So, I decided to give myself a day off. Came home Thursday night and skipping my class on Friday. Why not? WHY NOT!! I am a rebel. I am fucking James Dean. Yeah, anyways, I have been getting so lazy lately that I hope I can keep up this whole “get-straights-A’s-so-I-can-get-into-medical-school-so-all-this-studying-will-have-been-for-something” thing. I wasted about 6 hours in the last two days watching FlashForward, which is officially my new obsession. Okay, I PROMISE it’s not just because John Cho is so intensely gorgeous.

This show is genuinely thrilling, provocative, and makes you think. How would you live your life after a global disaster where everyone has seen their future in 6 months? Accept the future as fact? Dread it? Obsess over it? Wonder if our lives are scripts that have already been written? Very intriguing stuff. The show was beginning to get frustrating with everyone  being little whiny bitches about their doomed futures until the end of the latest episode; one character who had a really bad flashforward kills himself. But his flashforward said he would be alive in 6 months! The future isn’t written in stone?! Great acting, and John Cho + Gabrielle Union = coolest interracial couple ever. Bonus, the British guy from The Wedding Date, Singles, and Swingtown! So that is what I have been doing instead of crapping my pants over Biochem. Time well spent. This magical day off and this weekend may require a lot of studying, but it’s still awesome. I am home right now, in front of a fireplace, and realizing I have been a little homesick. Despite my monosyllabic responses to my parents, I do love them. And it took my nearly two and a half years in college to realize that. Or maybe I just want to watch FlashForward on our flatscreen.

The Wife:

Flash Forward, at its core, is a show about epistemology. When everyone in the world blacks out for 2 minutes and 17 seconds, each having their own vision of what they believe to be the future, the show asks its characters and viewers to constantly question the knowledge we’re being given:

• How do we know these are flashes of the future, and not something else, despite the fact that everyone flashed forward to the same date, April 29, 2010?
• How do we acquire the knowledge/facts to help us determine what we think we know?
• What is truth, belief or conjecture?

And from these central questions of epistemics, the show branches out into a Lostian exploration of fate and destiny, asking whether or not they exist, if the future can be changed and how much control we can exert over a predetermined course.

So far, I am into it. It’s slightly more penetrable than Lost, but still contains that show’s crucial elements of action, human drama and mystery to keep up interest in the show. Lost was reinvigorated when it introduced the flash forward structure at the end of season 3, and I like the idea of this show also having a similar endgame. It’s nice to know, as a viewer, that your showrunners have an idea of where they’re going and the experience of finding out if the flash forwards will come to pass is the same for us as it is for the characters on the show.

Because of that, we’re learning things in time with the characters, so all we know at this point regarding what may have caused the blackout is that there is a person of interest called D. Gibbons (who stole the credit card of DiDi Gibbons of DiDelicious Cupcakes) who was working on some major hack in a creepy-ass doll factory, and who made a call 30 seconds into the blackout to the only known person to not fall asleep: a man at a Detroit Tigers game, veiled in black, who walked away nonchalantly as if he knew this would happen. (For my money, I am sure he will be played by Dominic Monaghan, as I know my favorite hobbit has a deal to appear on this show and hasn’t yet done so.)

Lost in time, lost in space . . . and meaning.

By the end of the second episode, we’ve unveiled almost all of the symbols on the flash of the Mosaic board that Joseph Fiennes’s Mark Benford was putting together in the future: we’ve seen the friendship bracelet his daughter gives him, the name D. Gibbons, the crime scene photo of the burned baby doll, but not yet the blue hand or the man with the star tattoos. John Cho’s Demitri Noh learns that there are other people who saw nothing in the blackout, but not five minutes after meeting one, she dies. He also receives a phone call from someone in Shanghai (I think) (Husband Note: It’s Hong Kong, but I shall correct my wife instead of editing the right answer in because I’m MEAAAAAN!) informing him that she was reading a report of his death in her flash forward, on March 15, 2010. Sonya Walger’s Olivia meets the man with whom she’ll have an affair (Swingtown’s Jack Davenport, using his natural accent), and her daughter Charlie recognizes Davenport’s son from her flash forward.

It’s too early for us to start building Lostian theories about the nature of the “future” or even what we think we know here, but I’m sure we’ll find out next week if Benford burning his daughter’s friendship bracelet has any effect on the future. If this show were to take a banal turn, I’d expect that little Charlie would just keep making them for her daddy, constantly, feeling hurt each time she saw him without it.

Stray thoughts:

• How good was the opening of the pilot episode? The simplest images stood out: the balloons floating away, the kangaroo on the loose. These were a lovely, almost surrealist expression of the disjointedness of life after a disaster.
• Speaking of which, has anyone ever seen children playing make-believe versions of disasters on the playground? Watching a bunch of children play “blackout” while “Ring Around the Rosy” sang out was terrifically creepy, as was the repetition of the song in the doll factory. I ask about the validity of this exercise because, while I understand the notion of communal play acting as a method of coping, I don’t remember ever play acting those kind of current events as a child. We play acted the 1994 Lillehammer games, where the worst thing that happened was Nancy Kerrigan’s knee getting bashed in by Tonya Harding.
• Can Sonya Walger now only play women with children named Charlie?
• Nice FBI agent cameo, Seth McFarlane! (Husband Note: He’s coming back, which further pisses off everybody who hates his funny shows.)
• Seeing Joseph Fiennes on TV makes me mourn the unwanted pilot that was Ryan Murphy’s Pretty/Handsome, which was to be an F/X series about a man struggling with a gender identity crisis. The trailer for it was lovely, and I’m sure you can find it on YouTube. But know that when I try to see Fiennes as an FBI agent, I have a really hard time because I think of him surreptitiously fondling silk panties or, of course, unwrapping Gwyneth Paltrow’s bubbies.

The Husband:

The mystery is there, but the characters aren’t. The show has picked up some bizarre backlash in only its second week (with major complaints about Courtney B. Vance’s comic relief bathroom blackout story), but I think that’s just a gut reaction to having yet another deep mystery show on primetime, and this time people have their guard up. The themes and general questions being thrown about are, without question, fascinating, but I can understand some people being frustrated by some very one-dimensional character work. Right now, I’m only feeling Sonya Walger as far as emotions are concerned, because it’s tough for the rest of the show to work its procedural angle without losing some major character time, something from which most procedurals that aren’t named Bones tend to suffer. (But hey, at least Demitri Noh is an awesome name.)

