried to escape.
The comedy of “GCB,” Miriam Shor in particular, has some great moments delivering caustic one-liners with subtle but hilarious facial expressions, is balanced with some solid dramatic moments. In one scene, Amanda’s daughter Laura, upset that her mother is interfering with her attempts to be accepted by the popular girls at school, tells her that she’s just trying to survive the system she created. It’s a sobering moment for Amanda and one that grounds the comedy in a small dose of reality.
At times, the series relies on stereotypes of Texans but it makes the point that hypocrisy is unattractive even when those hypocrites happen to look like the good Christian women that Carlene and her friends work so hard to appear to be. In less skillful hands, this message might seem heavy handed for a comedy but for the most part, these “GCB’s” make it work.
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So I have this idea for a business…Okay, not really but after watching “Shark Tank,” I’m inspired to think of something. The last time I was inspired by a television show I was watching an operation on “Boston Med” that was straight out of science fiction. On that show, a patient was getting a new face. On “Shark Tank,” the participants haven’t suffered the same level of loss but the stakes feel almost as high because they are also seeking something new. Or rather, something old. “Shark Tank” is all about achieving the American dream. In fact, it’s practically an exercise in American dream propaganda, so obvious is its reliance on this tenet of the national belief system. The surprising thing is, I’m buying the sales pitch. I’m all in. Money on the table. Even more surprising is that you should buy too.
The idea of the American dream isn’t as bright and shiny as it used to be. With the “one percent” a target of protest and communities suffering under the weight of widespread job loss, it’s difficult to embrace the notion that with hard work and determination anyone can achieve anything in America. Yet, here’s a television show that very transparently says the opposite. Here’s a television show that says: You have a chance to change your life because you worked hard and believed in yourself. It’s a simple and effective message that makes for a very entertaining hour of TV.
“Shark Tank” is not unique. Much of reality TV is about change. It’s reinvention through physical, psychological or economic transformation—fat to thin, single to married, ugly to beautiful. “Shark Tank,” at its most basic, is poor to rich. Hopeful entrepreneurs appear before a panel of “sharks,” or self-made multimillionaire investors, give a brief presentation and ask for money to develop their businesses. So in one way, the show’s appeal is the tense waiting period that may or may not have a big payoff.
There’s also an element of role play. As the sharks sit in judgment so do you as a viewer. You might not know what p.o.p. means or care about valuations and costs per unit. You might roll your eyes when the sharks call each other names but the panel/presentation format means that they are not the only ones who get to evaluate the participants.
The show’s simple format is also appealing because it allows for vulnerability and immediacy. Unlike shows that give participants an entire season to lose weight or win a cash prize or land a job, “Shark Tank” gives its contestants about 10 minutes. In that time, they have to be articulate, informed, confident and persuasive but no matter how polished or rough their pitch, they all have one thing in common: unwavering hope. You might not like their idea. You might not like them. But it’s hard not to admire their self-belief.
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Is a television show “quality” because it has narrative complexity and psychological realism? Or is quality more about challenging, confronting and provoking the audience? Pay networks like to market themselves as the home of quality TV and certainly shows including “The Sopranos” or more recently “Homeland” would make the grade for most people. Rarely, would a reality TV series be considered. So what I’m about to argue may be surprising: “Bering Sea Gold” is a quality show and one you should be watching.
The quality of Discovery Channel’s “Bering Sea Gold” lies in its ability to document the drive, desire, ambition, anger, desperation and joy involved in a dangerous and fascinating occupation in a way that captures both the complexities of relationships and the hardships of making a living when everything is at stake.
The men and women featured on the show risk their lives dredging the bottom of the waters off Nome, Alaska for gold. Similar to “Deadliest Catch,” the show about Alaskan crab fisherman, this latest addition to what cable networks prefer to call “docuseries,” focuses on several boat crews. Here, gold replaces crustaceans while hoses and sluice machines replace steel cages and holding tanks. The boats are smaller and most are hand-built but the drama is just as intense.
