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.
Since writing about Mike Leigh's Happy-Go-Lucky, it has been released in America to a tidal wave of positive notices, with even less dissent than there was in the UK. While I would like to think some of that might be attributable to Anglophilia from some critics who consider the UK to be automatically culturally superior (a fallacious assumption if ever there was one), people I know and whose opinion I respect have chimed in with fulsome and uncompromised praise as well. Once more I feel like the curmudgeon who hates fun, even though I still maintain the movie is a wretched, hollow mess hiding behind a smug veneer of respectability.
However, this suspicion that I am out-of-step with the happier end of the cultural spectrum haunts me even more now that I've seen Mamma Mia!, the most successful Hollywood musical of all time. The DVD release has been the cause of much celebrationby the UK press, who giddily recount tales of singalong screenings packed full of delirious fans who adore it, flaws and all. Though some outright hate it, I've heard many people say they thought it was dreadful, but couldn't hate it because it is so genial and determinedly jolly that picking on it seemed unfair.
I had a similar response at first, but it slowly turned sour, which convinced me to blog about it. That post is coming up, but while writing it I kept changing tack, eventually realising that my thoughts about it were rooted in my unspoken beliefs about criticism. This realisation came as I saw with some sadness that, as both Mamma Mia! and Happy-Go-Lucky have accidentally or intentionally generated a impregnable forcefield against criticism by dint of being celebrations of joyousness, writing negatively about them is tantamount to hating life, or proof, as Melanie Reid puts it in this column, that I “have missed the joke”. Maybe she’s right, as the only jokes I could see on display in Mamma Mia! involved bawdy comments about promiscuity and male genitalia, and they didn’t make me laugh. I must hate life!
This gets to the core of any film criticism (or, in my case, amateurish blogging about superhero flicks), that for any movie or book or album or comic or game, there is liable to be someone out there who thinks it's a joy-inducing slice of heaven, so what purpose does a dissenting voice matter? There are even those of us who think Speed Racer is a misunderstood classic, but as only twelve people seemed to like it, it's not quite the same thing. Mamma Mia! is the fastest selling DVD of all time, a record that is unlikely to be broken when The Dark Knight comes out, even though that movie made $440m more in theatres. Mamma Mia! isn't just loved by a few. Its fanbase seems to be monolithic. It makes millions of people deliriously happy. What's the point of bringing up the faults of this movie when millions of people either ignore those faults or think they they are actually the things that make it more real or honest?
This is the "If you don't like it, don't watch it," defence, employed by fans to bitch out anyone who dares to point out the flaws in the object of their affection. Talkbacks across the internet are littered with this mewling protest, not in the hope of saving someone from wasting their time on something they don't like or "get", but because they want the negative assessment eradicated. It's childish and conceited and hilariously thought to be the final word in these arguments, even though I'll watch whatever I fucking like and won't be told what to do by some weasel in a Save The Cheerleader t-shirt.
(To whoever created that image, thank you from the bottom of my heart.)
To clarify, I feel I have an insight into their mindset. Shamefully, I will admit to thinking Heather Havrilesky should just switch Lost off as it's obviously not the show she expects, and her constant frustration with it for not being a jolly romp every week is depressing to read, but that's in my crankiest moments. Obviously she should do what she wants to, or has to, what with her being a TV critic and all. That attempt at rationality on my part doesn't make reading her drubbings any less frustrating or upsetting, though. Why is my emotional response so visceral? Am I personally offended by it? Is it an unthinking and oblivious diss of my own opinion? Am I objectively wrong somehow, and Havrilesky has some insight into the show that I, a mere blogger and fanboy, am missing? Am I empathising so much with the creators of the show that I feel bad for them being insulted like this?
It's all very silly and solipsistic, and I try to subdue those feelings. While pretty much everything that happens on the internet is ephemeral and meaningless, I heartily believe raging ineffectually against a consensus opinion is necessary and almost worthwhile, and not just in an arrogant "Every Opinion Counts" way. It's the way of things that people are more likely to want to debate something that they enjoy above something they dislike, as most people will gladly not waste time on something they derive no pleasure from. As a result, fanbases grow and solidify, and any outsiders looking for information about a work of pop culture and/or art will come upon an uncritical consensus view that something has value. Sometimes it will, above and beyond the appeal it has to a fanbase, and sometimes it won't. However, as time passes these pop culture artifacts become considered classics, and their influence can be felt on other works that come later.
