HawthoRNe in My Pride: TNT’s new “sensitive” medical drama kicked off June 16 and appeared, at least at first glance, to be heavily courting — and perhaps even banking on — the erstwhile ER audience. HawthoRNe is centered on the director of nursing at a Richmond, Virginia, hospital and features Jada Pinkett Smith as single mother/chief registered nurse Christina Hawthorne, whose calling card is putting others’ needs before her own.
Hawthorne is fiery, passionate, and strong-willed, dammit, and we find out quickly where some of that tenacity comes from, at least in part: her grief from losing her husband to cancer.
In the pilot episode, the viewer drops in on Hawthorne on the first anniversary of her husband’s death. Still coming to terms with the loss, she carries his ash-filled urn with her around the house and talks to him. In a bit of contrived tension, she has to grudgingly surrender his remains for a whole year to her caustic mother-in-law (!), who just so happens to sit on the hospital’s board (!!) and blames Hawthorne for her son’s death (!?!).
I mean, c’mon, seriously? You had me with the premise of the show. I kept waiting for Ashton Kutcher to pop out from behind a gurney and tell us we’d all been Punk’d. (Here’s hoping this part of the story gets downplayed or phased out entirely.)
Anyway, we see Hawthorne struggle almost immediately, which in turn makes her a sympathetic protagonist almost immediately. When not butting heads with her crab-in-law (Joanna Cassidy, Six Feet Under), she builds up a fair amount of tension with chief surgeon Tom Wakefield (Michael Vartan, Alias). Same goes for her relationship with her daughter, Camille (Hannah Hodson), who seems like a chip off the ol’ renegade block.
So how does Hawthorne regain control when so much of her life seems to be careening out of control? She takes command of the hospital. Pinkett Smith plays the character with her usual intensity, and since she’s one of the show’s executive producers, I expect she’ll continue to do the right thing with HawthoRNe. And when the patient subplots start to pair nicely with the characters being developed, this show will really hit its stride and maybe even persuade a few ER fans to join in. Overall, a lot of great things are happening for HawthoRNe, but some adjustments are necessary.
OK, I’m finally ready to proclaim what a lot of you already have: the FX network’s Tuesday night show Rescue Me is stunningly brilliant. It’s a good thing, too, because the setting for the show—a New York firehouse post-9/11 attacks—deserves the kind of great writing it has.
Blame my late public announcement on coming late to the Denis Leary/Peter Tolan-anchored firefighter drama, but thanks to the miracle of Hulu.com—a friend second only to a DVR box for any tragically over-scheduled house like mine—I’m finally caught up.
I honestly don’t think there’s a better drama on television right now, but that in itself is a miracle of sorts: the last couple of years of this five-season show were less than stellar. But after the writers’ strike and a reduced number of episodes in a season, Rescue Me is streamlined and sharp enough to reapply for that “Best Drama on TV” status.
Viewers need look no further than the last episode, where 9/11 firefighter widow Sheila Keefe (played by Callie Thorne) nailed a mouthful of inspired monologue in one freaking take. Yeah, five minutes in one take. It was, in a word, incredible.
The personal trials and tribulations within the show’s plot continue to thicken: Tommy Gavin (Leary) returns to Ground Zero and the back pain that Sean Garrity (Steven Pasquale) is experiencing turns out to be more than he bargained for/expected and Genevieve’s perspectives on the terrorist attacks push Gavin over the edge. Rescue Me airs tomorrow night and if you’re not watching it, you’re due to miss a five-alarm fire. (more…)
It’s hard to believe (for those of us who lived it, anyway) that it’s been fifteen years since Kurt Cobain committed suicide. On April 5th, 1994, the Seattle native left the world with the same cold-water shock his band Nirvana had on the world when the album Nevermind broke in 1991.
But to a larger degree, Cobain’s death has become a coda-like representation in our pop culture vernacular as the beginning of the end for the “grunge” era in Seattle. Greg Prato’s new book Grunge is Dead: The Oral History of Seattle Rock Music disagrees. The book attempts to set this (and gads of other misnomers perpetuated by “so-called experts, who didn’t show up until the ‘90s, as Pearl Jam’s Jeff Ament has said) straight.
Prato’s nearly 500-page digest does what no other documentary on the subject has before—it leaves the reflection to those who lived it, in their own words, without a filter. To that end, this is a truly great oral history. (more…)
Jon & Kate Plus … Date?: Can’t help but start with the worst first. If there’s one thing that’s certain in the world of entertainment, it’s the love of a good old-fashioned scandal. Only this time, really not that surprising or scandalous — it’s just too bad. Pure as baseball, hot dogs, apple pie, and Chevrolet, the reality TV version of Eight Is Enough, the Gosselins from TLC’s Jon & Kate Plus 8, are now embroiled in a “cheating” hullabaloo of sorts.
