Monsters of Television

“You’re a star. It’s just obvious.”

Three words for you: demographics, demographics, demographics. But more on those three words in a moment.

If the entire competition essentially boils down to who has the best pilot, and it seems to have done that, I must wonder why the show just didn’t do a tournament style pilot structure, showing pilot after pilot to focus groups, with the last pilot standing being the winner. I know that past performance weighed into the decision, but I’m willing to bet that the response of the focus group gave weighed in even more. Read more »

“Oh, I don’t know that I can be replaced.”

Constance’s line to Lydia, quoted above, kind of sums up all my feelings about Party Down as it finishes its second (and maybe (somewhat hopefully) last?) season. Lydia never found a groove with the rest of the characters, and the season never seemed to find its groove either. After the first couple of episodes of re-establishing Henry and Casey tension, and then committing to the relationship, everything kind of went adrift after that.

The season ultimately just struggled to be terrific (as season 1 is), with episodes that had moments or episodes that were those moments (thinking, of course, of The Gutte). And with this finale, it has all the air of a series finale and not a season finale. Read more »

“I’m sorry for needing you.”

Don’t cry, Hugh Laurie. Not every finale can be a homerun.

Seriously. If you liked this episode of House, I’m not sure we can be friends anymore.

Season finales on this show are events, the showrunners’ opportunity to fully utilize the talent they were blessed with in actors/characters, all the budget they can muster, and forward-thinking writers/producers. For instance, the big hullabaloo about this episode, from months ago, is that it was shot on a consumer-expensive DSLR, not a big honking HD camera. Interestingly, that was all anyone wanted to talk about when discussing the episode. Not the inevitable monkey wrench the finale would toss into the well-oiled machine that is the House formula, not what would happen to some of the characters. No, no. It was only about the Canon 5D. And I can imagine the reason was because no one wanted to talk about the actual content at all.

Because it stinks.

We’ve come to expect cliffhangers (a serious rarity on this show that we’ve come to expect) and heavy distortion of House’s vision of reality. Recall the episode where House was shot and he slipped in and out of subconsciousness or the one where he’s trying to figure out how he got on a bus with Amber (you know, the one with Fred Durst) or the one where drugs were making him hallucinate going through withdrawls with Cuddy by his side. I suppose now that he’s clean, we’re supposed to accept that these forays into the surreal would be obliterated by sober reality.

But who knew House’s actual life was so juvenile and miserably melodramatic?

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“I’m going to sing now.”

“Adam, stop doing your Taxi Driver impression. No one is talking to you.”

I had a hard time picking out an opening quote for this episode. There were so many choice lines from Max’s celebrations of Haddie’s new hair color (“You look like a panther. Or a vampire from Twilight.”) to characters asserting series theme-summations (“You be a man, dad” or “I consider myself too big to fail”). One of the goals when writing television/film is to temper realistic dialogue with dramatic substance. If it’s all “realistic,” it might come off “banter-y” (and, at times, robbing the emotion of a scene). If it’s all dramatic, it turns out to be a Nic Cage flick. A balance is necessary and has been a goal for this show from the beginning.

We’ve discussed the “Robert Altman scenes” between siblings in this series, scenes where the characters (typically the adult Braverman siblings) talk over each other, have natural cadence, and laugh at each other (a crime many shows commit, especially sit-coms, where people will say something funny but no one will laugh diegetically). The comfortable, conversational tone between them is often tempered by dramatic, sometimes poignant, scenes from the characters when they’re without the other siblings. This is a balance the series has been hoping to hone throughout this half-slate and this season finale is the culmination of that practice, an execution of character and narrative that shows real potential for next season. Although, I’m not sure where next season is going.

I think they might be writing Julia off.

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“Muah ha ha.”

Where does one buy villainous trenchcoats?

The spy procedural is based on the “unreliable witness.” Espionage, as a genre, involves a number of “agents” that can turn coat on a dime or, at the whim of the show’s authors, reveal themselves to have always been a double agent without precedent. No character can be trusted with anything. In fact, not even what the audience sees can be trusted since, often, what they see is a biased version of what is actually transpiring. Nothing is reliable, not even what the viewer can testify to seeing. The abilities of spies have risen to superhuman in order to either (a) cover up narrative holes or (b) make an audience believe that this network of subterfuge, obfuscation, and coolness is believable. Spies are the new superheroes because, with a gadget or some sleight of hand, maybe even the opportunity to slip off a dress at a moment’s notices, anything is possible. For reference, see Alias, Burn Notice, or Dollhouse (though the latter has its own complications with the supernatural/extraordinary).

Chuck started like a children’s version of the spy procedural: many of the tricks of the spy trade but with this elementary element that even a goofball can do the job, if a bit clumsily. Chuck as a character is proof that spies have been elevated to something that has normally needed a cape and underwear-on-the-outside-of-the-pants to designate its superiority. We have been led to believe that he is a normal guy given extraordinary power and that is the only way he could possibly compete on the same level as his fellow agents (Walker and Casey) that received “ordinary” spy training. The thread of Chuck’s normal life kept it grounded and almost made it a parody of all those spy procedurals that take themselves so seriously.