With little space on deck, two and three person crews take turns slipping into thick wet suits attached to air and hot water (to prevent hypothermia) before diving into the freezing sea. They work for hours wrangling a hose that sucks the ocean floor topside into a sluice machine that separates the gold flakes from rocks and sand. Along with the small boat operators is one larger crew who work from a big dredge ship where the owner, an experienced land gold miner, has ingeniously attached a backhoe to the deck. It digs buckets of ocean dirt and swings them to the sluice, thereby eliminating the need for divers. But whether they are large or small, the crews are tested by the weather, machinery failures and physical and mental exhaustion.
When the action returns to shore, the dredgers must carefully sift and dry their gold haul and prepare it to be weighed. More flakes than nuggets, it looks like glitter in glass vials but with gold selling at an all time high, ounces of this glitter are worth thousands of dollars.
The three month summer mining season means the dredgers have a brief window to make money. For those who are in serious debt, finding gold will literally save them from financial ruin. With stakes this high, you can’t help but empathize with their situation. In terms of what makes a show quality television, perhaps this is the characteristic that matters most.
“Bering Sea Gold” is on Friday on Discovery Channel at 10pm E/P.
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“Jane By Design” is the latest offering in the “being a teenager is hard” genre. On this ABC Family show, Jane Quimby (Erica Dasher) finds it tough because at her high school, she is a social and romantic outcast. This means that: 1) She is likely to embarrass herself by saying the wrong thing. 2) She is the target of the popular girl in school. 3) She pines away for a boy who she thinks is out of her league. But Jane has a secret. She is also an executive assistant working her fashion dream job. The tension is waiting to see how long Jane can balance her double life before it all falls apart. The problem is that it’s not all that tense. “Jane By Design” doesn’t need to be gritty, but it does need a premise where there’s more at stake than a teenager losing her secret dream job.
Jane, a budding fashion designer, works for the cold and demanding Gray (Andie MacDowell). Watching MacDowell’s icy stares and dismissive delivery, it’s hard not to compare her performance to the much superior one delivered by Meryl Streep in “The Devil Wears Prada.” Unlike Meryl’s Miranda Priestly character, Gray is one dimensional and predictable. In the first few episodes she appears on a TV screen in her office, communicating with Jane from the road. This is supposed to make her intimidating but it just makes you wonder how she keeps her job when she’s never in the office. Gray’s former assistant India (India de Beaufort) wants Gray’s job and is jealous of Jane. India’s attempts to get Jane fired make up most of the “work” story lines of the show. So Jane’s adventures at the office mainly consist of running around trying to put right whatever India has made to go wrong. It works out for Jane because she has pluck and determination and a best friend, Billy (Nick Roux), who helps her fix things.
Billy is also a social outcast and the only one who knows about Jane’s undercover life. Billy would not be out of place on a male version of “America’s Next Top Model,” so it’s hard to imagine that he has no friends. He does however, have a secret girlfriend who is beautiful and popular and the one who gives Jane a hard time. Jane, by the way, looks like a version of the actress Anne Hathaway. So again, it’s difficult to believe that high school life would be that hard for her. But somehow, it is and Jane and Billy spend a lot of time commiserating.
So to recap, Jane is a beautiful, talented, smart high school student who wears great clothes and shoes and who works part-time at her dream job in high fashion. Her biggest worry is pleasing her demanding boss. Her gorgeous best friend will do anything for her. Like I said. Being a teenager is hard.
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I’ll admit it. I’ve missed the blood. After watching “Spartacus:Blood and Sand” and its prequel: “Spartacus: Gods of the Arena”, with all their over the top scenes of bodily fluids spurting from severed limbs, I started to imagine that other series could benefit from cartoon violence. Take “Glee,” for instance. What if Sue Sylvester replaced her insults of Will Schuester with a gladiator style match-up in the school parking lot?