That's all well and good if they're original and personal and thought-provoking etc., but if they're poor but popular, it can be a problem. While I'm uninterested in anything that rips off Buffy or Angel, I'll happily give hours of my life to experiencing the work of people inspired by the Mutant Enemy team to stretch themselves to those heights of writing. It's likely to happen, as many writers on that show were insanely talented (Whedon, Espenson and Goddard particularly spring to mind), and to aspire to their level of excellence is commendable. The goalposts should be there, but if, over time, flat and lifeless writing is considered the height of achievement thanks to relentless praise from uncritical fans, those goalposts move, and we're stuck with Torchwood as the standard bearer. Yes, I’m aware that I’m describing a worst case scenario that is almost totally beyond belief, but the nightmares of a world in which that poo-wad of a show is revered have been keeping me up at night. I appreciate that there is a large element of over-reaction there. After all, no one would ever try to fuse the macho nonsense of Torchwood with the concept of Buffy.
And no, I'm not one of these fusty old moaners who thinks that standards are in the toilet and TV and cinema are cultural toilets with nothing of merit on offer. If anything, things are better than ever, primarily because even those stereotypical suit-wearing, cigar-chomping movie moguls are realising that smarter movies can find an audience and even a profit (though I hate to admit it, you can credit the Weinsteins' ability to make Miramax such a success for that sea-change). What worries me is that, while blogging and talkbacks allow anyone's opinion to be voiced, a dissenting voice will be shouted down by the fans, who have more of a stake in supporting the object of their affection than the "hater" has in hating on it (the exception to this rule is Heroes, which seems to have a large audience, most of whom are having fun piling on).
Of course, that is not to say I’m patting trolls on the back for standing up to the consensus with random reflexive insults that are posted merely to be contrary or obnoxious. There is a middle-ground, and debate can be conducted on the internet with civility and courtesy. I’ve managed it in the bearpit that is the AICN talkback, and if it can be done there, it can be done anywhere. It’s easy. Just follow the simple rule, “Don’t be an asshole”, and, weirdly, people respond positively. It’s shocking but true. I'm also aware that yes, there are often sites that go beyond the pale in chasing after an object of hate (I just stumbled across this baffling site obsessing about Kevin Smith), and while I return to the same few things I think represent the ass-end of pop culture, I do try to praise the stuff that makes it all worthwhile.
Before I forget, when I mentioned to Canyon that I was going to write this post, she made a good point, that often pop culture artifacts that receive a uniform critical drubbing or blanket praise do so because those with an opposite opinion feel cowed by the wave of consensus, and it's only after a dissenting voice speaks up that some people feel bold enough to voice their doubts. I'm not sure how often this happens, but Canyon mentioned the Titanic backlash, and The Dark Knight certainly went from high praise to fevered criticism pretty quickly. One anti-Torchwood post I wrote received comments about how relieved people were that the show wasn't just accepted as a quality production by everyone, as several media outlets were acting as if it was must-see TV, when in fact it was an ongoing car crash. It can be a real Mugatu/Crazy Pills experience when you're a lone rebel (oh God, get me!), so if even my carping, which is read by something like twelve people on a regular basis, is aimed at something everyone likes and gives others the courage to say how they feel, then I feel much better about being a mean-spirited jerk making fun of Eve Myles' berserk facial expressions.
Okay, that’s enough navel-gazing and justificating and preening and stating of the obvious. Consider this my huge caveat whenever I get all mean and start to complain about something that has a loyal fanbase. Though it might not seem like it, I'm criticising something beloved out of a sense of duty to mankind, and I also temper that with love. There should be garlands strewn at my feet or something.
Throughout the year, I've been wondering: What is the responsibility of a critic? Is it to respond openly and enthusiastically to whatever an artist is trying to do? Or is it to nitpick it in the name of maintaining some authority? For most of my career, I've leaned toward the former, but I'm starting to see the value in the latter. Everything looks flawed to me these days—even the music, movies, TV shows and books that I love. When I review Mad Men or Lost for The TV Club, I often take pains to note the flaws even as I'm raving about what those shows do right, but whenever I do that, I wonder if I'm unnecessarily bumming out fans who came to The TV Club merely to celebrate the good. If I'd reviewed The Shield finale—one of the best TV endings of all time—would I have been persnickety enough to point out that some of the dialogue was strained and the ending rushed? If so, would that have served a purpose? I'm honestly not sure.
Of course, I think he has a duty to pick faults with the finale of The Shield which, while dwarfing everything else on TV all year, had its problems, though minor. His concern that the fans would be upset is off the mark. Fans with thin skins should know better than to expect blanket praise from a site written by such thoughtful people, and everyone else would appreciate the back-and-forth in the comments section. Also, if people are to trust your opinion, you have an obligation to be honest with yourself, especially if you're contributing to a larger dialogue. The man needs to be fearless, as do we all. Be sure to read the articles he links to in the first paragraph. The Pop Matters post is especially bracing, especially this:
Most reviewers are similarly in it for the self-definition, seeking to prove to themselves that their tastes are unique or trying to secure tangible proof of their influence on the world. The parasitic positive review is as much a will to power as the nihilistic negative one.