For those not yet in the loop on this one, husband Jon was apparently caught partying late with a woman who wasn’t his wife and (shock!) that’s set off a firestorm of public opinion. It was a bad judgment call that’s awakened all the perfect parents out in TV land, all of whom now feel free to psychoanalyze the real human beings in this delicate situation. The Gosselins’ site doesn’t say much, but the blog Gosselins Without Pity (ouch!) is hot to trot (natch) about this story.
The bottom line? Look, having eight kids so close together in age, and all in a goldfish bowl to boot, has got to be traumatic. Both these parents are “stress cases” who, once upon a time, thought a reality TV show was a good idea. They’ve made their money, scored their book deals and traded up in the lifestyle category (and then some). But if you look at them closely these last couple of seasons, they’re pretty miserable (watch the body language). Jon and Kate are a lost couple, working their way around each other (despite the cameras) and it’s obvious.
They don’t need a television show or the money, they need counseling and their kids. (more…)
TV Turn-Off Week: While it’s not my official excuse for being away from you, this is my story and I’m sticking to it: Last week was “TV Turnoff Week”—an opportunity for the boobtube addicted (like me) to take a break and concentrate on the lost art of what us late ’70s/early ’80s kids used to experience as “family time” and “outside time.” Back then, family and outside time was more than just important… it was a way of life.
I grew up in an era when television was really hitting its stride and swelling with popular culture. We also had the hottest video gaming system in the universe (the Atari 2600) back then as well—the retro equivalent of the Nintendo Wii, Sony PlayStation and Xbox 360 all rolled into one. But we knew when to turn it all off.
Never mind that some of us remember what black and white television was like; we also knew the guerilla George Lucas Marketing™ on commercial television when we saw it. Everything was ultra-marketed. But none of those things seemed to be our undoing, because we knew how to park it in front of the small screen AND how to use our imaginations when our TV time was up. Our parents had a hand in that action. And we burned up whatever junk food we scarfed up by running around like banshees outside.
Our parents kept and eye on the clock and sent us out into the yard, where you’d re-enact your Starsky & Hutch, Knight Rider, The Dukes of Hazzard, Battlestar Galactica or Buck Rogers in the 25th Century episode(s) you just watched, or talked about how well you played Space Invaders and Pac-Man that week. The neighborhood kids were all into TV and video games, but they often spent four to five times the number of outside hours as inside. Especially during the prime outdoor seasons.
Back then, you didn’t see the level of obesity in kids (or adults, for that matter) that you do now. Or the level of mental “checking out” that you see in a lot of kids today. Everyone seemed to know when to turn it off and focus on physical activity. The boobtube wasn’t babysitting. (more…)
Your 21st Century Digital Boy has had quite a weekend: ham, potato salad, green bean casserole and plenty o’ gleaning and gossip on the boobtube front. In lieu of a lengthy dissertation, this week’s episode is meant to keep you (and me) from a food coma. Sound bites of soundbytes, if you will:
A House Shocker: Kal Penn’s character (Dr. Lawrence Kutner) offs himself, leaving the rest of Dr. House and staff to deal with the ramifications for the remainder of the season. Of course, the thrice “Kumar Patel”—he of White Castle, Guantanamo Bay and Amsterdam fame—is going to work for President Barack Obama in real life. Three words: Yes he can. To paraphrase Kumar’s own words: “I can’t believe you’re gonna ditch for the Joy Luck Club, dude. You know what their parties are like.”
It’s not Unusual: Beneath the eccentric, black humor and innuendo, the new ABC NYPD series The Unusuals offers clever, metered banter and quick, intelligent pacing. In short, everything you’d expect of a hot cable show. It seems like a complete thrill to this reviewer… which, of course, can only mean one thing: expect The Unusuals to depart quickly. Similarly-framed shows like Sports Night, Love Monkey, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip and Trust Me stiffed. One can only assume this one will, too. Bigtime.
In Plod Me Trust: Speaking of Trust Me, TNT just canceled its freshman drama featuring Eric McCormack and Tom Cavanagh starring as advertising agency execs. One word: dammit! This is the kind of show that is supposed to succeed on cable and, frankly, the show was just getting interesting. This duo had chemistry, man. And yet, despite an interesting cast (OK, we agree that Monica Potter’s socially inept Sarah Krajeck-Hunter was dreadful) the show shouldn’t have ended its 13-episode run faster than you could say “Aaron Sorkin follow-up.” What does a sharp-tongued dialogue mastah like Cavanagh have to do to land a true hit? Even though I liked it, Ed doesn’t count… and Love Monkey never had a chance because of its unfortunate name.
