When I say culling, I'm not referring to us cutting back on shows. Don't be ridiculous. We're so far behind on most shows that we're following that it is tempting, but it's not going to happen any time soon, because I hate to give up on anything. Of course, I'm actually referring to that awful time of year when the networks pass judgement on the underperforming programmes on their rosters, slicing out much-loved cult faves and giving the kiss-of-life to some real oddities that no one is really passionate about. Hollywood Reporter has a report on the status of many shows here (this information is arranged in a more pleasing list format by Herc in this AICN Coaxial post), and it contains good and bad news, as ever.
Most upsetting is the unequivocal cancellation of Reaper, which has improved by leaps and bounds this year. Having shaken off first season nerves, the showrunners and performers have allowed more oddness and format-shaking looseness in, with some episodes doing away with the ponderous soul-hunting stuff in the cold open in order to follow the protagonists as they bumble along in their super-amiable way, and others just running with gags that would never have occurred last year. In a recent, very entertaining episode, more time was expended upon Sock (seeking chemical castration to prevent his lust for his step-sister) and Sam (dealing with his zombie dad's attempts to bond with him) than was spent on what would once have been considered the A plot, which was just fine by us. Nevertheless, that burst of energy came too late to save it. Sam, Sock and Ben (and Ray Wise, of course) will be missed.
The woeful state of Jerry Bruckheimer's roster of shows surprises me. While the CSI franchise is not going anywhere (especially now that the original series is on such consistently great form, courtesy of Morpheus), Without A Trace and Cold Case look like they're in trouble, with one of them probably cancelled. I get that this is due to the financial pressures of running both shows, but they always seemed like they'd be around forever, like bigotry and flatulence. I say that despite the fact that I watch neither of them and have exactly zero interest in them.
I'm much less surprised that Eleventh Hour is facing doom. It's only just started airing in the UK, on Living (which means watching it exposes me to endless adverts for Grey's Anatomy; a seriously nauseating experience, especially with Kevin "Journeyman" McKidd popping up every couple of seconds to remind me of our favourite recently cancelled series). A less apt channel I cannot imagine, as Eleventh Hour has yet to display a pulse. Is this the most boring show on TV? Yes, despite the insistence of the ever-present Clicking Clock Of Teh Doom, it's much less silly than Fringe, but it's not like it gets the science right even in such unambitious circumstances, so it hasn't even got that going for it.
At least Fringe, while being full of risible science, is not ashamed to forget about realism and just go all out, showing us people turning into rampaging porcupine monsters, or macrophages that burst out of your mouth and crush your windpipe on the way out, or teleportation devices that are just fucking wicked cool and if you don't agree then I'll never love you. Eleventh Hour, on the other hand, is sober but utterly joyless. It also features a lot of googly-oogly eyes, as Rufus Sewell and Marley Shelton have intense ocular orbs that scare the piss out of me. Not for much longer, though. Farewell, Dr. Hood and Thingy Gunbabe. I hardly knew you or cared.
Two other shows I don't watch are Num3e7501019 or whatever the hell it's "called", and The Unit, pictured above (that's First African American President David Palmer carrying what looks like a life doll for people with a fetish for deli-shop owners). While Numbronics has a few fun character actors on it, I cannot understand how a procedural about numbercrunching has managed to last for five seasons, and is likely to come back for another. I saw the first three episodes, and tuned out because I couldn't see how the concept could sustain itself. And yet there it is, running even longer than the similarly restrictive Bones (though of course the charm of that show, apparently, is the chemistry between Boreanaz and Deschanel). What happened to the Numberation format to make it run this long? Was I wrong to drop it? (This is a rhetorical question; I'm not going back to it no matter what I hear.) Maybe a long-running character will turn out to be a serial killer, to the delight of its many fans. Or am I thinking of another show?
In contrast, the possible cancellation of The Unit saddens me despite my utter ignorance of it. Why? Because this year creator Shawn Ryan treated TV watchers to one of the classic seasons of one of the greatest shows ever created. The final season of The Shield was a nerve-destroying tour de force, and to think he's lost one show (on a high) and then maybe lost the other one without fair warning makes me unhappy on his behalf. For providing us with such a thrilling conclusion to The Shield, he should win awards, not get thrown off TV with such disregard. Fingers crossed that, if worst comes to worst, he can come up with another show as great as The Vic Mackey Glower Hour (twice as thrilling as The Jack Bauer Power Hour, even on a good day, tension fans!).
After a whole season of speculation about being dropped by Fox, it looks like Terminator: The Needlessly Long Title Involving The Important-Sounding Word "Chronicles" is finally being cancelled. That, and Dollhouse, have suffered the fate of Friday Night Lights; running to overtake the expectation of imminent extinction. While FNL has, happily, been renewed for two more seasons, T:TSCC is not going to be so lucky. Perhaps Fox only really needed it to dilute the impact of the upcoming film in order to damage its box office chances, if their behaviour over Watchmen is anything to go by. Ironically, even though I was enthusiastic about T:TSCC when I saw the pilot, I only watched one more episode. Of course Torchwood, which I was comparing it to, got worse than even I could imagine, and yet I watched it all the way through to the hysterical end. What's up with that?
Surprisingly, Dollhouse might make it to a second season, which would probably be surrounded with even more chatter about cancellation. The only thing people have linked to Dollhouse more than those early, awful episodes is the expectation that it will not last. While once that was irksome, it's a testament to the quantum leap in quality from the sixth episode on that cancellation would now be a tragedy (in terms of TV show potential, not actual real tragedy). The last two weeks have provided more brain food than any other show on TV that isn't set on a mysterious island. As long as Dollhouse 2.0 is allowed to continue to explore the distortion of the moral norm caused by Dollhouse tech and not just have the ever-unappealing Dushku wandering around in bondage gear prior to some poorly edited fighting, a second season would be welcomed with fireworks and Bacchanalian parties (and, sadly, a flurry of woeful fanfic). If the show is not going to play to its intellectual strengths (yeah, I said it), why bother giving it another chance?
As I said earlier, we're inundated with shows, even more so now that In Treatment is back for two and a half hours a week, so maybe I should be glad Cupid is being axed. I never watched the original starring Jeremy "Mercury from The Metal Men" Piven, so I have very little awareness of what the show is like, but we're talking about a remake of a failed show, replacing the undeniably watchable Piven and the equally appealing Paula Marshall with Bobby Cannavale and Sarah Paulsen. I'm having trouble mustering enthusiasm for this, and now that it's been cancelled, that enthusiasm dims even more. If I do watch it, it'll be out of loyalty to the man who brought us Veronica Mars (though that wasn't enough to make me watch 90210).