It's funny makes me feel kinda queasy because it's true.
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.
First I hit you all up with the shiny side of my two-headed coin, compelling me to give up much love to those shows that made my heart soar this last year, but now that coin has landed on its nasty scarred side, and I am forced by my innate sense of cosmic balance to point my finger at those hours of TV that offended unto my very core. That pain, so crippling to me, must be expunged somehow, and this list is my preferred method of self-exorcism. Please indulge me while I carp.
10. Lost - Ji Yeon
It gives me zero pleasure to put an episode of Lost on this list, especially one that featured a wonderful and emotionally exhausting performance from Yunjin Kim, but there is no getting past the fact that the entire episode is based around a silly narrative trick employed merely to distract the audience enough to bring out a big shock at the end. Being well made and well acted is not enough, as rewatching this episode has shown how empty that flashback/forward trick is. While Lost has certainly messed around with the audience before, using our expectation against us as a judo wrestler uses the weight of the opponent against him/her, this episode was blatantly a big nothing wrapped in a trick bow. To add insult to injury, the other big shock of the episode was the reveal of Michael as the Kahana crewmember doing Ben's bidding. As Harold Perrineau's name had been in the credits all season without him appearing once, no one could possibly have been fooled.
9. Dexter - See-Through
There are many things that mystify us, but the critical and popular success of Dexter is high up on the list of most baffling events ever. Watching the second season has taken us almost a year, with each new episode annoying us so much we decide against watching any further and yet are forced to struggle on just to clear space on the Sky+ box. Sometimes all it takes to piss us off is the first couple of lines of each episode's voiceover, which removes all subtlety from the show and in its place gives us some cringeworthy psychological drivel that could only come from the mind of someone who has done nothing but read bad crime novels their whole life. No other "quality" cable show on TV has so little respect for the audience, drowning out all thought or interpretation with a barrage of exposition, moralising, and primary-school level philosophical meanderings. Dexter is perhaps the least mysterious and most predictable character on TV, which makes following his adventures utterly tiresome.
To make things worse, though we suspect that removing that redundant voiceover would significantly improve the show, even then it would still have some of the most unappealing characters on TV. Grumpy Doakes the Grumpy Grumpy Cop, the vile worm Masuka (whose dialogue is a series of variations on, "I'd buy that for a dollar!!!"), Dexter's relentlessly aggressive sister Debra, the hapless Secret-loving Angel, duplicious Rosie-Perez-voice-clone LaGuerta, Rita the constantly peeved girlfriend; I appreciate that there is much to be made of including unlikeable characters in a show (some of our favourites are littered with unpleasant people), but these aren't interesting character studies. They're just a bunch of annoying jerks, all of whom are as boring as sand. So why choose this episode? Because it introduced another show Gupta (Rita's horrible mom, a caricature of a meddling mother), and cemented our dislike of Dexter's Narcotics Anonymous sponsor Lila, a Manic Pixie Dream Girl with a criminal mind and an over-enunciation habit. I'll get to her soon, time permitting.
8. Heroes - Cautionary Tales
In other internet venues, SoC contributor Masticator has plowed a lonely furrow, arguing that the second season of Heroes, which had attracted so much vitriol, was about the same as the first season, quality-wise, if a little worse for not having a stand-out episode like Company Man, which featured highly in last year's Caruso Awards. While I've already railed against the show for having a very disappointing sophomore season, I'm not sure I articulated it fully. It can be summed up like this; all of the suspicions I had that the boldness of the storytelling masked a deeply stupid, derivative concept and some equally shaky execution were confirmed in the second season, which not only failed to deliver on the promise of the first season, but damaged it terribly by shooting off in different directions, none of which were particularly interesting, all the while doing very little to entertain (for a show about superheroes, no one did anything superheroic except for DL). The occasionally histrionic performances ran riot, characters died like punks for no apparent narrative or logical reason (RIP DL, the true hero!!!), allegiances changed over and over again (what the hell is Suresh thinking from scene to scene, let alone episode to episode?), and so much endless, formless, pointless dialogue poured from our TV that by the midpoint of the strike-truncated season I had completely lost the thread of what was going on.