Reality Bites: So here’s your WTF moment of the month: there’s a new reality show headed to Fox, from the people who brought you Big Brother (Endemol). Viewers get to watch the recession come to life in Someone’s Gotta Go—a reality TV series where small business employees lose their jobs on live television. Do we really need this at a time when our economy is looking so Depression Era? When businesses are boarding up left and right? When over 13 million children in the United States—that’s 18% of all children for you U.S. census honks—live in families with incomes below the federal poverty level? Horrible idea, Fox. Maybe even your worst since bringing Bill O’Reilly on board. Where’d ya learn your trade? (more…)
After 15 big red-letter seasons, NBC’s ER came to an end on Thursday night, earning its largest audience in nearly three years—some 16.2 million viewers, according to Nielsen estimates. This audience represents the largest showing for a dramatic series finale since CBS’s Murder, She Wrote ended back in 1996.
The two-hour finale of the long-running, ensemble medical drama was informed by the real-life tragedy of Shelby Lyn Allen, a 17-year-old Redding, California, native who died of alcohol poisoning in December.
I won’t spoil the details (mainly because NBC continues to repeat the finale for those who missed it), but suffice it to say it capped the end of an era in more ways than one. Dr. Carter (Noah Wyle) opening his brand-new medical facility in Chicago for the less fortunate was the new beginning at the end of ER; the question is, where might a Wyle-anchored spin-off end up in this day and age, if at all?
ER’s finale wasn’t just the end of an era for the Peacock’s 10 PM drama slot, which surrenders to Jay Leno’s new weeknight prime-time show in the fall. It also appears to be the front end of a trend to come: where more high-impact network dramas adapt to new delivery methods, migrate to cable, or die on the vine for affordability reasons.
That “adapt, migrate, or die” thought was an interesting one to ponder in the context of television. That’s how ecologists describe options for a species when a “forcing function” like climate change is looming . It’s a perfect parallel for TV in the 21st century: programming decisions are increasingly met by forcing function(s) like the down economy, rising production costs, varying delivery technologies, wider battles for smaller audiences and so on.
How else can one explain the end of Guiding Light—the longest running show in broadcasting history— which will cancel on CBS after a monumental run? The archetypical “soap opera” was a staple for Procter & Gamble to “peddle” household cleaning products and sundries to women. P&G’s people are changing with the times; they’re thinking about web portal content with original digital material to connect with increasingly wired homes (and moms). They’re certainly not the only ones.
And lastly, speaking of digital, the brain robots in the second-to-last Life on Mars (ABC) really had me thrown—especially when yours truly had it figured as the last episode. Serves me right for paying more attention to my NCAA brackets than the TV guide lately. Or perhaps I was having my own weird, asteroid-interrupted dream involving Mackenzie Phillips and Valerie Bertinelli. I know, TMI.
Ahem. Anyway, I never had Mars pegged for a sci-fi, 2001:A Space Odyssey-meets-Mission to Mars that it revealed itself to be. It all made me wish this freshman show had carried on. I didn’t figure Gene was Sam’s dad or that they had all been asleep during a two-year Mars mission. I couldn’t have imagined that what we were following were “neurological simulations” that were warped by faulty tech after an asteroid shower.
The only thing missing? The HAL-9000.
One thing is certain after this week: none of us are going to wake up to television like in 1973 (or 1975, to honor my One Day at a Time daydream) anytime soon.
If you’re a TV junkie, you’re waiting for the end of an era, or reeling from a hairpin, unorthodox beginning of a new one this week. Frankly, I’m not sure either compares to a good, old-fashioned dose of “TV Gold” from an old friend.
But that’s getting ahead of ourselves.
Thursday night marks the end of the 15-year run for NBC’s ER (the two-hour series finale “And in the End …”), and it’s certainly been talked to death. Spoilers have careened around the Internet for months, promising appearances by everyone from Dr. Ross (George Clooney) and Nurse Hathaway (Julianna Margulies) to Benton (Eriq LaSalle) and Carter (Noah Wyle).
In fact, rumors of Wyle’s character opening a new medical facility in Chicago for the disadvantaged leave the possibility of an ER spin-off wide open. As a longtime viewer, I can remember watching those first med-drama episodes. Now Thursday’s around the corner and everything I’m hearing about the end leaves me largely underwhelmed. I can’t imagine what the writers can do to competently bring this series to a close.
But I’ll be back next week to break that all down further.
At the same time this institution ends, the charming new HBO series The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency might actually live up to the buzz. After a string of successfully dark and intense cable series (The Sopranos, Six Feet Under), this show’s vibe is like something out of left field — and a breath of fresh air. Bringing to life Botswana’s only lady detective last night was both old school and pretty cool.