In a past review, I’ve argued that one of the strengths of the “Spartacus” franchise is its ability to push the boundaries of what is considered acceptable viewing. But now that it has done that over one season and a prequel, has it lost its impact? As much as I had missed the series’ assault to my senses, I was skeptical that season two could surprise me. I mean really, how many times can I watch a severed head flying off a fallen gladiator in slow motion before it stops being shocking? Then season two started and it’s just as much of a crazy, thrilling, ridiculous ride as the first one. Swords are thrust through every body part you can imagine. The sex scenes deserve an R rating. But “Spartacus: Vengeance” is more than the sum of its violent parts. At its heart, it’s the story of one man fighting for the basic human right to be treated equally. Wrapped around this theme are smaller conflicts. This season there is a quest to find a lost love, a battle to secure power and position and a scheme to seek revenge for a horrific loss.
When we last saw the famous gladiator, he had left the house of his master Batiatus literally bathed in blood. Season two picks up with the aftermath of Spartacus’ revolt. (Liam McIntyre plays Spartacus, replacing the late Andy Whitfield). The citizens of Capua live in fear of the escaped gladiators who have retreated to the shadows of the city, emerging to take what they want and to fight those seeking to destroy them. Rome sends ambitious official Gaius Claudius Glaber (Craig Parker) to hunt them. After a tragic event, Spartacus realizes that he must build an army to fight his enemies so he heads south with his men, freeing every slave he finds and urging them to join him. He quickly realizes the challenges that come with being a leader. Inexperienced slaves must be trained to fight and gladiators with other agendas must be brought in line. This new role for the character expands his quest beyond the need for personal revenge so that there’s more at stake for the rebel gladiator than just escaping his slavery.
If you’ve dismissed this series for its over the top sex and violence, keep an open mind, see the violence for what it is—equal parts cartoonish and challenging—and lose yourself in the journey of one man’s fight to make his mark on the world.
“Spartacus: Vengeance” is on Fridays at 10pm ET/PT on Starz.
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In season two of “Downton Abbey,” we rejoin the Crawley household in the midst of World War I. If you haven’t been watching this Emmy award winning British drama series, the crisis that sets it in motion is one of inheritance. It is the late Edwardian era (1916-1919) and the vast estate of Downton Abbey, the country home of Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham (Hugh Bonneville) must go to a male heir. Since the Earl has three daughters, his eldest, Mary (Michelle Dockery), is set to wed a distant relative on the Crawley side. But the prospective groom goes down with the Titanic, throwing the succession plan into crisis. They find a solution in cousin Matthew (Dan Stevens), who is recruited for the job of heir and husband to Mary.
As a family of immense wealth, the Crawley’s have a loyal staff of maids and butlers who live “downstairs” on the lower floors of the house. Some are honorable, others are manipulative and a few provide comic relief. The upstairs/downstairs set-up allows for multiple stories to be told so there are the trials and tribulations of the maids and butlers and the dramas and crises of the Crawley’s. But their stories also intersect which has the effect of dissolving class distinctions (if only temporarily) and promoting the idea that despite the social gap between the occupants, the household is a family.
When the second season starts, the collective Downton family feels the impact of war as the conflict brings worry and change to the household. Matthew is at the front along with likeable servant William (Thomas Howes). The estate, as much of a character as the people in this period drama, is also changed when several of its grand rooms are converted into convalescent spaces for soldiers.
With their house a makeshift military hospital, the family and its servants look inward this season. Some gain a new perspective and others, a new purpose. The series addresses themes of rigid social and gender roles and suggests that despite differences dictated by birth and demanded by duty, people share the same highs and lows. It is about equality among the seemingly unequal.
But at its core, “Downton Abbey” is a soap opera and it’s good in the ways that soap operas are good—by depicting various crises, schemes and manipulations that in one way or another, are related to star crossed love affairs. Whether it’s the will they or won’t they relationship between Mary and Matthew, the dangerous flirtation between the youngest Crawley daughter Sybil (Jessica Brown-Findlay) and the chauffeur or the seemingly doomed love between head housemaid Anna (Joanne Froggatt) and valet Mr. Bates (Brendan Coyle), this series is all about the heart. The characters’ ill advised relationships and passionate longings, whether they take place in ornate rooms or sparse servants’ quarters, connect them both to each other and to the universal idea that everyone wants to be loved.