But I’m not hating on the series so much as being distracted by my complete lack of connection, and after the first sequence of “holy shit,” things have settled into a procedural groove a tad too quickly.

The showrunners and writers must have a lot of information up their sleeves, because right now they’re racing through this mofo. Give me a reason to care other than the central conceit itself. Because I’m there, but I don’t know if others will stick around.

Estos días hemos ido conociendo varias informaciones que cuentan que Telecinco ha adquirido los derechos de varias ficciones americanas y que planea emitir en breve otras.

Esta semana Factoría de Ficción comenzará a emitir dos nuevas series. Por un lado ‘La plantación’ (‘Cane’), y por otro ‘Swingtown’. Ambas series pertenecieron al canal CBS y fracasaron en audiencias, lo que las llevó a tener pocos episodios. Por ello podemos pensar que Telecinco tal vez haya adquirido estas series en algún pack y va a darle salida ahora por medio de los canales secundarios.

Por otro lado, la cadena ha anunciado la varias series de las que se desconoce en qué canal y franja tienen pensado emitir.

Se trata de dos series muy actuales. ‘Royal Pains’ se ha estrenado este verano en el canal de cable americano USA Network y está teniendo relativamente buena acogida. Al ser una serie de cable consta de menos episodios por temporada por lo que también podría acabar en la TDT.

En cambio, la otra adquisición, ‘Trauma’, tiene más posibilidades de acabar en el canal principal. Se trata de una de las grandes apuestas de la temporada de la NBC, y si resulta ser una serie solvente, podría convertirse en una buena compañera de parrilla en Telecinco para ‘CSI: Las Vegas’, ya que su anterior partenaire, ‘Life’, ya fue emitida íntegramente y no tendrá nuevos episodios.

Y a esto hay que sumar ‘Mujeres de Manhattan’, que desde hace tiempo se sabe que se emitirá en uno de los canales secundarios de Telecinco.

Además se ha hecho con la miniserie ‘Alice’ y otros títulos como ‘Cortez’, ‘El último viaje de Sinbad’, ‘Jurassic canyon’ y ‘Planeta Tierra: conspiración’, que irían destinadas a los fines de semana por la tarde o los canales TDT.

Something you will come to learn about me is that I am crazy obsessed with the television. I watch at least one episode of something daily, even if I don’t have to watch one, I will play one  in the background using Hulu. Right now I am listening to “Bewitched!”

(Image courtesy mptvimages.com)

When I finish writing this I will watch last night’s “Army Wives.” My favorite thing about television is watching the stories unfold. I love to watch the characters and can’t wait to see what happens next! So you can imagine my frustration when one of my shows get canceled. I can’t help but sit and wonder what is going to happen to the characters next? I just want more. I understand the television companies can’t broadcast more episodes just for me, but why not write books continuing the stories? The cost is not anywhere near that of having another season, one would assume, and they will sell, once more an assumption. I am  not saying every show would require this. Some shows had a perfectly suitable ending that gave the viewer closure. For example, when “Pushing Daisies” was cancelled ABC ordered a few more episodes and were able to close the story successfully. I know that Emerson ended up with his daughter, Chuck was able to tell her aunts that was she alive and she obviously will spend her days with Ned, even Olive ended up with a beau.

( I secretly wished they would have kissed in the last episode.)

What drives me crazy are when shows like, “October Road,”

(Photo by ABC/Art Streiber)

"Swingtown,"

“Lipstick Jungle,”

and “The Riches,”

there are way more but I won’t bore you, get cancelled without an ending. It leaves the viewer wanting more and I assume, once more, that they would spend the $7.00 on a book to get it. I know I am not the only one that would want this. Heck, if I were a good enough writer I would do it myself. Actually the more I think about it, maybe I should take a stab at  it……

Karen

The 1970s was such a period of change that the-powers-that-be apparently decided a change of venue was necessary, sending the swingers SWINGTOWN out of town to sample the wildlife in the wilds of Wisconsin. (I am beginning to think this show makes ONE TREE HILL look subtle.)

It was time for the Millers’ annual getaway with the Thompsons, but after learning just how…uh, open-minded Bruce and Susan are, Roger faked the flu and canceled. Naturally Susan invited Tom and Trina to join them, and the foursome hit the road for some fresh air and fun in the great outdoors. But, this being SWINGTOWN, Janet and Roger suddenly change their minds and show up anyway. And, as usual, the Thompsons act surprised when the Millers are busy with the Deckers. What was life like before Bruce and Susan moved — did the Thompsons just live there? That must have saved time. I’m sure they took dance lessons to prepare for all the times they “waltzed in” in their neighbors.

While the parents were away, the kids were getting into their own mischief: Samantha showed Ricky and B.J. how to break into the Decker place to use their pool and drink their booze. Meanwhile, Laurie, who was supposed to be watching the boys, spent time trying to lure her teacher over for dinner and a movie. The bill includedDouble Indemnity, and while Laurie was busy complaining that Barbara Stanwyck’s character was a powerful woman portrayed as an evil entity who led poor Fred MacMurray astray, she didn’t notice that she herself was trying to lure Mr. Stevens astray (and likely into a jail cell!). I guess the obvious isn’t obvious to everyone.

Meanwhile, back in the backwoods. Trina and Janet bared their claws for a catfight (but, despite the premise of the show, not that kind of catfight) and the enmity infected everyone to the point where the weekend was going to be ruined. That’s when Trina decided to give everyone a chill pill. Well, not a pill per se, but she decided to spike Janet’s famous brownie batter with a little “herbal enhancement.” If you find the concept of pot brownies intriguing, watch the DVD of 1968’s I Love You, Alice B. Toklas to see a much better (and hilarious) treatment of the adult treat. Immortal genius Peter Sellers plays a middle-aged man who falls in love with a hippie chick and decides to drop out with the aid of some “groovy” brownies. (Who else is going to tell you this kind of stuff?)

Then came another “twist”: Trina suggested playing Twister. (Get it, because their relationships are all tangled? Oh, you do get it, and don’t need me pointing out the obvious?) Then you also noticed that Melanie’s “Brand New Key” told us that this is something different for Janet. When she and the similarly…uh, relaxed, addled Roger joined in the group skinny-dipping, you might say that all secrets were laid bare. (Youmight say that, but I wouldn’t, LOL.) And for a show ostensibly about group sex, the naked swimming sequence showed the most skin by far — which isn’t saying much.