But Chuck has been growing up over the past season and a half and has reached a sort of awkward adolescence. While the ending to Season 3 packed a few punches, it is constantly wrestling with the spy procedural genre and that which kept it grounded, a thread that was spinning out of control, the two halves of the show diverging intensely. At the end of this episode, the show seems to have made a choice. And I can’t say it made the right one. Especially since it goes into next season with what might be some heavy intra-network competition.

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“Show me the plan.”

It feels like season finales this year are aiming more for epilogues to their seasons than final chapters, if such a distinction makes sense. Some of it is industrial, networks ordering extra episodes, either a little too late to be incorporated into the first bit of the season (like Chuck) or ordered a few more than was originally expected (like Community). As a result, episodes that seem to function like finales become the penultimates, resulting in episodes that don’t pack the finale punch.

The Good Wife isn’t too different. “Running” isn’t as fiery an episode as I found last week’s “Hybristophilia”, an episode that hits all those season finale requirements of character maneuvering and arc resolutions. Indeed, it seems like the show decided to devote an episode to each of its arcs: the law firm and Peter’s trial were resolved last week, and this week follows through on the romantic entanglements among characters as well as set up Peter’s political aims next season.

Perhaps my lack of engagement stems that I don’t find either arc as interesting as the ones last week (though Peter’s arcs are connected), or that there was little in the ways of suspense in either arc. And it also could be that this episode, for the first time since I started watching, had me wishing I had been watching since the first episode. Read more »

“We could go Dutch.”

Aside from Noel’s review, each of the writers for Monsters of Television will provide their takes on Lost, from their own perspectives. Below, Matt discusses the nostalgia the finale engaged and the love of his life, regardless of when or where, Juliet.

We the audience should approach our relationship with Lost the same way Sawyer and Juliet decide to treat their sideways date: meet in the middle. Of course not every question is going to be answered and no not everyone is going to be completely satisfied. We all have to give a little up but we’re sure to receive in return.

Before I dive in it’s probably important to note that I did enjoy the finale. Was it perfect? No. Was it what I expected? Hell no. It was different. After thinking about it and talking through it with members of my viewing party I realized the brilliance and forgave the things that I thought would make me rage. Perhaps I’m too much of a fanboy. But again I say it wasn’t perfect. My thoughts on “The End” can best be broken down into three words: nostalgia, unexpected, and Juliet. Read more »

“It’s just so much easier to let the Universe decide.”

Maybe that’s the mentality the show has decided to take, because it’s the only thing that makes sense. I imagine a conversation in the writers room goes something like this:

“So we get Robin and Barney together until Hippie Intern wears a tie!”

“Perfect!”

2 months later…

“Guys! Hippie Intern is wearing a tie!”

“Gotta break ’em up. Call Alan Thicke!”

Perhaps my annoyance at “Doppelgangers” is that I found the preceding episode to appear so promising, a return to form. And instead I get an episode where Ted dyes his hair, Barney ends up encouraging kids for Marshall and Lily (the true protagonists of this show, I’ve decided), and the show tries to pass this off as growth, but it’s growth the show can’t fully claim.
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“It’s possible. Have you ever read Archie comics?”

I’ve talked a bit about the frustration that 30 Rock and HIMYM have put me through this season, and how their respective lead-ups to their respective finales have made me (somewhat) forgiving of their ups and downs this season. The good news is that “I Do Do” (“Oh, grow up, Lemon.”) is a pretty solid end note for the inconsistent season. It’s just a little bit tricky to tell if I’m evaluating this on a curve, or if the episode was genuinely good in the classic 30 Rock sense (and can I say “classic 30 Rock after 4 seasons?).

But the episode remains a delightful one. And with its move to 8:30, behind Community, next season, it at least means I can turn off NBC after 9:00. Thank goodness. Read more »

“Do you try to evolve, or do you try to know what you are?”

Community is a show that became better as it went along. It was rough going until “Intro to Statistics” (better known as the Halloween episode) and the show hit its stride, figuring out that its voice is ultimately highly referential comedy that also picks apart the sitcom genre. It’s an exciting place to position yourself because so few sitcoms really want to acknowledge their genre, and the ones that do are the animated ones that can do really wacky things (The Simpsons, Family Guy).

But underlining all of that is that the show often still wears its heart on its sleeve, so no matter how meta and snarky it might get, there was always a take away at the end of the episode, something that grounded the episode beyond the hijinks (I’ve written about this ad nauseum). And show how has managed to balance those elements and bring them together into a coherent whole: much like Pascal’s triangle, the snark and the heart add up to equal Community (this is as strong as my math metaphors get).

However, “Pascal’s Triangle Revisited” can’t quite find that balance, and suffers a bit as a result. Read more »