Still, I can't imagine that it could be worse than Castle or The Unusuals. Despite the charmkrieg that is Nathan Fillion selling almost every shitty joke and laboured flirt-op (and proving he is indeed better, better than Neil, at so many things it's hard to conceal), everything else about it is to entertainment as formica is to wood. A lot of unimaginative shows feel like they are made by machines, but the machine that made this is constructed out of string and cardboard and powered by irradiated rats. Still, at least it's not The Unusuals. ABC's website made this sound like a drama featuring a bunch of unorthodox cops whose rarified skillsets allowed them to solve crimes no one else could. Canyon thought it was meant to be a straight-up comedy. That it satisfied neither of us is a sign something went haywire as soon as calloused fingers typed Fade In.
It's telling that, in the pilot, you see a clip of Bruce Weitz on TV in some kind of sitcom, as the show also felt a lot like Hill Street Blues, but this time with a team comprising nothing but the weirdos like Renko, Belker, and Buntz, but lacking the stable characters like Furillo, Coffey and Esterhaus. The first hour, directed with typical ineptitude by Stephen "The Reaping" Hopkins, was interminable, cutesy, unimaginative, uninvolving, edited into incoherence, cloying, drab, desperately quirky, and, most annoyingly, filled with terrific, wasted actors, like Jeremy Renner, Harold Perrineau and Terry Kinney. Such talented guys. Oh, and Adam Goldberg is in it too. Erm... ::tumbleweeds blow by::
So, if we lose that, no biggie. Better Off Ted, however, is just about the most lovable show on TV that isn't Reaper, and even if it's not as funny as 30 Rock, or as clever as The Office, it's still worth rooting for, especially as series creator Victor Fresco also gave us Andy Richter Controls The Universe, and I'd feel bad for the guy if he was responsible for two great sitcoms cut down in their prime. It has cemented our love of Portia DeRossi, who is just wonderful as the android-like Veronica Palmer, and has managed to satirise soulless corporate culture in such a non-abrasive manner that we almost love our monolithic overlords by the end of it. It's mild stuff, but compared to the laugh-void that is Parks and Recreation, it's Arrested Development meets Seinfeld. I've got my fingers crossed for it.
Sadly, I doubt anything can save my favourite new show, NBC's bonkers soap opera/religious fable/alternate-reality-curio Kings, which would be unmissable even if it was just 45 minutes of Ian "Swearengen" McShane walking around his "palace" muttering to himself, but manages to excel by featuring Ian "Swearengen" McShane walking around the city of Shiloh, capital city of the Kingdom of Gilboa, scheming against his foes (including Brian Bloody Cox!), railing against a preacher (played by Eamonn Bloody Walker!), and trying to predict what God wants of him in order to protect his eroding power base even when that makes him act against the interest of others. As with Dollhouse, no one expects it to make it to a second season, which is heartbreaking. In a season as dreary as this one (where the only other new shows worth following are the frustratingly erratic Fringe and the fluffy Mentalist) it's been a revelation. No matter how the other shows fare, knowing that the Sword of Nielsen Damocles hangs over such a promising head is enough to make me wonder why the hell I bother watching TV when ambition is so often rewarded with dismissal.
At the risk of sounding like a misery guts, the last two weeks have been dominated by a distracting real life situation that has made it hard for me to concentrate on blogging, an activity that usually demands a stillness of the mind that can only be taught by some red-robed monk hidden from the world in the mountains of Tibet. Right now, I couldn't feel less tranquil, and so I've felt like slacking off. However, my blogger licence will be revoked if I don't post something every so often, even if it's low on content. So, here are extraneous awards for excellence (or not-excellence) over the past year of TV.
Best New Characters Of The Year
5. Dermott Fictel - The Venture Brothers
Seemingly the long-lost son of Brock Samson (and a mother whose face is being kept from us for now), Dermott Fictel is belligerent, ignorant, overly confident, and generally the brattiest person on TV all year. So why like him so much? For pushing Brock's buttons, and for being one of the most perfectly realised teenagers ever created. I have known so many arrogant dicks like Dermott, who profess to know all about martial arts and army training, and not just during childhood. Jackson Publick and Doc Hammer kinda tortured me by creating this character, who so resembles some of my least favourite people, but they got him so right I couldn't help but delight in seeing that personality type shown up so totally. And then, just to really make me happy, had him get beaten up by weedy Dean Venture, of all people. Just beautiful.
4. Miles Straum - Lost
He's a jerk who is rude to everyone, and he talks to ghosts. What's not to love? Ken Leung is already known to all Sopranos fans, but as we've yet to see it, the only thing I knew him from was X-Men: The Last Stand, where he played Porcupine Man or something. No matter. Straum turned up and was immediately rude to everyone, and then, not long after, talked to a ghost. It was love at first sight. That his character is so enjoyable on a surface level is one thing, but the hints that he knows more about the island show promise much revelation and bitchery to come. Of course, the writers' strike robbed us of a season four Miles flashback, but even though I'm desperate to know more about him, it has added to his mystique.
3. Livia Beale- Journeyman
When we first see the supposedly dead Livia, she is surprisingly confident, intelligent, attractive but not overly sexualised, and emotionally compex. I say surprisingly, because all too often female characters on TV are underwritten compared to their male counterparts. Things have obviously improved (I can think of numerous examples now, whereas a few years ago I would have had trouble), but Journeyman was still in the minority. Moon Bloodgood, who before this had had an uninspiring IMDb resume that includes the character designations Maid, Stripper, and Gorgeous Woman, hinting that she was only being cast for her looks and not her talent, excelled herself as the mysterious Livia, who, it turns out, is not just a strong female character, but is a strong female character who actually exists in the 20s, which adds even more heft to her unshowy feminism. Her inspirational, no-nonsense wisdom and strength will be sorely missed now that the show is over.
2. Emerson Cod - Pushing Daisies
Though I would argue that the conceit of Pushing Daisies is dark enough that the tone of the show needs to be brighter than bright to offset it, it also needs a counter-corrective to make those sunshiney visuals and optimistically romantic plot tolerable. Luckily, Bryan Fuller struck gold by casting Chi McBride as ascerbic PI Emerson Cod, whose cynicism stands in stark contrast to the cutesy antics of Chuck and Ned. Though Cod's character is over-designed (knitting? Really?), McBride makes it all work beautifully. Taking into account his work on House and the adorable Roll Bounce, he's rapidly becoming one of my favourite actors.
1. Dr. Amber Volakis - House M.D.
The writers' strike made a mess of a lot of shows plans, saving some from imminent irrelevance (Heroes), and wrecking the momentum of others (Ugly Betty). Amber "Cutthroat Bitch" Volakis looked to have the most interesting arc of any of the characters on House, but losing a few episodes meant her transformation from calculating semi-mechanoid horrorshow to tragic saint almost didn't work the way it should, but the amazing Anne Dudek (and Robert Sean Leonard and Hugh Laurie as the men in her life) sold it with utter conviction. To start the season as a potential Gupta and end as our favourite character on the show is a notable achievement. We're still secretly depressed at how it all turned out. We miss you, Amber!
