In Memoriam: Jessica Walter

 

Jessica Walter was one of the great actresses of any medium, both because of her acting talent and an incredible voice. In a career that spanned over seven decades, she was memorable in just about everything she did, drama, comedy, or animation. Her resume consists of nearly every major or minor television series you can possibly name, from The Defenders to The Love Boat, Ironside to The Streets of San Fransicso, Murder, She Wrote. She was even given a few series of her own to lead – an Ironside spinoff called Amy Prentiss.

With her brusque, authoritative tone, she also had a voice that animation made good use off. I remember her work as Lady Diabolyn on the shortlived Saturday morning cartoon Wildfire and her  work as Fran, the matriarch of the Sinclair family on Dinosaurs.

But unlike so many of the actors who have passed just this year, Walter is thought of perhaps most highly by my generation. This is because of her work in two of the most extraordinary comedy series of the new Golden Age, one that just couldn’t stay cancelled and one of the most marvelous animated adult series in history.

Arrested Development,  even after the scattershot success of the two seasons that aired on Netflix, has to rank as one of the greatest comedy series of all time. It certainly had perhaps the greatest cast of comic actors ever assembled. Jason Bateman, Portia Del Rossi, Will Arnett, David Cross and Tony Hale are some of the greatest comic actors imaginable and its stunning to the think that the character with the smallest role – Michael Cera – has become perhaps the biggest star of all. ‘Here’s the story of a wealthy family who lost everything and the one son who had to keep it all together.” I don’t think I have ever laughed harder or long at some of the throwaway lines of dialogue, the pratfalls so many characters did and the frigging narration by Ron Howard was part of the fun. And by any calculation, I may have missed eighty percent of the in-jokes that so many of the fans loved.

To name any single cast member as the funniest member of the Bluth family is ludicrous – the writers went out of their way to make sure everybody got a great joke. But its fair to say that the world loved Lucille, the character that Walter played so flawless, with a martini glass always ready in her hand and an acerbic comment always ready to be deployed.  One of the better ones: “I love all my children equally.” Flashback: “I don’t particularly care for Gob.” There seemed something perfect about everything she did, the way she cheerfully pitted her children against each other, how she gleefully lied about the affair she was having with her husband’s twin brother, and her eternal battle with Lucille 2  (Liza Minelli) – at least in her mind anyway. Any other actress would have made this unpleasant, but just as all the other actors were perfectly cast to make their flaws hysterical, Walter was just at making everything as much fun.

When Arrested Development ended its network run, Walter continued to work. Then in 2009, FX came a calling with an animated series that a voice role that you could imagine anyone other than Walter doing. Archer is one of the most enduring and hysterical animated series of any era, featuring one of the great voice casts around: H. Jon Benjamin, Aisha Tyler, Chris Parnell, Judy Greer, and at the head of their agency (I’ve never been entirely sure whether calling it ISIS was a deliberate bad joke or just bad timing) was Mallory Archer, voiced impeccably by Walter.

There was little difference in behavior between Mallory and Lucille; she was always drinking, always berated her son and employees (who, to be fair, were mostly very incompetent) and not really caring about the government she worked for. (Halfway through the series run, we would learn that ISIS was, in fact, not affiliated with the government and had been committing treason all this time.) Part of what has made Archer so successfully during its long run is that unlike other certain animated series (hint, hint) Archer was never afraid to change the game. Halfway through its run, Archer and crew began running cocaine and doing Hollywood Security. When Archer fell into a coma, it was excuse for the series to go inside his mind and embrace different genres – noir, adventures series, and outer space. The cast took on different roles, but Walter was always at the lead making things bad for everybody. In a way, few actress have either played – or voiced – such memorable messy matriarchs.

Walter will be missed by the lion’s shares of fans of both series, but at least Archer will have a chance to give a fitting goodbye. Animated series can often do surprisingly moving tributes to voices they’ve lost – The Simpsons remembered Marcia Wallace fondly and Family Guy was particularly movie after the passing of guest voices Carrie Fisher and Adam West. It will be hard to say goodbye to Walter – it’s hard to imagine if Archer will even continue without her – but somehow, I have a feeling Walter would want it that way. Not Mallory, though.

In Memoriam, Part 1: Yaphet Kotto

 

I don’t always pay tribute to actors or writers in TV who have recently passed away, unless they have made a significant impact on the medium as a whole. However, in the past two weeks, two of my favorite actors who played two of my favorite characters since I’ve begun watching television critically have passed away at comparatively young ages as opposed to some of earlier ones. (As much as I will miss Hal Holbrook, Cloris Leachman and Cicely Tyson, it’s been awhile since any of them played characters who meant a lot to me. Which doesn’t mean I still don’t feel anguish at their passing.) So I’m going to reflect on two superb characters who had many great roles over their long careers, but each of whom played a character that is indelible in the annals of TV history.

I will start with Yaphet Kotto. Kotto was a character actor’s character actor. With his massive build, there always seemed to be something vaguely fearsome about him, even when his characters weren’t. From the lead villain in Live and Let Die to the brash parker in Alien to his work in such varied films as Brubaker, Blue Collar, and Midnight Run, he had a posture and bearing that said authority figure. Which may have been the reason he was cast it what would be his most famous role: Lt. Al Giardello in Homicide: Life on the Street.