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“Work It” is a new “high concept” situation comedy from ABC. “High concept” means the opposite of what it sounds like. It’s not an idea that is complex or high brow. Rather, it describes a concept that can be easily and appealingly communicated in a few words or one sentence. The high concept for “Work It” would be something like: “Two unemployed men dress as women to find jobs.” It’s a potentially funny premise that was successful (in a slightly different version) for Tom Hanks and Peter Scolari on “Bosom Buddies” from 1980-1982. Three decades later men dressing as women is still high concept but “Work It” is not making it work.
Lee Standish (Ben Koldyke), a former top salesman has been unemployed for a year. After he overhears that a pharmaceutical company is hiring female sales staff, he impersonates a woman and is hired when he shows impressive knowledge of the company’s products. His best friend Angel Ortiz (Amaury Nolasco) also gets a job at the company. But Lee is a guy’s guy which means that he and his friends make lame jokes about women and the chore of having to have sex that involves “cuddling” and “listening.” When he wants to celebrate his new job he offers to take his wife to the local bar to have a beer with his friends. She says no and he announces that he’ll wake her for sex when he gets home. So Lee is insensitive and clueless. This set-up is deliberate because Lee and Angel, now forced to live their work lives as women, will learn things to help them be better men.
I might be able to get through the silly weekly gender lesson if “Work It” moved past predictable jokes and seen it all before characterizations of women. Then again, probably not because “Work It” is not fun or funny. In the Pilot, Lee has lunch with his female colleagues and whips out a giant sandwich. Seeing his co-workers horrified expressions, he throws the sandwich away but not before removing once lettuce leaf and happily devouring it. Get it? Women don’t eat! The characterizations of Lee’s colleagues are equally unoriginal. They include a blonde, flighty woman who (surprise!) likes to party, a socially awkward woman who is needy and insecure and an icy, ambitious “mean girl.” There’s also a montage of Lee trying on his wife’s clothes, make-up and shoes and figuring out what to do with his man parts. A visit to a make-up counter and an ace bandage solve his problems.
“Work It” undoubtedly sees itself as a timely and humorous commentary on the current economic climate. Times are tough. Jobs are scarce. What if you had to dress as the opposite sex to find a job? This is Lee and Angel’s dilemma and it’s not an uninteresting question but if the show wants viewers to care about and laugh at the answer it needs to give it without recycling sexist comedy.
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When you write about television, the end of the year means looking back and yes, making “best of” and “worst of” lists. This year had some big highs: “Game of Thrones,” Bryan Cranston’s outstanding performance as Walter White on “Breaking Bad” (more on that next week), any scene on “Good Wife” featuring Eli Gold, the end (finally!) of Kate Gosselin’s fifteen minutes of fame and some bigger lows: Tim Allen’s disappointing return to series TV, the entire last season of “Entourage,” killing off TV’s best husband on “The Big C” (I’m still trying to forgive you Showtime).
But for part one of this year’s list, I want to focus on characters that drove me crazy because frankly, I need to vent. This is not a list of “love to hate them” characters like the delightfully vicious Victoria Grayson (Madeleine Stowe) on “Revenge.” This is a catalog of the characters that I really, actually hate. The ones who annoy me to the point that upon seeing them in a scene, I swear that I will abandon the show forever.
Declan Porter (Connor Paolo), “Revenge.” Where do I start? Maybe with the cliché chip on the shoulder/son of a regular guy/dating a rich girl thing. In the over the top, bubbly Dom Perignon world that is “Revenge,” Declan is skim milk. Here’s hoping season two finds him leaving to seek his fortune. I’d also accept him stealing his brother’s boat and sailing away to wherever it is that bad TV characters go never to be heard from again.
The tension on “The X-Factor.” Okay, I know this is a reality show and the bickering between Simon Cowell and L.A. Reid and Nicole Scherzinger wasn’t technically a character but it might as well have been for as much as it appeared at the judges’ table. Their criticism turned into an ego contest and a not so subtle attempt to create drama. Cowell has made a career out of being prickly but the snide comments and eye-rolling between him and Reid and Scherzinger was a distraction solved only by the DVR’s fast forward button.