Of course there had to be a morning after (and why wasn’t that song on the soundtrack?) for Janet to backtrack after waking up in the same bed with Trina, so once again everyone felt awkward and wanted to leave. By the time all three couples were laughing again and sharing breakfast, I had to wonder what Trina slipped into Janet’s pancake batter.

And if you’re wondering what will be in the next installment of Night Shift check back on Monday…

Originally posted on Soap Opera Weekly.com

Hmmm, it seems SWINGTOWN’s Susan got religion — literally. She insisted on saying grace before breakfast and attending church. What brought this on? Could be that she saw her husband, Bruce, kissing Sylvia last week and finding a business card with her phone number? Or is it just plain old remorse over dipping her toe into the dating pool of swingers? Yep, that’s it: Furious, she tells her husband “Sex has consequences.” (And this was a decade before AIDS and the “safe sex” crusades.)

Grant Show is great at portraying Tom as smarmy but not threatening. He’s seems like the friendly “perv next door.”

Commercial digression: The first break includes an ad for a pain-reliever (I’m not naming it; buy an ad on this page, Mr. Pharmaceutical Maker!) that mentions Woodstock, and the next features a hair dye for men (boasting Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love,” no less!) and another version of the pain-pill spot. I’m sensing a theme…

One of the themes on the episode was privacy, expressed through a home-movie camera Tom and Trina used to capture “everything” they do (wink-wink). The Deckers even gifted the Millers with a camera of their own. Paul Simon’s “Kodachrome” (about 35mm film) was also used on the show’s typically unsubtle soundtrack. Meanwhile, the battle for Susan’s attention (or, more figuratively, her soul) between Trina and old pal Janet reached a head when the two women got into a tug-of-war over a platter of Swedish meatballs. The struggle leads to Susan’s simmering sense of unease boiling over, so she rips down some hideous wallpaper she hates (it was put up by the previous owners and thus symbolized the past) and adjusted her dress to bare her shoulders; both acts thus “uncovering” the “new” Susan. She is woman, hear her roar. Samantha, the tough girl next door, continued to hold young B.J. spellbound, and perfectly encapsulated Janet’s feelings: “It sucks when you’re the one left behind.” It doesn’t matter if your own mother doesn’t recognize you or your best friend is becoming unrecognizably herself — it still hurts.

Laurie continued her pursuit of teacher Mr. Stevens. This week she managed to actually kiss him while Bob Dylan’s “It Ain’t Me Babe” played. (BTW, if you like this song, skip Dylan’s version and go for the 1965 cover by The Turtles, which features, y’know, good singing; Dylan could write, but dude, c’mon his voice is an acquired taste…) CBS makes note several times that a lot of the music from each episode (though not all the tunes) are available at www.last.fm/swingtown.

The episode wrapped with Susan resolving her guilt by opting for a policy of honesty in her marriage with Bruce. She wants “all options on the table,” and for them to be completely open with each other. Honestly, what’s more soapy (and clichéd) than the ol’ “No more secrets/lies” pledge? That never goes well. I give Bruce and Susan until about 20 minutes into the next episode before somebody has a secret.

But it’s no secret that I will be back with the next installment of Night Shift…

Originally posted on Soap Opera Weekly.com

While I have always been a fan of time-travel stories, the 1970s was never even close to being my favorite era to visit. It still isn’t, but I must admit that SWINGTOWN is actually making me hate the ’70s less! 

Although set in the “Me Decade,” SWINGTOWN makes free use of modern storytelling tropes — for good and ill. First the good: The “opening dream sequence,” in which viewers think they’re seeing something shocking only to have it revealed as a dream. In this case, the episode opens with Janet baking a pie and then succumbing to the shirtless charms of swinger Tom (Grant Show, ex-Jake, MELROSE PLACE). Yes, I agree that it’s shocking: Janet is so wholesome and square, that she dreams of apple pie! Well, at least it wasn’t baked with rotten apples or anything symbolic like that. Janet’s pie does reappear at the end of the episode, symbolizing Janet’s bid to pull Susan back from the brink of depravity, but we’ll come back to that…. Janet might not need to fear, since Susan insisted to hubby Bruce, “We’re not swingers.” It doesn’t matter if the soundtrack was playing Blue Suede’s “Hooked on a Feeling” — the Millers have vowed not to get hooked on swinging with the Deckers. 

We get another glimpse of airline pilot Tom Decker at work when his boss summons him to headquarters and scolds him for swinging with some of the stewardesses — because that might offend “women’s libbers.” Wow, I didn’t think they had political correctness and corporate sexual-harassment policies back in 1976! Turns out they didn’t. Bossman was just pranking Tom. In fact, Capt. Tom is getting a promotion to the Tokyo run! This sequence was an entertaining way to teach/remind viewers that social mores were very different back then, without lecturing. 

When the camera returned to the neighborhood, I noticed that the lighting was very flat and the color scheme consisted of a lot of muted browns. In fact, it all looked a lot like reruns of vintage sitcoms, or sort of like a faded Polaroid instant photograph (Kids, ask your grandparents!). All this made the images damned ugly (especially factoring in the hideous hair and fashions — ugh!) but really effective in conjuring a sense of time and place. 

Second episodes are an opportunity for the-powers-that-be to start fleshing out characters, but what I saw was more of the same from Trina: Is she always going to be on the prowl? Her face lit up when Susan introduced her to daughter Laurie. (Nowadays, Trina would be called a predator and introduced to TO CATCH A PREDATOR’s Chris Hanson. Come to think of it, so would Laurie’s teacher, Mr. Stephens, who invites her to a feminist production of Waiting for Godot.) The Millers’ sympathetic son B.J. has already fallen for troubled neighbor Samantha, so he spends his allowance to buy her camping gear when she runs away from home. The saddest moment of the night came when B.J. told her that her mother hasn’t even noticed she’s gone. 

The evening’s action quickly moved to the Playboy Club, where Bruce’s boorish boss celebrated Bruce’s success trading Standard Oil on the commodities exchange (sothat’s what he does…). Luckily Tom has a key, so he, Trina and Susan can get into the club, where — as The Emotions’s “Best of My Love” played — the Deckers ran into some old swinging partners: Sylvia and Brad, played by THE L WORD’s Erin Daniels (Dana) and Mark Valley (ex-Jack, DAYS OF OUR LIVES). Is it a coincidence that Valley’s old character on BOSTON LEGAL was also named Brad? 