Guptas Of The Year
5. PC Andy - Torchwood
Bit of a fudge, this one. He was first seen in the Torchwood pilot and then vanished for a while before returning to crop up once or twice, hanging around Gwen like a bad Welsh smell. The fact that he has little to do other than bug Gwen about Torchwood, as well as the irksome unfinished name, are enough to get on this list. A character as glib and underwritten as this probably has legions of squeeing fans ("OMG PC Andy was so great when he said very little tonight I HEART HIM!"), as that is what fandom does (such as the mystifying cult that sprung up around Deputy Sacks from Veronica Mars). That kind of thinking is not alien to me, I guess. I remember thinking Miles O'Brien was the nuts on Star Trek: The Next Generation when he had very little to do other than energize. That PC Andy's role is being expanded does not bode well. Even now, he sure isn't a Miles O'Brien (who became the best non-Sisko thing about DS9). Still, maybe he'll get a surname now.
4. West - Heroes
What can I say about West? Seriously, what can I say? I totally tuned out while he was onscreen. How about this. West! Your power is boring and you are no kind of romantic hero. Plus, that flying-your-girlfriend-around trick has been done before. Consider how classy Claire Bennett is that she didn't come up with a crappy poem about reading minds while you did it. She's too good for you. Beside, you have the same power her dad Nathan Petrelli does, so you trying to get into Claire's pants is, on some level, almost incestuous. That she would fall for someone who is like her dad is one thing, in an Elektra complex kinda way, but you're no Adrian Pasdar. Plus, you are named after a direction. Fly away, sad little meta-emo!
3. Juliet Darling - Dirty Sexy Money
Creating a character who is just like Paris Hilton, except openly bitchy and shouty, has to be the dumbest move the Dirty Sexy Money showrunners made. Who, other than that unpleasant fame-ho Perez Hilton, actually likes Paris Hilton enough to see a fictionalised version of her, and, even worse, on a show featuring venerable actors Donald Sutherland and Jill Clayburgh? I guess Samaire Armstrong managed to capture Paris' persona well enough, but accuracy does not change the fact that having to endure this shallow jerk week after week was an unendurable trial. Real life events meant she's not on the show anymore, but it's not like it's in tip top health without her. Natalie Zea, Seth Gabel, and Glenn Fitzgerald are still on it, after all.
2. Lila Tournay/West - Dexter
Ah Lila, the deep and mysterious artist who is impulsive! And is deep! And unafraid of exhibiting her boobs because she is such a free spirit! And is a bit mysterious! And will teach life lessons to our anti-hero using her deep deepness, boobs, and impulsive nature! How life-affirming. And supremely annoying. Manic Pixie Dream Girls are intrinsically awful anyway, but Jaime Murray brings a bag of distracting acting tics and bizarre facial expressions to the plate just to make the character even more unlikeable. That she fits right in on this most frustrating of shows is not a compliment. Just like everyone else, she makes us shout "Oh shut up!" at the screen, except with more vehemence.
1. Morgan Grimes - Chuck
A lot of generic network shows tend to lead with a static and semi-boring main character, in order to maintain a format; too much change or unpredictability in that character would make the show and whatever gimmick/hook the show has unworkable from week to week. As a result it's the supporting cast that has the most colour and potential for drastic change. That's not a criticism, of course. That's just the way it works. I doubt many people would say Buffy was their favourite character on Buffy. For example, though I liked Buffy, I was always more invested in Willow and Giles.
However, if the supporting cast sucks, you're in trouble. While Buffy had a great sidekick in Willow, and Angel had Wesley (and Kirk had Spock, and Ryan had Seth, Gil Grissom has Catherine Willows, etc.), Chuck has Morgan, a comedy relief character whose shtick is, "I'm so pathetic yet so inordinately confident." That he is a stock character plunked into the sidekick slot without any effort expended to flesh him out at all is bad enough, and a perfect display of the formulaic and unimaginative nature of the show. What makes him the worst new character on TV is that Joshua Gomez' performance is a grab-bag of nerd tics borrowed from many other actors, none of which make him at all charming or likeable. His reflexively sarcastic line readings are like animal shrieking forced into my ears, and the beard, THE BEARD! OH GOD! It is making my TV screen cry and my eyes vomit!!! How bad is Morgan? Even his best friend, Chuck, seems utterly bored by him. Whether that's a deliberate choice or Zach Levy thinking "Shut up, loser!" all the time is unknown. There was a lot to hate about Chuck, but it was Gomez that made me stop watching. He was definitely the Gupta of the entire TV season. And now that I've ranted about it, I feel terrible. Sorry, Gomez!
Most Lovable Ensemble Cast of the Year:
Reaper
The list of best new characters is sadly incomplete, as it is lacking some Sock. In my defence, though he is easily my favourite character on that show, and I'm fully on the He-Is-A-Genius side of the Tyler Labine debate, choosing Sock would mean snubbing Bret Harrison as lovable lead character Sam (a perfect example of the less interesting lead and crazy "second-in-command" format I mentioned earlier), Rick Gonzalez as hapless but lovable Ben, Ken Marino and Michael Ian Black as lovable demons Tony and Steve, Christine Willes as duplicitous but lovable Gladys, Donavon Stinson as the horrible but lovable Ted, and Ray Wise as the best (and most lovable) Devil ever. The only weak characters in the cast are, sadly, the ladies, but I'll include Valarie Rae Miller due to my former crush on her in Dark Angel (even though she had the even more thankless role as Underwritten Token African-American Lesbian in that pile of cyber-doodie), and Missy Peregrym was finally given stuff to do by the end of the season, so she gets in too. It's possibly the most good-natured show on TV, even though it revolves around Satan, and it's all down to the astute casting decisions. I love all of them, and even when the writing is off, the actors make it all work.
Least Lovable Ensemble Cast of the Year:
Dexter
I've already dissed the entire bunch of grating chumps in another post, so I feel bad for repeating myself, but I could not care less about any of these jerkoffs, and they're not helped by performances that range from bland to bafflingly terrible. Only by the end of the season does Erik King as Doakes live up to his billing as nemesis of Dexter, and by then it's too late. I liked Julie Benz prior to Dexter, but here she is given so little to work with (this week: weak. Next week: strong. Rinse, repeat) that it's hard to watch her at times, especially when remembering how great she was during her final episodes on Angel. Jennifer Morrison and her Potty-Mouth of Grittiness (which has almost convinced us to turn the show off for good) is as one-note as Masuka's sexism, or Batista's feebleness, and LaGuerta is either a Macchiavellian genius or an idiot, depending on what direction the plot is heading that week. The whole lot could be dispatched by Dexter at any moment and I would rejoice. Shurely shome mishtake on the part of the showrunners.