Dr. Max Bergman (Masi Oka), “Hawaii Five-O.” This character is just puzzling. Here’s my problem. Max. Speaks. Like. This. All. The. Time. His clipped pronunciation with varying degrees of slowing down and speeding up words is meant to be, um, fun? If an actor is going to impersonate the now routine eccentric coroner character, please see Ducky on “NCIS.” Otherwise, Please. Stop. Now.
The ex-husbands on “I Hate My Teenage Daughter.” This one is simple. They enter a scene, drop a one-liner and exit. The one liners are not funny.
Carol Peletier (Melissa McBride), “The Walking Dead.” Sophia’s mom did chores (chores!) and got weepy while other characters risked their lives to search for her young daughter in a world of killer zombies. I was rooting for the undead. Seriously.
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I like reality shows that feature creative people competing against one another. It doesn’t matter if it’s chefs, fashion designers, or interior decorators. I’m always impressed when an amateur cook can take a protein and a starch and turn it into a stunning meal. I love when a decorator creates a warm room from an empty space and a designer cuts and sews a few meters of fabric into an actual piece of clothing. Because this is reality TV, all these transformations have to happen in a short amount of time so the idea that they happen at all always feels a little magical.
Creative thinking is an interior process but what reality shows that feature creative industries do is include the viewer in the action of imagining. This demystifies artistic fields. After witnessing the process of making fabric or food or a space come to life, the transformation, while still impressive, is less mysterious and therefore less foreign to our life experience. The one area where this may not be the case is art. For many people, contemporary and abstract art is inaccessible. Its often conceptual nature is sometimes difficult to embrace. “Work of Art: The Next Great Artist” works hard to change this.
Now in its second season, the series is a competition among artists who work in different mediums. Their challenges have included depicting the idea of motion, turning kitsch objects into high value art, creating a piece based on a newspaper headline and transforming parts of a disassembled Fiat into something worth hanging in a gallery space. Similar to “Project Runway,” the series has a mentor who makes a studio visit to assess the artists’ work and expert judges.
The series also has its share of reality TV drama. There have been a few tears and lots of anxiety about finding a creative spark. Many of the contestants have interesting back stories that are shared through family photo montages. The stories are a deliberate and successful way to personalize the contestants, particularly those who come too close to the cliché of the tortured artist. When one starts to potentially lose the audience with her fascination with dark objects, she tells the story of getting in a car accident and what it has meant for her life and work. The story not only makes her relatable but gives her projects a new and perhaps more understandable dimension.
The show’s combination of imagination and reality makes it fun to watch. The judges don’t give critiques that require an art degree to understand while the host is as know for her quirky fashion choices as she is for her signature send-off line: “Your work of art didn’t work for us.” What does work for us as an audience is the series’ ability to bring art to the masses while including the masses in the process of creation and evaluation.
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One of the most powerful effects of media and television in particular, is its contribution to socialization processes. We become accustomed to characters when we see them over and over on TV and they enter our consciousness in specific ways. Since the fall of the Soviet Union, the attacks of September 11 and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, TV’s Muslims have more often than not entered our consciousness as enemies of the West. On series television, there are very few representations of Muslim characters that don’t have sinister intentions or aren’t caught up in terrorist plots. On shows including “24,” “NCIS” and “Sleeper Cell,” Muslim characters are more likely to commit an act of violence while Islam is often depicted as a challenge to Western values and a threat to the West’s economic and political interests. “All American Muslim,” a new reality show on TLC, offers its own challenge by trying to give television viewers a new perspective.
Featuring five families living in Dearborn, Michigan, the city with the most concentrated community of Arabs outside the Middle East, “All American Muslim” wants to shift the distorted television representations of Muslim men and women. The participants include a football coach, a deputy sheriff, an event planner and a respiratory therapist. Footage of their lives is cut with a group discussion where several of the show’s participants give opinions on the episode’s themes. They form a sort of panel on issues ranging from adoption to drinking. These talks are meant to inform viewers on the finer points of Islam but also to invoke a sense of community diversity since the participants don’t always agree.
However, the show’s primary message, implicit in its title, is to demonstrate how the Muslim families of Dearborn, Michigan are the same as any other family living in America. Where the show is weakest is when it relies on symbols to relay its message. The football coach, the ambitious businesswoman and the woman who loves country music are depicted as examples of what it means to be “all-American” simply by their occupations and interests.