There was a funny bit when Laurie’s thick-headed boyfriend, Logan (Was that a male name in common usage way back then?), gave her an Aerosmith album (“Rocks”). I wonder how many viewers watched that and asked their parents what that “giant thing” was. It was an “LP,” which stood for Long-Playing album. One had to get up, walk over to the “record player,” and flip it over when the music stopped. Silly, I know, but hey — jogging was in vogue, and there were only three TV channels, so people had to do something with their time other than taking the Bee Gees’ advice — “You Should be Dancing” — and boogeying at the local disco.… 

Attorney Sylvia is a “women’s lib” character — as a former Playboy bunny herself, she unionized the local hutch and put herself through law school, so she didn’t see the cocktail waitress job as exploitive. Of course she stopped short of the 21st-century view of sexuality that holds women are empowered by wielding their sex appeal in occupations such as stripper or porn star, but, hey, the sexual revolution had to start somewhere. The Playboy Clubs have since been replaced by strip clubs full of “empowered women” shaking their…er, cotton tails. 

Keeping the open-minded theme going, Trina makes a point to tell Susan that she and Tom are not trying to force Susan and Bruce into the swinging lifestyle; it’s all about free will. Susan’s old pal Janet, however, is trying to keep Susan in her old, familiar rut. She baked Susan an apple pie (I promised that pie would be back…) and left it on the stoop, but came to the realization that Susan had left her behind. Not even playing “Love Will Find a Way” could convince her Susan would find her way back to the old neighborhood. 

Remember when I suggested that SWINGTOWN uses modern storytelling techniques for good and ill? The “ill” comes at the end, when the show succumbs to the de rigueur closing musical montage (Damn you, DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES! Damn you all to hell!), but at least SWINGTOWN resists using a closing narration. The last thing this show needs is the overwrought, middle-school-girl’s-diary philosophizing of DESPERATE or the overly glossy patina of nostalgia like THE WONDER YEARS. 

And with that, I close this edition of Night Shift and wonder what, er, wonders tonight’s summer finale of BATTLESTAR GALACTICA will bring. Will D’Anna keeps her promise to reveal the identities of the Final Five models? In case she does, my prediction for the 12th model (and it is only a guess based on my careful viewing) is: Kara “Starbuck” Thrace.

Originally posted on Soap Opera Weekly.com

SWINGTOWN, the new nighttime soap on CBS, is set in 1976 — and, ironically, this show never could have aired back in the actual ’70s. In fact, there is some debate over whether it can air in 200 … at least on CBS. 

Norman Greenbaum’s “Spirit in the Sky” helped viewers get into the Spirit of ‘76 … 1976, to be exact. SWINGTOWN did a pretty good job of transporting me to the “Me Decade” — complete with authentic-looking bad hair and even worse clothes, as well as period cars, soda cans and supermarket prices (88 cents for a pound of ground beef!). We quickly meet Tom Decker (played by Grant Show, ex-Jake, MELROSE PLACE), who is an airline pilot, the quintessential macho stud job back then. (Why do you think Quagmire on FAMILY GUY is an airline pilot?) Tom and his stewardess wife, Trina (Lana Parilla, seen in bit parts in LOST and 24) have an “open marriage,” meaning they are swingers. Which is convenient, because Bruce (Jack Davenport, the starchy Norrington in those Pirates of the Caribbean movies) and Susan (Molly Parker, ex-Alma, DEADWOOD) Miller have just moved in across the street, and hey, they are curious about what life in a new neighborhood has to offer. 

Right from the beginning, this show is smirky, broad and almost painfully obvious — what else can you say about program when its opening scene consists of an oral sex sight gag? Having Bruce and Susan moving into a new house is an unsubtle metaphor for the changes sweeping through society in the ’70s. Trina all but drools as she watches the neighborhood newbies roll into the house across the street. Later, the look on Susan’s face when she and Bruce arrive at Tom and Trina’s party, is similar to Dorothy’s when she steps into the Technicolor Land of Oz in The Wizard of Oz: She’s not in Kansas anymore. (Sorry for the obvious joke, but…well, I am talking about anvil storytelling.) 

The heaviest of the anvils are the songs, which drop fast and furious: Tom chased Susan around their new house to the tune of Redbone’s “Come and Get Your Love” (get it?). When Susan reached out to call her old friend Janet, Captain & Tennille’s “Love Will Keep Us Together” was playing. Oddly, the show did not use perhaps the most obvious song of all, The Steve Miller Band’s “Swingtown.” (Must have been a licensing issue.) Chicago’s “Saturday in the Park” emanated from an 8-track tape deck in a convertible at a block party! The emphasis on contemporary music made me think of Boogie Nights, which also employed The Commodores‘ iconic “Machine Gun.” It is all too common to catch period pieces using music as a crutch; have you ever seen a Vietnam movie that didn’t employ Creedence’s “Fortunate Son”? (Okay,John Wayne’s The Green Berets — any others?) But this foible can be overlooked as long as the music is entertaining. 

When the Millers’ daughter, Laurie, is introduced, David Bowie’s “Golden Years” reminds us that she’s part of that precious teen demographic. In the hallowed tradition of ’70s teens, she talks about sex, but instead of winking double-entrendres, she comes right and says stuff. And, in easily the most shocking scene of the premiere, Laurie is seen smoking pot. Yes, illegal drug use by a (presumed) minor. The parents get in on the act (it is the ’70s), but Laurie’s recreational practice will no doubt bring out the whackos to call down fire-and-brimstone on CBS for airing this show. (Just for good measure, Laurie has a crush on her teacher, Mr. Stevens.) 

But, hey, the series is supposed to be showing us the permissive ’70s, and that sort of thing went on back then, and America is still here. Trina defends having an open marriage as “the opposite of cheating,” because there is no sneaking around, no lying, no conflict; everything is out in the open. Including things like rampant drug use: in addition to marijuana, cocaine and Quaaludes make appearances. The morning after the first wife-swapping session, we hear Johnny Nash’s “I Can See Clearly Now” because Bruce and Susan have had their eyes opened. 