Best Worst Character of the Year:
Peter Campbell - Mad Men
So weaselly he makes Vincent Kartheiser's previous role (Angel's weaselly son Connor) look like Conan of Cimmeria, Pete Campbell is a sheer delight. In every scene he makes some tetchy comment, cringe-inducing faux-pas, or unfunny quip, triggering embarrassment in all around. Since the end of the first season he has been dropped as Office Nemesis of Don Draper (and replaced by Duck Phillips), but that has meant he has become far more interesting and pitiful. Just like Ayn Rand's Peter Keating, the man has no idea who he is or what he wants to be, though he's perfectly willing to lie to himself and pretend to be what he thinks is a successful man. He's not yet figured out what Don has; that success on the terms of The Man do not automatically lead to happiness. He has also yet to grow up, retreating back to his childish ways as soon as his father dies. He's also far too eager to impress, unthinkingly callous, unfunny, and creepy. Watching him continually get things wrong and alienate those around him amuses us greatly. He's like Michael Scott, but a Michael Scott you couldn't care about even if you tried.
Most Wasted Character of the Year:
Monica Dawson - Heroes
Of all the new characters on Heroes, the one I felt most shortchanged by was Monica, played by Dana Davis. Her power (adoptive muscle memory) is unflashy but cool, and a staple of superhero comics (Taskmaster and Echo both have it too), and Monica herself was brave and likeable. After a long build-up and origin story, tapping into memories of the New Orleans Katrina disaster (which, if you were feeling uncharitable, might say did little to illuminate that tragedy and just seemed to add it to the show as a bit of topical flavour), we got to see Monica finally use her powers to help another and to further the plot in the penultimate episode. What happens? She gets caught like a punk, beaten up, trapped in a burning building, and then saved by Niki or Jessica or whoever she was at the time. Monica is being written out in the next season, so all of that was for nothing. Super-utter-lame. If I were Dana Davis, I'd be so pissed.
Most Wasted Actor Of The Year:
Keith Carradine - Dexter
Other than Michael C. Hall (and the odd appearance by the great James Remar), there is no performer on Dexter that doesn't set our teeth on edge, which is one of the reasons we've had so much trouble getting through it. Early in the second season, the introduction of Keith Carradine as serial killer hunter Frank Lundy gave me great hope of a transformation in the direction of the show, but for the most part he has been used as a device to fix Debra, still suffering from the psychic trauma inflicted by the Ice Truck Killer. Whenever he is onscreen, his calm and authoritative presence has been a great relief from the usual amateurish flappity-rargh performances, but he's not around long enough to make a real difference. As a result, Michael C. Hall is left to carry the show. Still, there are two good side-effects of Carradine's appearance. It inspired me to buy the recently re-released DVD of Alan Rudolph's glorious genre-hopping curio Trouble In Mind (featuring Carradine with a superb 'do), and his role as Dexter-antagonist is far more effective than the one-note bluster of Doakes, whose mode of expression can be described in two words: Blue Steel.
Best Couple of the Year:
Bill Adama and Laura Roslin - Battlestar Galactica
I was torn as to whether to choose Coach and Tami Taylor from Friday Night Lights (which is the obvious choice), or Marc and Cliff from Ugly Betty (though they have been sorely underused after their memorable first meeting), but instead I'm settling on the OAPs mature couple from Battlestar Galactica, not just because they're my two favourite characters on the show, and being together leads to an exponential increase in their awesomeness, but because they're not just cute together, but also horribly tragic. Coach and Tami are realistic, Marc and Cliff are adorable, but Bill and Laura are doomed, due to her cancer and Earth turning out to be a big bust after all of that fuss and palaver. With that horrible fate hanging over them, they need the support.
Best Guest Appearance of the Year:
Edie Falco - 30 Rock
Playing a wet liberal stereotype / Capulet to Alec Baldwin's aggressive conservative / Montague, Falco made a convincing case for a career in comedy, creating one of the most memorable and endearing additions to the supporting cast on 30 Rock, already the most impressive gallery of grotesques since Arrested Development. Don't believe me? The runner-up is David Schwimmer as Greenzo.
Worst Guest Appearance of the Year:
Eliza Dushku - Ugly Betty
Misunderstanding the tone of the show, as well as ignoring the dictum "Less is more", Dushku barreled through the dire episode Giving Up The Ghost as if possessed by Zero Mostel on amphetamines. Mercifully stopping short of winking at the camera, Dushku totally killed every feeble joke and situation deader than they already were, to the extent that I'm fairly certain her role in the show, as spoof celebrity Cameron Ashlock, was cut short when it was apparent Dushku has absolutely zero capacity for comedy (see also: Katey Sagal, who was dire on CSI this season). Let's hope Whedon gives the funny lines to the other Dolls in his forthcoming Dollhouse.
Runner Up:
Lucy Davis - Reaper
I feel terrible picking on Davis for this guest appearance (as semi-regular character Sara), but it was deeply depressing to see the formerly terrific actress get it so wrong in this. I don't blame her; it must have been toxic to have spent so long in the presence of Aaron Sorkin on Studio 60, and I'm sure his arrogance curdled the talent of everyone around him (we'll see what Sarah Paulson is like in the remake of Cupid soon enough). Another factor is the desperately awful character (English Green Card fraud leeching of the adorable Ben), but even so, her incoherent line readings and reflexively clenched jaw made her nigh-unwatchable. Can normal service be restored ASAP, please?
Best Bruce Lee Impression of the Year:
Mark Dacascos - The Middleman
Mark Dacascos' appearance as Sensei Ping (pron: Piiiiiiiiing) has amused me greatly this past week. It's the kind of silly joke that sticks in the head and brightens your day whenever you recall it. However, it's also a great impression of Bruce Lee in Enter The Dragon, whose onscreen persona has already been satirised relentlessly since his first appearance. Usually something like that would seem lazy but in The Middleman Dacascos is silly enough to make it work. The best touches are his abuse of Wendy whenever she does something wrong (his slaps are straight out of the opening scene of Dragon), and the kick attacks at the 0:56 mark of this fight scene...
...deliberately echo Lee's moves at the 7:30 mark of this clip.
Attention to detail like that is very welcome, as were the Man With Two Brains references littered throughout. (((((The Middleman)))))
Best Fight Scene of the Year:
Sayid vs. Keamy - Lost
Here's the whole scene including the unfortunate death of Omar, but the highlight comes at 3:49. Last year it was The Ankles Of Death, this year it's The Uppercut Of Awesome.
Uppercut that motherfucker, Sayid!
Badass of the Year:
SAYID!!! - Lost (aka The Sayid Jarrah Powah Howah)
Haven't you been paying attention? What's best is he'll kill with utmost dispassion, unless it's a woman he has fallen in love with, in which case he'll cry. Badassery at its most sentimental and awesome. Runner-Up: Stanley Hudson from The Office. Would you mess with him? Me either.
Most Peculiar Fight Equation Of The Year:
Sayid Jarrah = X Ben Linus = Y Keamy The Sailorman = Z
Z > X Y > Z ∴ Y > X
Ben could beat Sayid in a fight? Well, okay, Keamy had been stabbed and was taken by surprise, but still, we now know that if it came down to a fight between Ben and Sayid, Sayid would be toast. The mind boggles.