I'm no dummy, but I honestly had no clue what was happening by the final few episodes. Motives were explained so sketchily that I felt like giving up on the whole thing numerous times. All of this is before we get to the other, well-trodden complaints about the season; Hiro's ridiculous Japanese adventures, the wasted new characters, the similarities between the big arcs of this season and last season, the Hoirish Ghangsturrs frrrrrom Cork don't yer know begorrah, and the inability of the showrunners to capitalise on the strengths of the cast (especially Adrian Pasdar, whose saltiness was a refreshing change from all of the portentous performances from everyone else). The badness was spread so thinly across the whole season that picking the worst episode is hard, so I've plumped for this one, partially because it was so memorably over the top (that over-director Greg Yaitanes again), but mostly because the gulf between the epic ambitions of the showrunners and the silly, undramatic, kinda ridiculous end product is made glaringly apparent here. It was a fun episode to watch, but it broke the show for us. Masticator may be right. The second season might not be that much worse than the first season. The problem is, as I said at the time, the first season hinted that, once it had found its footing, the show might have been brain-fodder as well as nerd-fodder. After this episode aired, I gave up that dream and figured it would be CSI: Miami with metahumans. Which is fun in its own right, but still a disappointment.
7. Doctor Who - Voyage Of The Damned
Thus far every season of the New Who has had a stinker at some point, an episode of depressing stupidity that taints the whole run. The latest season, number four, was mediocre at worst, with the Sontaran two-parter representing the season's nadir (unless you are Masticator and have an aversion to adorable little creatures made of fat). That was merely boring, a crime that is forgivable when Who usually has so much enjoyable energy to spare. However, Who season four merely dodged a bullet; there was a truly dreadful episode aired prior to that season, and it was watched by a huge portion of the British viewing public. Russell T Davies' Christmas special was an indulgent abomination, with the stunt-casting of the mysteriously popular Kylie, who killed every single one of her lines, being only one of a number of egregious failings. If the repeated angelic and messianic metaphors weren't enough to wreck the show, the hammy performances were. Guest actor Clive Swift got lucky, though. His teeth-grating and florid line-readings would have been the worst thing about the entire regrettable endeavour if RTD hadn't thought it a wizard idea to have the Queen running around Buckingham Palace in robe and slippers. It almost made me a Monarchist out of sympathy. The disastrous exercise in condescension was almost Torchwoodian in its dedication to barrel-scraping.
6. Chuck - Chuck Versus the Truth
The titling conceit on Chuck is that each week, faux-nerd Chuck is put in opposition to something. It's a semi-comedic method of naming the episode, as mannered as Seinfeld's simple The [Something] titles, or Friends' The One With [The Something]. This episode, which I again had stern words about earlier, was the only time in the first season Chuck went up against a concept, though sadly it wasn't the right one. Perhaps Chuck Vs. The Patience of the Audience would have been more accurate. Riddled with the usual uncertain performances, re-re-rehashed plots, poorly filmed action, and flat dialogue, this installment compounded those Chuckian standards with some egregious plot errors so glaring that the entire crew must have been asleep while filming to have not noticed it. If NBC's cancellation of Journeyman wasn't already galling enough, the renewal of this vapid atonal tripe is salt in the wound. Perhaps this is more entertaining than a broken TV, but surely only because Adam Baldwin is in it. Even with his talent involved, Chuck is an insult to pop culture itself.
5. Dirty Sexy Money - The Italian Banker
An expensive, major network show with a starry cast, lots of promotion, and a writing staff that included writers from Six Feet Under, Lost, and Veronica Mars, this should have been a home run, but alarms were ringing after the pilot ran on the spot for 42 minutes with no character, line of dialogue, or event generating enough energy to imprint itself on my memory. It didn't get any better. As my previous comments have shown, the writing was pitched at a mid-afternoon soap level, with only the production values and relentless winking of the actors to differentiate it from The Bold and the Beautiful. While Ugly Betty (when operating at full power) perfectly understands how to satirise trashy soap stylings while revelling in their excesses, Dirty Sexy Money didn't seem to have a handle on how to maintain a consistent tone. Switching from fluffy to dramatic with a grinding of narrative gears is bad enough, but there was nothing else going on to distract the viewer from this clumsiness. This episode was only marginally worse than all of the others, thanks to some startlingly bad dialogue, worn out plot threads from numerous other shows and films, and obsequious product placement for Bulgari, but the entire show was flawed from conception.