Not that the home viewers got any eyefuls. This is 2008, so not everything is out in the open. Modern society actually seems much more prudish about sex, so the “open marriage” aspect (which seems so vital to the very premise of the show) is suppressed. When repressed Janet blunders into the basement “playroom,” we see a close-up of a man and two women, and we’re supposed to assume they are engaged in some kind of orgy — however, since only a couple of inches of skin is visible, it’s difficult to tell what — if anything — is going on. But since Janet was flabbergasted, we assume it was naughty. 

And SWINGTOWN is hoping viewers do a lot of assuming. In fact, the audience is expected to do all of the heavy lifting when it comes to the wife-swapping and group sex: since nothing is shown, we viewers must imgine what goes on when Tom & Trina and Bruce & Susan sashay behind closed doors together. The raciest bit comes when Trina and Susan briefly clasp hands and touch Susan’s knee. (Are you hot yet?) In a way, it’s fitting that SWINGTOWN is on CBS, the oldest-skewing network, because the audience has to be mature enough to figure out what the show is hinting at and wink back. If, indeed, protests do spring up in response to the sexual innuendo, it will all be in the protesters’ minds — because it sure wasn’t on the small screen. 

You’ll find out what happened on the small screen tonight (DOCTOR WHO and BATTLESTAR GALACTICA — yay!) in the next Night Shift…

Originally posted on Soap Opera Weekly.com

“My name is Beth and I am a Netflix Addict. It’s been five minutes since my last Showtime Series.”

It’s true. Now that I can watch Netflix on my computer, I’ve seen the first season of Californication, Swingtown and am well into the first season of Hotel Babylon in no time at all. All great shows but my main focus here is Swingtown from the director of “Big Love” and “Rome.”

Let’s all dive back into the 70s where there was really a chance you might get to sleep with your neighbor’s wife. The wife swapping, the groovy clothes, the cocaine, the HUSTLE! It’s all there, but the show does a great job of developing the characters and making it funny and crazy without looking like Hustler magazine. A great insight to the sexual revolution and women’s struggling to become equals with their husbands and move out into the working world.

I am a fan of Molly Parker who played Alma Garret, a rich woman who inherited her murdered husband’s gold claim on Deadwood and not just because she reminds me of my old friend Hissy Fit. The main swinger lady reminds me of one of my best friends, Christina Cagle aka Satina. The clothes and music are great. A battle between the June Cleavers of the world and the ladies who want a little more. Unfortunatley, there is only one season of Swingtown despite efforts to bring it back and you will want to know what happens after episode 13!

I have always intended to write in this space about new TV shows as well as old ones.  Since my blog debuted, though, the networks (and even the cable channels) have stymied that plan by offering up two of the most uninspired television seasons in history.  But my friend Stuart Galbraith’s recent review of the most recent season of 24 (the only one I haven’t yet seen), plus my own sideswipe at neo-con 24 writer-producer Manny Coto, have gotten me thinking about that series again.  So perhaps that’s a place to start.

Two years ago Jane Mayer’s New Yorker article cast a baleful eye upon the popular Fox action serial in which shady government operative Jack Bauer (Kiefer Sutherland) plows a lethal, annual real-time path through an array of terrorists bent on blowing up America.  (So far we have glimpsed only 168 hours of Bauer’s life, during which he has saved the world seven times – an impressive average.)  For anyone who has qualms about the moral implications of 24, it’s cathartic to see Mayer expose the show’s co-creator, Joel Surnow, as a cigar-smoking, Rush Limbaugh’s ass-kissing, John Milius-wannabe buffoon.  Memo to Mr. Surnow: John Milius wouldn’t be caught dead sporting a soul patch. 

But Mayer is a political, not an entertainment, reporter.  The revelation of Surnow’s politics (and those of fellow 24 writer/producer Manny Coto) is her main “gotcha,” but the more substantial point Mayer makes is that the storytelling of 24 relies heavily upon torture and the trampling of civil rights.  That was hardly news to regular 24 viewers, but Mayer’s evidence that military and law enforcement recruits have begun to see the show as justification for brutality in their work gave many pause.  Just as the mafiosi of past generations copied their style from James Cagney or The Godfather, today’s real-life spooks may be aping Jack Bauer’s moves.

As a television historian, I’m intrigued by one idea which remains implicit in Mayer’s reporting.  I suspect that 24’s torture fetish is more practical than ideological.  This is borne out by the amusing quotes from actor Kiefer Sutherland and producer Howard Gordon, who tie themselves in knots trying to reconcile their own liberal or moderate opinions with the series’ hawkish reputation.

In 24, torture operates primarily as an expository device.  Mayer, and the experts she quotes, point out that violent coercion always works on 24.   It always provides reliable intelligence, always averts deadly disasters in time.  Joel Surnow would be happy to have you accept this aspect of his show as an aesthetic affirmation of Bush’s torture policies.  But I believe the real reason for all the torture in 24 is simply that it’s the only way to move the story from point A to point B.  24 functions as a succession of suspenseful set pieces, and in order to activate the next one, some new bit of exposition must be gleaned at the end of the previous arc.  There are interrogation methods other than torture – many of them mentioned by Mayer – but all of them take longer than a real-time drama can afford.  Ergo, lots and lots of busted kneecaps and electroshock.  24’s failures of compassion are secondary to its failures of imagination.

It’s easy for op-ed writers to opine about  the supposed politics of a television show when it happens to intersect with the zeitgeist.  But most of the time, television’s politics are just opportunistic.  Only a tiny handful of American series (The Defenders, M*A*S*H, The West Wing) have actually expressed a coherent political point of view, and I can’t think of any that you could call radical (either to the right or the left).  Law and Order is my favorite example: it’s often perceived as a right-leaning show, and in general its focus on cops and prosecutors leads to a knee-jerk pro-law and order stance.  But Dick Wolf has always shifted shrewdly with the political breeze – installing liberal district attorneys for the Clinton and Obama eras, a conservative one for the Bush years – and Law and Order nurses a streak of Dickensian, populist contempt for the wealthy and powerful that muddies its ideology.  Wherever the story goes, the politics follow. 

What I enjoy about 24 are the tangential elements: the taut direction; the drab, sun-battered San Fernando Valley locations; and Sutherland’s sweaty, tamped-down portrayal Jack Bauer, a welcome relief from the Schwarzenegger/Willis model of over-the-top movie action hero.  But I suspect that most fans get pulled into the show by the storylines that I find silly and repetitive. 