Most Missed Show of the Year:
Journeyman
I'm never getting over that cancellation. And neither is Moon Bloodgood.
Least Missed Show of the Year:
Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip
A happy year has been spent without Aarogant Sorkin's finger being wagged in my face, telling me I'm an idiot for watching TV and blogging about it (well, not me personally, but a lot of people in general). Come on in, united bloggers of the world, the schadenfreude is fine! Of course, his forthcoming movie about Facebook will almost certainly be filled with speeches about how isolated we have all become, so it's no clear sailing yet, but for a few months there, the only contact we had with him was Charlie Wilson's War, which was lots of fun, even though at one point Charlie Wilson was featured STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF AFGHANISTAN, which could have derailed everything.
Best Show We Didn't Watch:
The Shield
We've not yet seen the most recently aired season of The Shield, having only watched the pilot a couple of months ago (I'd seen it years ago and loved it, but Canyon had yet to experience it). In the time since, we've raced through the first four seasons, and yesterday we started the fifth, featuring the arrival of Lt. Jon Kavanaugh with all of his unnerving Forest-Whitakerian tics. We're already expecting to do nothing but focus on this for the rest of the week. The sixth season didn't even really figure in the timeframe for this round of Caruso Awards, but even so, we've fallen so completely under its spell that I have to mention it somehow. Again and again we're told that this show doesn't hold a candle to The Wire (which we plan to watch eventually), but if The Wire really is exponentially greater than The Shield as we have been told over and over again, it will probably fry our synapses, boil our blood, and vaporise our house. The Shield is already absolutely amazing, easily one of the best shows of the new TV Golden Age, up there with Deadwood, Lost, and Buffy. It also shows up Dexter (a show with which it shares the same fascination with morality and justice) for the poorly-written, shallow failure that it really is. Team Mackey (and Team Wyms) all the way.
Worst Prediction By Me:
CSI has been the classic example of how one-off procedural shows can still exist and work brilliantly in a long-form world that has seen many story-of-the-week shows deemed obsolete. Every week a new case is introduced, and at the end the case is solved (most of the time). Last season, however, saw the show bring in the excellent Miniature Killer arc, which popped in and out of the procedural, often to devastating effect (as I've said before, Monster in the Box might be the single best episode of CSI ever). This season, the producers have hinted that there would be something similar introduced, but if this episode is anything to go by, it won't be a single criminal, but an ongoing case against a water-processing plant. I hope other fans are as excited about that as I am. It would be Erin Brockovich with less biker beards!
Yes, CBS are really going to anger Corporate America by daring to suggest there is endemic corruption in the system. I couldn't have been more off the mark if I said the series would end with the improbable craziness of Warrick getting shot by the corrupt and possibly demented Undersheriff McKeen. Ha! Ha! Ohhhhhh...
Favourite Screencap of the Year:
Now that's some empathic pain right there. Captain Jack needs a hug, people. The queue to give him some comfort forms on the left (me first!!!).
Best Line of the Year:
"So?" - Ben Linus, upon hearing that killing the man who killed his daughter has doomed the crew of the Kahana.
Runner-Up: "I gotta go pray." Lila Garrity after drunkenly kissing both of her ex-boyfriends.
Visual of the Year:
It's amazing how much I am cheered up just by the thought of Ray Wise, let alone by seeing that infinitely charming grin. Long may he rule in Hell.
Okay, I'm done, I think. Time to look forward to the new season, which features such wonders as John Noble as the awesome Dr. Walter Bishop in Fringe, Whedon's return to TV with Dollhouse, a guaranteed thirteen episode season of Friday Night Lights, Morpheus solving crimes in CSI, the long-delayed return of Big Love, and more questions posed on Lost. I'm vibrating with excitement already.
Best US Alternative Rock Album Produced Between 1990 And 1994. Prettiest Cast Member In Friday Night Lights. Most Powdery Wig In Britain 1752. These are hotly contested titles. Unlike the title of Best New US Show Of The Season 2007-8, which was more like the contest to win England Footballer Of The Year 2007 – all the potential contenders seemed to underperform deliberately, giving the impression it was an accolade no-one wanted to win.
Reaper takes it, although the victory owes more to what the show wasn’t than to what it was. It wasn’t high-gloss, soapy schlock about a bunch of hateful bastards; it wasn’t a rehash of tired sci-fi tropes aimed lazily at a supposedly easily-pleased audience; and it didn’t coast on a thin premise while besotted with its own insufferable quirkiness. It may not have been perfect, but Reaper remained reliably entertaining throughout its run, while demonstrating the importance of a solid concept and a strong cast.
One of the reasons I watched Reaper in the first place was its superficial similarity to one of the greatest TV shows of my lifetime, in which a seemingly ordinary young person reluctantly assumes responsibility for combating the threat of supernatural nasties. But Reaper is certainly not Buffy, and signalled this by having Kevin Smith direct its pilot. It’s as much about a bunch of guys hanging out talking shit as it is about evil hellspawn. Almost every episode sees Sam, Sock and Ben drinking pints at the bar, suggesting that for them beer is nearly as important as serving the Devil by trapping escaped souls and returning them to the underworld. And that is my kinda show.
This attitude underpins Reaper’s whole ethos. Sam may struggle with the burdens of his obligations to the Devil, but he still finds time to goof around at the Work Bench. Ben is thrust into life-endangering situations weekly, but he still loves to daydream about his perfect woman (who of course is independently wealthy, enjoys mixed martial arts and reads Sue Grafton novels). And Sock refuses to take anything seriously – work, the Devil, Sam’s romantic problems – unless it involves his mother. The show’s ambling, amiable spirit feeds into what Admiral Neck diagnosed back in November as Futurama Syndrome – the odd pacing that sees the main plot often wrapped up with ten or more minutes of episode still to unfold. While this was intially weird and unsettling, before long it came to feel familiar and natural, with the realisation that Sam’s adventures in recapturing souls aren’t what Reaper is about. Rather, it’s about Sam’s troubles in balancing his obligations, his responsibilities to friends, family, Andi and work – the problems we all go through when making the transition to adulthood. Their occasionally unearthly nature notwithstanding, Sam’s problems are instantly recognisable for all of us, as is the half-arsed way he goes about trying to solve them. Well, it’s about that and a bunch of guys hanging out talking shit.
Reaper’s main drawback was that for a long time it didn’t appear to be going anywhere: the guys just bumbled from week to week, being equally inept at bounty hunting, retail and affairs of the heart. This was an unusually long establishing period, and only when Sam stumbled (a) into another relationship that ignited Andi’s feelings for him and (b) on a demonkind plot against the Devil was any significant progress made. An ongoing problem – a surprising one, seeing as Reaper is one of the few shows on US TV created by women – is the female characters: Andi is little more than a vessel for Sam’s hopes and desires, only developing a personality in the final third of the season (and even then it’s mainly a ‘one of the guys’ personality); as for Josie, both her femaleness and her blackness feel tokenistic given that she appears only when soul-trapping brushes up against the law or when a Sock-related C-plot is needed; and when Ben finally gets to have a relationship it’s with the shrewish Sara, who manipulates him, steals all his money and leaves him in jail pining for the Grafton-reading fantasy girl Cassidy.