For the series to meet its goal of changing perceptions, it needs to allow these participants to move past symbolic patriotism and “I’m just like you because I love my family” testimonials. Sophisticated viewers interested in learning more about Islam and Muslim life will be disappointed with such simplistic representations. Where the show is strongest is when it recognizes that the idea of being “all-American” is an elusive one and what unites us is the small, shared struggles. In the first few episodes, it introduces one woman’s battle with infertility, generational differences between a daughter and her mother, the fight to be treated equally in business and the effort to fit into a family with traditions unlike your own. If it continues to elaborate on these issues, “All American Muslim” has a good opportunity to effect change.
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After a recent overseas trip, the 18 hour time difference meant that while most of you were probably sleeping I was awake watching infomercials on how to achieve a super model’s complexion and tone my abs with a series of bands and pulleys. I knew I was in trouble when I started to believe that I too could have Alyssa Milano hair if only I called and ordered the haircare system she was touting. So in an effort to stop being jet lag crazy and save myself money, I turned to the network websites where I hoped that watching a prime time repeat or two or six would put me to sleep. I settled into ABC’s “Boston Med,” a reality show that features the doctors and patients of three Boston area hospitals and the medical conditions that impact their lives. In my sleep deprived state I randomly chose an episode that I soon realized was about a face transplant. (Word of advice: Do not watch real medical procedures that involve removing faces as a sleep aide). While the episode didn’t help my insomnia, it did remind me that reality television has the potential to inspire.
I’m pretty sure most of you would agree that reality TV is rarely an inspiring experience. Sure, it can teach us things like avoiding the Jersey Shore and women who call themselves “real housewives”. It’s certainly entertaining. Who doesn’t like to watch a house or island full of competitive people play games where they scribble answers on index cards or figure out how to untie endless knots? We might even pick up new skills from our reality TV viewing—learning to fillet a whole salmon, managing a marketing campaign or making a shelter out of branches and leaves when stranded in a forest. But when was the last time a reality show made you think: I am proud to be part of this viewing experience?
What I took away from my late night viewing of doctors, nurses, patients and families is that reality television can defy belief and amaze us in ways that don’t involve shamelessness and stupidity. The journey of the face transplant patient, the donor’s family and the doctors and nurses involved in the life-altering procedure was filled with profound sadness, courage, skill and hope. The real doctors were more captivating than most actors who earnestly yell out medical phrases in a tense scene on “Grey’s Anatomy.” The families were more admirable and dignified than most reality TV participants who cry over a heartbreak or passionately argue why they shouldn’t be fired. The face transplant episode of “Boston Med” not only reminds us of the outstanding things of which we are capable but the level of storytelling that reality television is able to reach when it chooses. During the transplant, a nurse was watching from an outer room. She turns to her colleague and says: “I’m honored to be a part of this.” I thought: I’m honored to watch it.
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Re: The power of the gown.
Kim Kardashian’s recent divorce announcement after her 72 day marriage was an entertainment news bonanza. CNN’s “Showbiz Tonight” spent a long segment searching for “klues,” (Yes, they spelled it with a “k”) that the marriage was doomed before it began by going over scenes from E!’s “Keeping Up with the Kardashians.” The host argued that surely it was a sign when Kim and soon to be ex-husband Kris Humphries fought about changing her name, not to mention the time that sister Khloe warned her the relationship was moving too fast. I guess Kim missed the “klues.”
No matter what you think of the televised Kardashian wedding spectacular and its equally spectacular crash and burn, the media coverage it generated benefited from the powerful idea that a wedding is one day where a woman’s fantasies and dreams come true. This dream has a big platform in reality television shows that feature wedding planners, lavish weddings, budget weddings, weddings planned by grooms and most importantly, wedding dresses.
While the reception space, flowers and food are all part of the dream, the wedding dress is conceptualized as a once in a lifetime opportunity for a woman to be the absolute center of attention. For some, the fantasy dress is all about sequins or lace or chiffon. For the women on TLC’s “Say Yes to the Dress,” it’s all about buying a gown from Kleinfeld’s, a New York based bridal boutique.