In the New Yorker, Mayer laid out how 24’s overuse of race-against-time threats that rarely, if ever, occur in real life represent a straw-man argument for the efficacy of torture.  Her argument complements a point articulated in Adam Curtis’s 2004 BBC documentary The Power of Nightmares, which can also be taken as an extended rebuke to 24.  Curtis makes a persuasive case that the idea of an organized global network of terrorism is a fiction maintained by fear-mongering politicians in order to command the allegiance of the public.  People who believe the lies cling to hawks like Bush and Cheney in order to feel safe, and I think that’s why 24 has found an audience, too.  Across its seven cycles, 24 exhibits a horrorshow of worst-case scenarios with unconcealed glee: political assassinations, dirty bombs, missing nukes, flesh-eating bioterror microbes on the rampage in downtown L.A.  Emotionally, 24 scores by eliciting a vicarious, tenuous sense of relief that looming real-world threats to our personal safety may come to pass tomorrow, but did not do so today.  What eludes me is why such a masochistic ritual appeals to so many people.

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Meanwhile, I’ve been watching Swingtown, the show about wife-swapping during the Bicentennial summer that was already a lame duck when it aired last year.  Swingtown was a curious venture for CBS, not just because the network hasn’t successfully nurtured a serious drama in nearly a decade, but also because it covers such familiar territory.  What is there about suburban banality that hasn’t already been sliced and microscoped on Weeds or Desperate Housewives or Big Love or Mad Men or The Riches? 

Not much, it turns out.  Swingtown has a solid B+ pedigree; it was created by writer Mike Kelley (ex-The O.C.) and executive produced by director Alan Poul (ex-Six Feet Under).  But Swingtown borrows a great deal from Ang Lee and James Schamus’s The Ice Storm, albeit ten years later and fatally watered down for prime-time.  Kelley’s creation, set in a Chicago commuter town, has a cul-de-sac full of stereotypes: prudish Stepford wife best friend; coke-whore single mom; precocious teen with a crush on her teacher.  But so far (I’m around the half-way point) there has been no single iconic image with the resonance of Christina Ricci’s teen nymphette in a Nixon mask.

There are two good reasons to watch Swingtown: its leading ladies.  (There are men in Swingtown too, but I’ve already forgotten them.)  Since I first noticed her on Boomtown, Lana Parrilla has passed through several series (including 24) without leaving much of an impression.  Here she finally has a chance to shine as Trina, the predatory swinger superwoman who is as at home in the kitchen, whipping up a perfect fondue,  as she is in bed with two men.  Parrilla is ravishingly sexy and confident, and more committed than the rest of the cast to the authentic seventies hairdos. 

But the star here is Molly Parker, playing a thirtysomething housewife and mother who discovers an unexpected restlessness within herself after she’s exposed to Trina and her hedonistic circle.  The main thrust of Swingtown is Susan Decker’s awakening, to sexual experimentation and also to some of the ideas and practical applications of feminism.  I was afraid that Parker would offer just a caricature of female repression; it’s well within her range, and the early episodes don’t help her much with ridiculous scenes like the one where Susan gets flustered by all the sexy talk and drags the family straight off to church.  But Parker understands that we want to see her break through.  She has a natural languor, but also the ability to turn on a kind of inner radiance at just the right moments.  A fearless indie film star (see Wayne Wang’s The Center of the World, for one), Parker descended into television via Deadwood, and it’s especially exhilarating to see her freed from the straitjacket of David Milch’s pretentious pseudo-Shakespearean dialect.  Mostly she’s way ahead of the writing in Swingtown, but there’s a real joy in watching her light up any time the prospect of liberation presents itself. 

The real test of a show about sexual freedom is probably whether or not it comes off as sex-positive, and this is where Swingtown may have suffered from being on CBS instead of cable.  For one thing, it can’t depict an actual orgy; instead there are quick cutaways to a shirtless extra with two (clothed) babes cooing in his ear, a scene so chaste it could be an outtake from a deodorant commercial.  At one point Trina’s husband entreats her to talk dirty to him, and the camera whoosh-pans away from Parrilla with her mouth hanging open, before she can get the first word out. 

Not being able to show (or even talk about) the central subject is handicap enough, but even as pure plot Swingtown stalls on the wife-swapping.  Susan and her husband enjoy a polite gangbang with the neighbors at the climax of the pilot, but by the seventh episode, a second hookup remains conspicuous in its absence.  One particularly grating tactic for throwing cold water on everyone is the character of Susan’s straitlaced “old” best friend Janet (Miriam Shor, in a cripplingly weak performance that equates repression with a robotic speech pattern), who has a habit of showing up whenever Susan (or anyone else) starts to feel naughty. 

Maybe this is just a conservative narrative strategy – once Susan and spouse go all the way, the show has shot its wad, as it were – but it smacks of another kind of conservatism, too.  There’s an aspect of class consciousness nestled at the base of Swingtown’s premise that remains revealingly underdeveloped.  Susan’s transformative odyssey begins only when she and her family move to a pointedly wealthier neighborhood.  Swingtown math: financial prosperity (Trina) equals decadence; relative poverty (Janet) equals inhibition and intolerance.  But surely there’s a happy, middlebrow, censor-appeasing, baby boomer-CBS-audience-satisfying compromise somewhere along that sliding scale, right?

I’m reminded of a Night Court episode from the eighties in which a guy has just awakened from a twenty-year coma.  “What about the sexual revolution – is it over?” he asks innocently.  Marsha Warfield’s no-nonsense bailiff looks at him pityingly and says, “Ohhhhh, yeah.”  (I’ve paraphrased that exchange from memory.)  Swingtown doesn’t treat the sexual revolution as a joke, but it doesn’t seem to know why we should take it seriously, either.  Are we meant to feel nostalgia for the bygone possibility of alternative sexuality in even the most staid of enclaves – of Harry Reems dropping in for cocktails at a midwestern house party, as happens in one enjoyable episode – or to shudder with relief that such scandalously unchecked libidinousness is as extinct as the Ford Pinto?  One thing you can say about all of the best TV shows, of any era: they take a position. 

A last look back at three recent television series cancelled before their time.