The way Sara was written wasn’t her only problem. I did a little cheer when I saw Lucy Davis’s name in the credits but sadly she was dreadful in the role, all eye-rolling and silly tics and incomprehensible muttering. For someone whose major career role has been on the radio, it’s astonishing how poor her diction is (see also Shaun Of The Dead, if for some reason you haven’t). Fortunately this was just about the only casting misstep Reaper made. The guest spots were a delight, from Melinda Clarke as the lonely mistress of the Devil to Jeff Kober as a hardworking neighbourhood demon, but the best was Ken Marino, essaying his usual easy charm as practical, sweet-natured ex-angel Tony.
But the near-perfect guest casting was no surprise considering the success of Reaper’s main cast. Rick Gonzalez might not be the finest actor on TV but his artless, affable presence is perfect for the sweet-natured Ben. Bret Harrison stands out from any number of blandly handsome puppyish actors not only for his physical comedy skillz – he can take a pummelling like a champ – but also for his hapless ability to inspire sympathy. But these two might have floundered without Tyler Labine, whose energy and gung-ho commitment give Reaper an anarchic edge. Despite his innate – and often hilarious – selfishness, it is Sock who usually provokes the team into action (Sam and Ben would surely remain hopelessly static without him), and Labine has the manic charisma to make this believable.
Labine may prove to be the breakout star of the show, but its ace in the hole is without question Ray Wise. My co-bloggers have already eulogised about his magnificent grin, but the key to the role is Wise’s astonishing ability to switch between avuncular and sinister in a microsecond. He also brings a subtle poignancy at times, inviting you to feel sympathy for the Devil’s inability to enjoy food or his isolation, before doing something gleefully horrible to remind you – hey! He’s the frickin’ Devil! Evidently Anthony Head auditioned for the part, but although he has a certain roguishness, I doubt even Giles could have managed Wise’s devastating combination of authority, playfulness and outright malice. Ah, fuck it – let’s face it, Head couldn’t have emulated this.
Like Friday Night Lights, Reaper has benefited from the lack of new dramas in season 2008-9 and been recommissioned (for 13 episodes at least), despite its mediocre ratings. Although it’s been enjoyable until now, it’ll be fascinating to see where it goes from here. Because while it’s a good show, I’m not convinced it can ever be great. Whether deliberately or not, it has virtually no emotional impact, and no evident ambition to make any; even the apparent death of Sam’s dad in the season finale didn’t quite disrupt the good-humoured atmosphere. I’m sure it can go on being an engaging, lovable show with charm to spare, which is far more than many manage. But if that’s the limit of its aspirations, that’s a shame – and it may not be enough to keep Reaper alive.
Ironically, Ugly Betty, a show about fashion, appears to have been deemed by the hipster douchebag massive to be utterly unfashionable. No longer attracting the torrent of column inches it once did, nor as many articles about how groundbreaking it is to have a major primetime network show have a Hispanic female lead, the show has had to contend with that most galling of fates for a show that was once the hottest thing around; being taken for granted. In the UK, it's gotten so bad that C4 have delayed its return just so it can show hour after hour of horrible, tacky, stupid displays of unappealing bad behaviour, featuring a cast of blithering fuckwits, hopping from bed to bed, making fools of themselves and only getting a tarnished reputation into the bargain (I know, I said I wouldn't go on about Dirty Sexy Money again, but I'm seriously pissed about Betty's shunning).
After being accepted by the mainstream in its first season, winning awards and magazine covers and the love of even the most fashion-averse person in the world (i.e., me), the second season had the same air of early tiredness that The O.C. had after it made waves with its freshman year, though that might be a consequence of becoming part of the cultural landscape with such speed and success. Just to clarify, I don't mean that to be the insult that many others seem to. While some cultural commentators have written The O.C. off after its first season finale, we loved almost all of the second season and pretty much all of the fourth season, which was wonderfully unhinged. So Ugly Betty, after its excellent first season, had a sporadically highly entertaining second, with the odd mini-run of mediocrity, and a couple of patches of outright horror. Despite that, it was good enough to keep our interest, but we pray it doesn't have a third season to match The O.C.
Of all the shows that returned after the strike hiatus, this was the one that seemed most damaged. While pre-strike Betty had been mostly a lot of fun, when it came back it didn't seem to remember what had made the show fun in the first place. For a show that often feels like a half-spoof/half-homage to both the telenovela format it was adapted from and the endless churning plotlines of US daytime soaps, the second half of the season was disappointingly humdrum. The death of Bradford Meade (yet another onscreen heart attack for Alan Dale, matching the ones he had in The O.C. and Neighbours) triggered one last bonkers plot development, as Wilhelmina (the always excellent Vanessa Williams) extracted his sperm post-mortem, and convinced Christina to carry her and Bradford's child.
While this was pleasingly melodramatic, it regrettably gave the dreary mugging of Ashley Jensen more screentime, something that had been missing in the first half of the season. Seriously, what with her in this and Lucy Davis stinking up Reaper with her expanding bag of tics and incomprehensible line readings, there seems to be a war between the Gervais graduates to become Most Annoying UK Woman On US TV. Ladies, please call it a draw and come home. There are characters in The Bill going uncast right as we speak.
Other than that, only the relationship between Daniel and Wilhelmina's bipolar sister, Renee (played with sadly wasted gusto by Gabrielle Union), came close to generating that crazy frisson the show once had, but even that fell flat. It was transparently a contrived way to keep Wilhelmina in the same plot orbit as Daniel and the rest of the Mode staff after Bradford's widow and children finally found a reason to remove her from the magazine. This was all necessary; once Bradford had died, and Wilhelmina's duplicity had been revealed, there was no way to realistically keep her on staff before the announcement of her imminent child/heir to the Meade fortune, so she had to be removed.
It was understandable plot mechanics, but it was little fun to watch, mostly because it committed the cardinal sin of separating Marc and Amanda, whose friendship and bitchiness are our favourite thing about the show. There was a stretch of episodes where they didn't interact at all, with Marc nothing more than Wilhelmina's foil (also fun, but not in the same league as his screentime with Amanda), and Amanda chasing her real father, who for a time seemed to be Gene Simmons.
That was another problem with the latter half of the season. Although I don't have anything against stunt casting, and think it's often brilliant when done well (e.g., James Carville on 30 Rock and Carl Weathers on Arrested Development), it can also go very wrong or be totally pointless. While Simmons and Betty White worked out quite well, I'm still having nightmares about Eliza Dushku's abominable "comedic" performance, and appearances by Posh Spice (gak!), Larry King, Lindsay Lohan, and Naomi Campbell were wasted (though it was a pleasant surprise to see her appear, the jokes about Campbell's violent streak were disappointingly predictable). I guess that's the price you pay once a show you like becomes popular. All the "cool kids" want to hang out with it.