“Say Yes to the Dress” follows brides to be through their Kleinfeld’s dress fittings. The behind the scenes style of the series, literally being given access to the dressing room of a bride, gives it voyeuristic appeal but why watch someone you don’t know try on wedding dresses? Part of the fun is the drama created by the personalities of the brides. There are demanding, know it all ones who swat away dresses like flies and flighty, indecisive ones who fear they may never, ever find their dream dress. The women come in all shapes and sizes and choose gowns that hug every curve or resemble floating cream puffs. Some spend thousands. Others spend tens of thousands. Judging the women’s choices is a big part of the viewing experience. There are plenty of: “What is she thinking?” and “That dress costs how much?” moments.
The show’s true appeal however, lies in the transformative power of the gown. There’s no makeover element so the reveal is all about the power the women on the show and the viewer give to the white dress. The client enters the dressing room as a regular woman but exits it as BRIDE. No flowers, cake or groom required. For that moment it’s all about her and whether we approve of her dress choice or not, we celebrate along with her. In that hour we take part in the fantasy and sometimes, the television version is better than real life. Just ask Kim.
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Re: It’s the thought that counts.
Most medical shows are all about doctor drama. Sure, there are the quirky patients who provide comic relief and the brain tumor/high-risk pregnancy/child with cancer patients who pack an emotional punch. But mostly, series including “House,” “Grey’s Anatomy,” “Private Practice,” “Hart of Dixie,” “Nurse Jackie” and “Royal Pains” focus on relationships between doctors, nurses and patients. It’s a successful formula because it applies universal themes of life, death, love, hate, power and weakness to a profession we have all experienced, making it feel relatable. It’s television’s way of saying, “Doctors are people too.”
That’s not to say that television’s doctors are well-rounded people. They are often egotistical and narcissistic. Michael Holt, the latest addition to TV’s doctor roster, is no exception. Played by Patrick Wilson, Holt is a talented and successful surgeon who treats wealthy clients in his privately owned medical facility. He is focused, ambitious and direct. His suits are beautifully tailored, his apartment is tastefully modern, he drinks a health shake every morning — handed to him by his efficient personal assistant Rita (Margo Martindale) as soon as he steps off the elevator to his office. Holt is a typical over-achieving doctor character. Then he has dinner with his ex-wife Anna, who happens to be dead.
Anna (Jennifer Ehle) dies when she gets hit by a car, a fact Holt learns when he calls her office the day after their dinner. Her ghostly introduction is meant to play on the idea of a man who is “gifted” in more ways than being a skillful surgeon but all it really does is add a distracting gimmick to a predictable medical drama. Anna’s appearances lead Holt to get involved with the low-income family clinic she ran before her death. These relationships, unsurprisingly, make him slowly start to question his life of detached privilege. He does his best to resist helping but somehow manages to save a disadvantaged child or working class patient with no insurance while also performing amazing surgical feats on his primary clients. The only drama is guessing how many episodes it will take before he fails to maintain the balance and a patient suffers for it.
While there is nothing wrong with injecting a unique angle into a familiar genre, it needs to serve the story in a creative and satisfying way. “House” does this brilliantly with its science fiction take on medical cases but more importantly, with a drug addicted, mostly unsympathetic main character. “Hart of Dixie” and “Royal Pains” are fish out of water stories. “Grey’s Anatomy” is basically a romance novel set in a hospital. Each show adds a small twist that mostly enhances rather than distracts from its primary patient/doctor narrative. Despite the possibilities that a ghost might bring to a story, in the case of “A Gifted Man,” it’s not a gift to see dead people.
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Melissa Crawley credits her love of all things small screen to her parents, who never used the line, "Or no TV!" as a punishment. Her book, "Mr. Sorkin Goes to Washington: Shaping the President on Television's 'The West Wing,'" was published in 2006. She has a PhD in media studies. To comment on Stay Tuned, email her at staytuned2011@hotmail.com or follow her on Twitter: @MelissaCrawley.