As the 2008-2009 television series ends with a whimper, it’s hard not to feel a sense of relief spiked nevertheless with frustration. For months we’d followed the efforts of three very good shows to find their audience, hit their creative strides, and sometimes to accomplish both at the same time. Even as formerly reliable and exciting shows collapsed around themselves – most notably NBC’s The Office and Heroes – the lesser known weeklies Life, Life On Mars, and the late season replacement The Unusuals foundered beneath increasingly merciless ratings thresholds.

All three shows had promise, all three sometimes fell short of their potential, and each one offered something more intelligent and ambitious than the sludge pool of reality-TV and cop procedurals that still lay, like a wet tarpaulin, over most of the network playing field. Like CBS’s Swingtown, which misses inclusion in the group only by virtue of its summertime airdates, they all deserved longer and better fates.

Of the three, only Life survived past its inaugural season, airing eleven episodes before the 2007-2008 writer’s strike. The intricate, melancholy story of police detective Charlie Crews (Damian Lewis, Band of Brothers), returning to the LAPD after serving twelve years in prison for a gruesome double homicide he didn’t commit, the show used veracious documentary-style interviews with its supporting characters to paint a sketchy, emerging back story of conspiracy and paranoia. Surrounding Crews were his recovering addict partner Danni Reese (The L Word’s Sarah Shahi), skeptical police lieutenant Karen Davis (Robin Weigert, Deadwood), and cellmate-turned-housemate Ted Earley (the terrific Adam Arkin, Chicago Hope). The conspiracy subplot gave an X-Files-like dread to each episode that intrigued without remaining deliberately opaque, so that each revelation begged for more information without necessitating it.

The Season 2 cast of Life.

NBC, in what must be the cruelest act of generosity in recent memory, renewed the ratings-challenged show for a second season but scheduled it during the Friday night wasteland. The show correspondingly took a tremendous dip in quality, downplaying Crews’  Zen ethos, the conspiracy side story, and Crews’ illicit love affair with his attorney (Brooke Langdon, Melrose Place) in favor of a far blander romance with his married ex-wife. The episode scripts languished, too, often involving more gimmick than substance and sex appeal over innovation or suspense. Four episodes into its second chance, the show teetered on the verge of becoming yet another network crime show, indistinguishable from the rest.

Worn down by Life: Lewis

A scheduling shift to Wednesdays brought a return to quality but didn’t significantly help ratings, even as the characters grew and the cast settled into working with one another. Donal Logue’s (The Tao of Steve) Captain Brian Tidwell, replacing Weigert as boss, was a charming romantic interest for Reese, while the show amplified first-season antagonist Roman Nevikov (Garret Dillahunt, No Country For Old Men) into the hub of the resurgent conspiracy backstory. A second-season finale brought satisfactory, if rushed, conclusions to its major storylines without taking narrative shortcuts. As a result the show has a definite beginning, middle, and (premature) end. Ultimately, the show makes ideal fare for marathons on DVD or on NBC’s undernourished Sleuth cable network.

In retrospect, considering its pedigree, film-worthy ensemble cast and mind-blowing premise, ABC’s remake of the BBC series Life On Mars should probably have hit the ground running as a better show than it ever actually became. Struck by a car in 2008, NYPD detective Sam Tyler (Jason O’Mara, In Justice) awakes in 1973 to find himself a just-transferred detective assigned to the crumbling 125th precinct, a sweaty fiefdom of crime and corruption dominated by bitter, lupine Lieutenant Gene Hunt (Harvey Keitel) and his overbearing henchman Ray Carling (Michael Imperioli, Goodfellas). Tyler found solace in the friendship of fledgling policewoman Annie Norris (Gretchen Mol, 3:10 to Yuma) while trying to determine if he was dead, comatose, or actually a time traveler.

The Life On Mars cast

Early episodes excelled thanks to the strong chemistry of the various cast members and plot points that were hard not to envy: the chance to meet one’s parents, to see oneself in early childhood, to capitalize on knowledge of the future. Unfortunately, it also went to the well of stranger-in-a-strange land pop culture references too often and sometimes didn’t carry its plots through to their conclusion. An early episode revealing corruption among Hunt and his cronies was dropped too soon, and a storyline involving the criminal activities of Tyler’s father (Dean Winters, Rescue Me) never got the attention it demanded.

Feathered, leathered: Mol and O'Mara

Ultimately, Life On Mars may never have been too much of one thing or another to draw in fans of science-fiction television or the cop procedural audience, both of which typically have very defined sets of expectations and demands. Underachieving in its Thursday night time slot, ABC moved the program to Wednesdays after Lost. The show dramatically matured in quality as the season went on, though, and episodes including a hospital hostage standoff and the death of a newspaper reporter who may have been a fellow time traveler were both series standouts.

The film is a saddening bore: the LOM finale

ABC cancelled the series well enough in advance to allow the show’s creators to give it a conclusion, and while their solution wasn’t very good it was nevertheless memorable. Departing wildly from the British series’ melancholy resolution, Tyler awakes to find he’s an astronaut en route to the planet Mars itself, and that his time in the 70s was a malfunctioning virtual reality dream during his suspended animation. A bold and clumsy middle finger held up to the show’s small but devoted audience, it’s a case study in the dangers of television done not well but quickly.

Finally, while no official notice of its cancellation shows up on search engine queries, its ratings and expert speculation alike suggest that ABC’s The Unusuals won’t survive past its original ten episode order. A dark serio-comedy that proudly held M*A*S*H as a primary influence that applied that show’s light on top/dark beneath texture to a seemingly normal “cops on the beat procedural,” often to stunning effect. Critics didn’t get it, and with a late-season starting date the show still hasn’t found its audience.

The cast of The Unusuals

It’s hard not to think of The Unusuals as the best cable drama on network television. The dark subject matter and characterizations – Detective Eric Delahoy (Adam Goldberg, The Hebrew Hammer) lives in denial of his brain tumor diagnosis, while his partner Leo Banks (Harold Perrineau, Lost) suffers a constant fear of death at any minute – takes a certain mindset to quickly embrace. Likewise its plots, which included a “zombie” hospice patient walking across New York to the site of his childhood home or the “crime slut” who romanced men to help her commit brutal robberies.