With the garish soap theatrics kept to a minimum, the show relied on the relationship dramas to keep it afloat. We'd grown to like the characters, so it seemed like a good idea, but, sadly, it was often a mistake. Hilda's flirting with Justin's high school gym teacher was meet-bland, Daniel's fling with Wilhelmina's sister served only to keep the plate containing his irresponsible libido spinning, and Marc's boyfriend Cliff mysteriously disappeared from sight as soon as they were seen trying to hire pr0n together. Come back, Cliff! Your relationship with Marc was the only one we ended up caring about!
Of course, the main relationship drama was provided by the Betty-Henry-Gio-Charlie square, a plot I had enjoyed at the start of the season. However, by the time the season finale rolled around, I was utterly bored with it. In the first season we had dreaded the onscreen arrival of Betty's first boyfriend Walter in every episode (for all time he will be known as the Ugly Betty Gupta), while at the same time hoping Henry would return to make nerdy love eyes at Betty.
This season, every appearance of Henry served to piss us off, as we saw that he was actually not good enough for Betty either. As she grows as a person, and moves towards becoming a good writer (though probably never a great one; a lovely and realistic touch in a show that often skirts the edges of absurdity), it's obvious she's holding herself back to embark on a doomed love affair with someone whose chivalrous need to do the right thing by his new child will always get in the way of their love, if it even is love by that point. We grew ever more frustrated to see Henry's vacillation and crossed priorities get in the way of Betty's happiness, at first because we felt bad for her, and eventually because we felt bad for ourselves, as the same plot returned over and over.
That said, even if we found the arc dull, we thought it featured some of the cleverest writing, directing, and acting of the whole season. At first steadfastly Team Henry, I reacted strongly and negatively to the introduction of Gio, played by Freddy Rodriguez, this time sans rubber arm. Having loved Six Feet Under, we are steadfast fans of Rodriguez, but Gio royally pissed me off with his cockiness and bravado (Canyon was more forgiving). However, with Henry's need to do the right thing often being indistinguishable from lack of backbone, by the end of the season we had washed our hands of him, thrown out our Team Henry badges, and put on Team Gio t-shirts. When, in the penultimate episode, he says to Betty, "I don't wanna be the rebound guy. I wanna be the guy," I went nuts. OMG Betty you have to marry Gio immediately!
Of course, the problem with the rise of Gio is that the battle between him and Henry was only even for about an episode, as Gio's rise mirrored Henry's fall. By the time Henry turned up at Betty's doorstep to ask him to move to Tucson, we just got mad. Gio won! Get over it! (Though it does appear prescient now.) With Charlie (Jayma Mays) turned into a hissable cartoon villain (another misstep for the show; her character worked much better when she was even vaguely sympathetic, making Henry's need for Betty even more uncomfortable and dramatic), there was no way his plan could work -- not to mention that it would wreck the show. The final shot hinted that Betty got on a plane, but to travel to Tucson with Henry, or on holiday to Rome with Gio? Or to New York, where the show will be filmed next season thanks to Arnold Schwarzenegger and tax incentives.
If you've made it this far, you'll note that I have little good to say about the show. Some of the characters became neutered (Judith Light's awesome Claire Meade went from semi-unhinged bitch to kindly fairy godmother) or too unpleasant (Alexis became a humourless bully). Some plotlines disappeared entirely (Marc and Cliff's relationship, Ignatio's past crimes), or started off well and dribbled to an inconclusive stop (Justin's grief over his father's death, which had been one of the more compelling arcs of the season). As before, a lot of this could be attributed to the effects of the strike, but whereas the first season had a shockingly high quality level, some of the episodes from the second season are the worst ever. Some weeks I even wondered why I bothered watching it.
If this were any other show that means I would stop, but Ugly Betty still has flashes of brilliance, and remains one of the most consistently well directed shows on TV. Though the clunky episodes were as empty and uninspiring as the most tired examples of the genre it mocks, and even though there were some appalling promotional gaffes here and there (the blatant shout-outs to Wicked and 27 Dresses were just awful), it still held our attention to the end, and still managed to surprise and delight us often enough to make us forgive it its shortcomings. In part that's down to the great cast, with America Ferrera, Vanessa Williams, comedy genius Becki Newton and her equally brilliant BFF Michael Urie, Mark Indelicato, and (when he has something to do) Tony Plana taking most of the honours. I'd watch the show just to see them all at work, no matter how crappy things get.
Plus, even at its worst it kept its good-hearted tone, which counts in its favour. Though many of the characters are snide, the show itself totally sincere in its klaxon-loud appeals to good nature and honesty, a trait I find myself continually happified by, even though I'm the archetypal grouch. A disappointment, then, but by no means a failure. I do hope next season heralds a real return to form, though that shooting relocation does make one wonder whether the tone of the show will change. One thing is for certain. Unless it suddenly became implausibly awesome as soon as I stopped watching it, Dirty Sexy Money will always be in its shadow, a poor imitation of glossy, soapy entertainment, empty and lunk-headed and mechanical. It's not fit to lick Betty's unattractive shoes.
While compiling our weekly views of how the previous seven days of TV had affected us, we noticed that the first half of House's fourth season had often been the highlight. Coming off an appalling third season, with its format badly in need of an overhaul, season four began with an almost clean slate. His usual acolytes scattered to the four winds, House was coerced into finding three new minions, which he did by way of a selection process that took up the first half of the season. It was pure genius, allowing the show to keep its dramatic side confined to disposable subplots (diseases of the week), while allowing the comedic half to flourish with withering putdowns, mischievous gameplaying, and petty squabbling. I think I said at the time that the show had been waiting to find its voice, and finally it had. Forget about the dreary seriousness of season three, with its silly bad cop subplots, and forget the formulaic nature of the show. It had finally found a way to rise above those limitations.
Much criticism is made of the rigid format and how the show cannot escape it, but it can wiggle around within it, which tends to take the attention off House and his machinations. Season four changed a lot, including pushing the medical drama just ever so slightly out of the spotlight, and concentrating more on House and his gameplaying. Plus, he wasn't in danger of being "cured" by his colleagues, and no one had yet another freakout about his drugtaking. It allowed Hugh Laurie to do what he does best; supersnarky misanthropy tempered with flashes of intense humanity. Agonising over how to cure House (which can often waste several episodes of a season) was almost entirely removed, except in an episode in the second half of the season, No More Mr. Nice Guy, in which Kutner suspects House is suffering from neuro-syphilis which could be responsible for his terrible personality. Of course, this is a joke played by House, but much of the episode featured House's colleagues worrying that they would ruin him as a doctor by curing him of his misanthropy, much as the show would be ruined by such a plot development. It was a nice way of acknowledging that they're not going to be messing with House for a while.