4. Ugly Betty - Giving Up The Ghost
Debate has raged between the contributors to this blog as to which Ugly Betty episode was the weakest. Masticator and Canyon have maintained that the Wicked advert called Something Wicked This Way Comes was the worst, and given that that despicable nonsense insulted Ray Bradbury with its name, I very seriously considered adding it to the list. However, the painful memories of Giving Up The Ghost are still raw, so I'll have to plump for it. Featuring the same kinds of broad caricature, feeble dialogue, scenery-chewing performances, cliche-strewn plots, and misunderstanding of tone as your average episode of Dirty Sexy Money (a crime considering Ugly Betty usually gets the tone spot-on), it also included a career-worst guest appearance by Eliza Dushku, and brought about the necessary but frustrating separation of Wilhelmina from the Mode offices. That, in turn, split Marc from Amanda, which meant the show suddenly felt like The Venture Brothers without Brock Samson, or 30 Rock without Jack Donaghy. In one fell swoop the episode killed the funny for weeks to come, crippling the show during the latter half of the season. All of these events were overturned eventually, but the ratio of good to bad episodes was in the negative from then on.
3. Bionic Woman - Sisterhood
Oh God, where to begin? I've bitched about many shows here that are often good but had a bad week, or shows that might have seemed promising upon conception but never really gelled once shooting began, or shows that couldn't back up their lofty ambitions, but Bionical Woman represents that rarity in the new Golden Age of TV; an out and out disaster from conception onwards. Nothing, and I mean nothing, about this show worked. The concept, hinting at modern self-awareness and littered with unconvincing tech-speak about such bleeding edge concepts as nanotechnology (ooooOOOOoooohhhh! So futuristical!), was still ridiculous in the way that only 70s sci fi TV can be, and all attempts to update the original show regularly misfired. With the sci fi hook malfunctioning, there was no hope for it anyway, but the poorly sketched mythology, miscasting, lacklustre action, and aversion to originality rendered it particularly dreadful. At its best the show was utterly boring. At its worst, however, it was an unmitigated and hilarious failure. This episode, featuring a regrettable guest appearance by Isaiah Washington, Katee Sackhoff chomping on drywall and furniture in a vague approximation of a tortured soul, and poor Michelle Ryan having to say, "Bring it on, bitch," was the worst example of the whole debacle, and a comedic masterpiece to boot. Highly recommended.
2. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation - Two and a Half Deaths
As a successful show progresses, it will either stagnate or become scared of stagnation. CSI, a show that could potentially run forever with careful changes of cast, has dabbled with gimmickry to keep fresh something that doesn't need to be fiddled with. Though some of those tricks have worked well (the Miniature Killer arc, William Friedkin directing an episode, Liev Schreiber's guest appearance), swapping writing teams with the Two and a Half Men showrunners (Lee Aronsohn and Chuck Lorre) is a contender for the worst decision ever made in TV history. What is usually a pretty slick and intelligent piece of TV was instantly transformed into a score-settling grab-bag of cliches, weak jokes, eye-rolling performances, and petty attacks on the writers' former employers on Roseanne and Grace Under Fire. To willfully allow your show, a successful, well-loved work that relies on atmosphere and character acting for its impact, to be hijacked by a couple of giggling twerps with chips on their shoulders and only a vague understanding of what makes CSI work better than any other procedural on TV, is an almost suicidal gesture, and a shocking fuck you aimed at the fanbase. My previous praise for the show still stands, but if anything is going to kill the show, it will be failure of nerve. Stay the course, CSI showrunners.
1. Torchwood - Something Borrowed
Regular readers will not be surprised by the presence of the ever-dire Torchwood, but as with Lost, I had a tough time deciding which episode should represent the show at the top of this list. Contenders included the season opener, with James Marsters failing to make the show's trademark shitty dialogue work, as well as the garbled and shouty finale, and of course Meat, the hilariously misguided animal rights allegory that featured such delights as Ianto's demented taser rampage, Owen's "MERCY KILLING!", and Captain Jack's unforgettable face of empathic pain.
In the end, the right choice had to be Something Borrowed, not just because it represented sci fi at its most fat-headed and amateurish, but because it aired straight after the only episodes in the history of the show that didn't totally suck space ass. Reset was a fun episode that showed a spark of life, and the two subsequent episodes, while not anywhere near perfect, exhibited a willingness to tinker with the format. Regrettably, in a flurry of poorly choreographed gunplay, misjudged humour, and rampant ineptitude, all of that effort was erased, and Something Borrowed returned the show to its default position of Stupidest Thing on TV Not Involving Fearne Cotton, Jimmy Carr, or Simon Cowell. Meat might have been unintentionally funnier, but this made me laugh and depressed me simultaneously. Quite a trick. It's the sort of TV that poisons the soul, dulls the mind, and craps on the heart, and yet it is enormously, unfeasibly successful and adored. Go figger.
I think I might be able to milk this award-giving shtick out a bit further. Hey, it's easier than thinking!
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.