The show worked best based on the strengths of its ensemble cast, including neophyte detective Amber Tamblyn (Joan of Aracadia) as neophyte detective Casey Shraeger and Jeremy Renner (28 Weeks Later) as disgraced baseball player Jason Walsh, her possibly-corrupt partner. As good as they, Perrineau, and Goldberg were, the show was finding its standout in Kai Lennox (Yes Man) as Detective Eddie Alvarez. The spiritual descendant of M*A*S*H’s Major Frank Burns but hobbled by such low self-esteem that he only speaks of himself in the third person, the multilingual Alvarez was the wet blanket to all the strangeness surrounding the group’s Second Precinct, even as Renner’s detective was its brains and Goldberg and Perrineau its sadsack heart.

As with Life On Mars, from which it inhabited the post-Lost death slot, The Unusuals may not have been one-thing-or-another-enough to find its audience. Saddled with a series title that could win a MacArthur grant for blandness, audiences likely couldn’t figure out what it was about or why it was different. Too, there’s something to be said for the twilight of cop shows theory predicted for some time now, as years of Law & Order’s and CSI’s have worn out the public’s welcome or nailed down their time slots past the point of usurpation. Or possibly the public reflexively looks to cable for offbeat fare now – USA regularly mines quirk for most of its original programming, and AMC’s Breaking Bad is one of the best shows anywhere on the dial. So The Unusuals, like the other two shows fading into DVD releases and likely cable network spotlights, was possibly just too unusual for where it found itself.

- Michael Kabel
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Here is a video of Courtney Cox getting ready for a shot of Cougartown. It was recently announced that she’s more than pissed at someone calling her “Janice Dickinson” by mistake. Yah, I’d be super cougar pissed too.  That’s embarrassing!

Friends’ alumn Courtney Cox films scenes with the cast from her new ABC comedy pilot Cougar Town this week in Los Angeles.

Cox plays a 40-something single mom of a teenage son who starts dating again (and just happens to enjoy dating the younger set). The name of the show also refers to the name of the high school football team in Florida where her character (Jules) lives.

Also pictured in some of the photos are her co-stars Brian Van Holt (House of Wax), Josh Hopkins (Swingtown) and Dan Byrd (Aliens in America).

Others cast in the show include Christa Miller (Scrubs), wife of Scrubs and Cougar Town creator Bill Lawrence and Busy Philipps (Dawson’s Creek, Freaks and Geeks).

Cougartown is not even listed as in production on IMDB…sounds like its going to be a winner!!!!  anyone have more info on this film? Great concept….I think it’s got some life to it.

ABC greenlit a slew of pilots on Wednesday, including the Courteney Cox-Bill Lawrence project “Cougar Town,” a project starring Kelsey Grammer and one from Cedric the Entertainer.

This Day in Hollywood History

4/27

Births

1922 – Jack Klugman – American actor who appeared in films but is most notable for his memorable roles on television.  He won two Emmy Awards for his portrayal of slovenly Oscar Madison in the TV adaptation of The Odd Couple.  He later had a successful run playing Quincy, M.E. in the late 70s and early 80s.  He died in 2007 at the age of 83

1932 – Anouk Aimee – Popular French film actress.  She starred in A Man and A Woman in 1967, a film that brought her international fame as well as a Golden Globe for Best Actress and and Academy Award nomination for Best Actress.  She was married to British actor Albert Finney from 1970 to 1978.

1937 – Sandy Dennis – Academy and Tony award winning American actress.  She received the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her portrayal of George Segal’s alcoholic wife in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?  She died on March 2, 1992 from ovarian cancer.

1959 – Sheena Easton -  Scottish singer who has made some occasional forays into acting.  She had a string of hits in the 80s, most notably, For Your Eyes Only, the theme from the 1982 James Bond film of the same name.

1962 – Grant Show – He rose to fame as Jake Hanson on the popular Melrose Place TV drama.  Most recently he starred as a swinger in the cancelled series Swingtown.

Deaths

1965 – Edward R. Murrow – An acclaimed broadcast journalist of the 30s, 40s and 50s.  During WWII, he made regular broadcasts from London, often as a blitz was occurring and began each show with the  famous line, “Hello America.  This is London calling.”  In the post war era, he hosted several programs including Person to Person and became known for his signature sign-off, “Good night, and good luck.”  He was a life-long heavy smoker and died from lung cancer at his home.

1996 – Joan Bennett – American film, television and stage actress.  Her film career began in the 1920s with silent movies.  In 1966, she starred in one of her most famous roles as Elizabeth Collins Stoddard  in the cult TV soap opera, Dark Shadows, for which she received an Emmy Award nomination.  Bennett died at the age of 80 from a heart attack.

Events

1981 – Former Beatle’s drummer Ringo Starr marries actress Barbara Bach.

Dal 5 maggio, ogni martedì alle 22 su Rai4, verra trasmessa la serie che ha scandalizzato l’America: creata da Mike Kelley (già produttore di Jericho e di The O.C.) per la CBS.

Swingtown (2008) ci trasporta nei caldissimi Anni Settanta, raccontando le vicende di tre famiglie di Chicago alle prese con le interessanti novità che satellitano attorno alla libertà sessuale di quegli anni. Tredici puntate per descrivere un’epoca.

Il pilot è – non a caso – ambientato nel luglio del 1976, bicentenario dell’indipendenza americana, festeggiato da una nazione ai minimi storici dell’orgoglio patriottico, fiaccata dalla guerra in Vietnam, dallo scandalo Watergate e dalla crisi economica. I valori tradizionali e la morale puritana, alimentati dal benessere del secondo dopoguerra, hanno ceduto di schianto ai radicali cambiamenti di quegli anni lasciando posto a sempre nuove opportunità di ribellione ed espressioni di libertà.

Le vicende di Swingtown ruotano attorno a tre coppie di ultratrentenni: i Miller (Jack Davenport e Molly Parker) si trasferiscono in un ricco sobborgo residenziale di Chicago, entrando in contatto con i vicini Decker (Grant Show e Lana Parrilla) e scoprendone presto lo status di coppia aperta; ma continuano a frequentare anche i loro vecchi vicini, i Thompson (Josh Hopkins e Miriam Shor), che finiscono così indirettamente attratti dalla nuova realtà sociale vissuta dagli amici. La chiave generazionale della serie è però duplice: Laurie e B.J. Miller (Shanna Collins e Aaron Christian Howles), figli teenager della coppia, vivono le prime esperienze sentimentali, inevitabilmente influenzati dal nuovo ambiente che li circonda.