Based on a series of ten books (which have sold over 14 million copies worldwide to date), Detective follows Columbo-esque sleuth Precious Ramotswe (neo-soul singer Jill Scott) through what’s shaping up to be a Murder, She Wrote redux. Not that there’s anything wrong with that: Scott’s permutation of street smarts, charm, cunning and tenacity explains HBO’s gamble on a 13-episode order. Not a mind blower, this Detective, but very promising so far.
All of which leads me to Art Mann Presents. (more…)
Television programming executives despise smart, engaged viewers. Like, uh, me, for instance.
I’m the kind of guy who jacks up their focus groups and bell curves. I record their shows and burn through their well-placed advertising on the DVR (because I can). I’ll drop a meandering show like a bad habit. I like my “Joyrides for Shut-ins” done medium-well—intelligent, complex, but I hate tired plot devices and holes, and “clever for its own sake” (yep, I’m looking at you, Lost). And while I don’t claim to be a member of the so-called cognitive elite, I do have a smoldering case of voluntary Tourette’s Syndrome and an elephant’s memory.
None of this ever helps the execs. I’m almost impossible to make (and keep) happy.
So let me start this opening salvo with some fuel for the fire: TV series finales almost always suck. That is their nature. It’s almost as if closure itself is overrated in television.
It doesn’t seem to matter if a TV show has had a short life, or become an iconic representation of visual media fit for enshrinement in the pop culture lexicon and at the Smithsonian. And it doesn’t matter if it was brought to and end by flagging ratings or drawn to a close at its absolute peak of popularity. TV endings are almost always disappointing.
Naturally, any grand pronouncement like this will bring the contrarians out of the woodwork for comment, so yes, I’ll say that there are exceptions.
But if you search yourself, you know that poor endings far outweigh the passable and the perfect when shows are brought to an end. For every Newhart there’s a dozen Seinfeld or Everybody Loves Raymond endings. For every Strangers With Candy or Twin Peaks, there’s a Sopranos cop-out. For every M*A*S*H* or Freaks and Geeks, there’s a dismally painful Sex and the City or Moonlighting.
Did you see the recent series finale of The L Word? Or Life on Mars? Gah!
All of this brings us to the finale of the Peabody Award-winning re-imagining of Battlestar Galactica, which ended its brief, politically-charged, theological run on the Sci-Fi (or — sigh — SyFy) Channel on Friday. When this show was on, it was dynamite (and not as in “boom goes the…”). Deemed the “show of the decade” by some and the best science fiction TV series since The X-Files, BSG’s six-year strand was already starting to unravel when it ended with a two-hour finale aimed at cinching some unresolved mysteries. (more…)
HawthoRNe in My Pride: TNT’s new “sensitive” medical drama kicked off June 16 and appeared, at least at first glance, to be heavily courting — and perhaps even banking on — the erstwhile ER audience. HawthoRNe is centered on the director of nursing at a Richmond, Virginia, hospital and features Jada Pinkett Smith as single mother/chief registered nurse Christina Hawthorne, whose calling card is putting others’ needs before her own.
Rescue Me
It’s hard to believe (for those of us who lived it, anyway) that it’s been fifteen years since Kurt Cobain committed suicide. On April 5th, 1994, the Seattle native left the world with the same cold-water shock his band Nirvana had on the world when the album 
Jon & Kate Plus … Date?: Can’t help but start with the worst first. If there’s one thing that’s certain in the world of entertainment, it’s the love of a good old-fashioned scandal. Only this time, really not that surprising or scandalous — it’s just too bad. Pure as baseball, hot dogs, apple pie, and Chevrolet, the reality TV version of Eight Is Enough, the Gosselins from TLC’s Jon & Kate Plus 8, are now embroiled in a 
TV Turn-Off Week: While it’s not my official excuse for being away from you, this is my story and I’m sticking to it: Last week was “TV Turnoff Week”—an opportunity for the boobtube addicted (like me) to take a break and concentrate on the lost art of what us late ’70s/early ’80s kids used to experience as “family time” and “outside time.” Back then, family and outside time was more than just important… it was a way of life.
It’s not Unusual: Beneath the eccentric, black humor and innuendo, the new ABC NYPD series The Unusuals offers clever, metered banter and quick, intelligent pacing. In short, everything you’d expect of a hot cable show. It seems like a complete thrill to this reviewer… which, of course, can only mean one thing: expect The Unusuals to depart quickly. Similarly-framed shows like Sports Night, Love Monkey, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip and Trust Me stiffed. One can only assume this one will, too. Bigtime.
After 15 big red-letter seasons, NBC’s ER came to an end on Thursday night, earning its largest audience in nearly three years—some 16.2 million viewers, according to Nielsen estimates. This audience represents the largest showing for a dramatic series finale since CBS’s Murder, She Wrote ended back in 1996.![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_e.png?x-id=1cfa1dce-11d4-4a1b-9414-5115fff23982)