At least, they're not going to waste time with the staff of Princeton-Plainsboro trying to figure him out. Instead, in a nice twist, House himself might want to trigger a change in himself, with the two-part finale throwing him into a situation where one of the few things he cares about, Wilson's friendship, is in jeopardy. Due to his irresponsibility, House and Wilson's girlfriend Amber get into a bus crash just after she takes flu pills. With her kidneys damaged in the crash, she cannot process the amantadine in the pills. At the end of the final episode, Amber dies in Wilson's arms after he shuts off her life support, and we sobbed. Seriously. Like, for a long time after the episode ended. Stupid TV show.
Perhaps next season this new antagonism will provide much of the drama, as House tries to win back the friendship of his only friend, perhaps by becoming a better person. The prospect of such an arc is potentially interesting, as change has to come from within, and I'd much rather watch Hugh Laurie battle with his demons instead of putting up with conversations between his colleagues about what to do with him, conversations that are rarely done well and can drastically shift the balance of the show from humour into boring hand-wringing and frustrating contrivance. However, it will almost certainly feature the removal of one of the most appealing features of the show; House and Wilson's mostly good-natured game-playing. As I've said before, their interaction is one of the most entertaining things on TV, and losing that would suck. That change in tone at the start of season four might be temporary, but if Wilson's reaction to the sight of House recovering from the coma he entered while trying to diagnose Amber is anything to go by, we're in for a rough patch. Ingrate!
As I say, the first half of the season was especially good, with House bouncing off a large roomful of well-sketched characters, with his other colleagues stripped of their angst over his personality and becoming entertaining foils for him. They even fixed Foreman, who had previously just been a sulky minion and ended up becoming almost an equal to House. His arc was especially well thought out and depicted, with Omar Epps at first disgusted with himself for becoming the thing he most hated (i.e. an approximation of House), and then becoming reconciled with it.
That the second half of the season, after House had chosen his new team, was not up to the first nine episodes was not that great a surprise, especially with the disease of the week drama becoming more prominent, but there were consolations. Frozen, featuring House diagnosing an snow-bound Mira Sorvino via webcam was particularly entertaining, and Living The Dream, with House kidnapping the star of his favourite daytime soap was funny too. All the while, the tone of the show remained lighter than it has been, and even though the formula of the show reasserted itself in later episodes, I still felt that my support for the show even through its most tedious interludes had more than paid off. As Canyon said prior to watching the finale, even if the show can often feel like it is doing the same thing over and over again, there are very few, if any, shows on TV right now that do this kind of thing so well. The dialogue is better than pretty much anything else on TV. It's funny, it's smart, it's philosophical. If it veers into sentimentality every now and again, that's the price we pay for the rest of the intelligent writing showcased almost every week. The show doesn't get enough credit for that.
Sadly, with the strike shutting the show down for a while, once more we had an arc damaged by not getting enough screentime, as with CSI's Warrick arc. Amber quickly switched from Cutthroat Bitch to Best Girlfriend Ever, and if you had an inkling about what was lying in wait for her in the finale, you would possibly have found the whole thing contrived. Luckily we had no idea what was going to happen, but still, it could have done with more room to breathe. That's not a proper criticism of the show, though, and Canyon's praise still stands. The showrunners did the best they could with little time to properly set up that two-parter.
And boy, did it work out well. Writers Peter Blake, David Foster, Russel Friend, and Garrett Lerner (working from a story by Doris Egan) went all out over the two episodes (called House's Head and Wilson's Heart), treating the viewer to interactive hallucinations, spectacular set-pieces, arc resolutions (poor Thirteen finding out she was positive for Huntington's while we were already upset about Amber was simultaneously cruel and brilliant), and heart-rending goodbyes. It was devastating and amazing and brutal and a million other things. It was easily the best of all the season finales we've seen so far, with Reaper, Ugly Betty, and Lost yet to come (not to mention Battlestar Galactica's mini-season finale and the last episode of Doctor Who).
That said, while I liked the whole finale overall, the first part was, sadly, overdirected to the point of obnoxiousness by Greg Yaitanes (who I have railed against before). If ever there was a TV director who is determined to get noticed enough to win a film career, it's him, filling the episode with annoying Sonnenfeld-esque close-ups, flashy lighting, and Cuddy stripping. Here is a picture of her post-strip. I'm not going to contribute to the uncomfortable memory of poor Lisa Edelstein having to dress like a schoolgirl and rub her butt on a pole.
In contrast, Katie Jacobs, helmer of the second half of the finale, was relatively restrained, which was just what the more emotional episode needed. With more subdued editing and framing, we were treated to an emotional rollercoaster, perfectly judged and beautifully performed (there's a good chance Laurie's usual award nominations will be joined by some for Robert Sean Leonard and Anne Dudek). Okay, I will admit that there was one good sequence by Yaitanes in the first part, namely the dazzling bus crash flashback in the final scene. It's big, scary, and superbly shot, and made me regret grumbling about the rest of the episode. That is, until I realised that the whole sequence was very reminiscent of the plane crash flashback at the end of Peter Weir's underrated drama Fearless, even down to the shots of hands reaching towards each other, a tunnel of light, spinning and debris and carnage, etc. I don't blame Yaitanes from borrowing from that sequence, as it's great. If he didn't borrow, then the guy knows how to create good scenes that just happen to really resemble scenes from a well-known movie. I guess that's a skill too.
Other than the possibility of an organic transition from misanthropic House to a more caring, sharing House (who would still hopefully be enough of a jerk to be entertaining; turning him into Santa would be absurd), I have no idea what to expect of the new season. Will the new team leave? Thirteen now knows her days are short, so there's a possibility she won't be around for long. Will that mean a return for Cameron? That would mean more screentime for Jennifer Morrison, whose only purpose this season seemed to be making sure she stands as far away from ex-fiancee Jesse Spencer as possible while still remaining on the same show (it was as if they were playing hide and seek on set, which was both funny and sad at the same time). All I want to know is, will the show stay funny? Or will this be Tritter-Redux, with House and Wilson at each other's throats? After the awesomeness of season four, that's the last thing we need.
Still, I can't imagine that it could be worse than Castle or The Unusuals. Despite the charmkrieg that is Nathan Fillion selling almost every shitty joke and laboured flirt-op (and proving he is indeed better, better than Neil, at so many things it's hard to conceal), everything else about it is to entertainment as formica is to wood. A lot of unimaginative shows feel like they are made by machines, but the machine that made this is constructed out of string and cardboard and powered by irradiated rats. Still, at least it's not The Unusuals. ABC's website made this sound like a drama featuring a bunch of unorthodox cops whose rarified skillsets allowed them to solve crimes no one else could. Canyon thought it was meant to be a straight-up comedy. That it satisfied neither of us is a sign something went haywire as soon as calloused fingers typed Fade In.