Anyone who has been a constant visitor to this blog knows how big a fan I was of this series, so in this case, I’d like to a little background. During the 1990s, in what was surely the most infuriating stereotype in the history of broadcast television: rather than give an African-American a real role as a police officer on cop shows, they would frequently put them as superiors, meaning that they’d be there but never have anything interesting to do or say. From Steven Williams in 21 Jump Street to James McDaniel on NYPD Blue to S. Epetha Merekson on Law & Order, these lieutenants would just tradition be there to back up their detectives in the office and against the bosses, and every so often, have to deal with a ‘race’ based episode.

It would’ve been very easy for Al Giardello to just be another one of those lieutenants. But Homicide was never that kind of show. In a sense, ‘Gee’ as he was known, would follow a lot of the tropes: he wouldn’t go out on the street (though there were a couple of exceptions) he would defend his detectives to the bosses, and he would deal with race based issues. But because the series was set in Baltimore, a lot of the authority figures that Giardello would clash with were African American themselves. Indeed, Giardello most frequently butted heads with Captain/Colonel George Barnfather (Clayton LeBoeuf), who more often would prove that a black man in charge could be just arrogant and snide as a white man in charge. (That was revealing in itself.)  Perhaps the most significant thing about Homicide was that being black and in authority didn’t get you any bonuses even in a mostly African-American city.

And Gee, while he would be paternal and warm with most of his fellow detectives, especially the rookies, he would just as often butt heads with them too. He would often go head to head with Frank Pembleton, his best detective but also the one who caused him the most agita. There was a memorable storyline early in the series where Pembleton would investigate a shooting where it looked like a cop had been the trigger man. Pembleton wanted to go after the cops; Gee was adamant in giving them every chance. Pembleton memorably went over his head, leaving Gee to snarl “You son of a bitch, Pembleton.” This would lead to one of the most bracing sequences, where Pembleton, in order to appease his lieutenant, elicited a false confession from the friend of a victim. Giardello reluctantly tore it up and forced the investigation to go forward.

There were layers to Giardello that we almost never found in so many similar characters. He was a widower and a family man, with three children he rarely saw. (The final season would introduce his estranged son, Mike Giardello, played by Giancarlo Esposito, who returned to Baltimore to try and mend fences. It didn’t work out well.) We knew he had few friends and very little romantic attachments. We knew he’d been in Vietnam and a POW – who’d convinced his captor to defect.  Kotto often complained his character was never quite developed enough, but every time he said something in Sicilian, there seemed to be more meaning than any monologue.

It was fitting that when the reunion film aired, what brought everybody together was the assassination attempt of Giardello, who was running for Mayor. And it was also right, even though it hurt, that he would not survive the shooting. Giardello was always larger than life, and somehow I think once he was gone, the series was meant to finally be done with.

Kotto was frustrated with the constant problems in working on television in general. When Homicide ended, he would basically retire with only a few cameos for the remaining twenty years of his life. I think in a way, that’s only right – that his greatest role would also be the last thing he ever really did for anything.

The final images of Homicide: The Movie took place in the squadroom in the afterlife, where all the police who died in the line of the duty – and some figures that were just as important to the series – were all there. The last image we ever saw was Gee sitting down to play poker with Steve Crosetti (Jon Polito) and Beau Felton (Daniel Baldwin). “When you’re gone,” Crosetti said “you’re a long time gone.” “Rest in peace,” Felton would say. “Means what it says.” Gee let down his problems and for the first time in maybe forever, finally relaxed. I’d like to take that image of Kotto with me, and hope he’s in a similar, peaceful place.

There Are Difficult Women Too: Conclusion

 

There is room for ambiguity in the story of The Affair. There is far less room for doubt in the story of Frankie Shaw and SMILF, which happened roughly the same time on the same network.

From the moment it debuted it debuted in the fall of 2017, SMILF actually seemed the rare high value property that would live up to its name. Based on short film written and directed by series creator Frankie Shaw,  the series dealt with Bridgette Bird (Shaw) an early twenty-ish single mother, living on the poverty line trying to raise her toddler son in a very complicated relationship. She worked several jobs, including as an au pair for a very wealthy woman (Connie Britton), tried to balance her life with her baby’s father, a recovering drug addict who was in the middle of a relationship of his own with the upper class Nelson (Samara Weaving). She had a complicated relationship with her very depressed mother (Rosie O’Donnell did some of her best work in a very long time) and was dealing with the issue of having been molested as a child.

The series was extremely messy but occasionally brilliant in its first season and Showtime renewed it for a second. In my opinion, it actually got better that year, dealing with some very ambitious experimental production that at times was nearly as good as some of the more ambitious comedies – I compared it in a review to Atlanta, Donald Glover’s masterwork, and while it never reached that level, I thought it could’ve. Then halfway through the second season, Showtime announced it was cancelling the series.

At the time, I was appalled at their actions; I was unable to comprehend why the network would burn their bridges with a project this highly favored. Then a few months later, I got the whole story. Shaw served as the writer and director of nearly every episode, and while filming, several cast members including Weaving, accused Shaw of openly body shaming them before the cast and crew. Considering the nature of the violations (and probably the fact that the network was dealing with the fallout of what was happening on The Affair) I believe Showtime made the correct call.

Can women showrunners be as toxic as men? Admittedly to date, the sample size is still too small to make a clear assessment. Network bigwigs like Tina Fey and Shonda Rhimes have, as far as I’m aware, never had problems like this after decades of multiple series. And to their credit, other female showrunners when forced to deal with a cast member whose behavior has been offensive – I’m thinking of Jill Soloway on Transparent and Lena Waithe on The Chi – have removed the actors from the series, though it could be vitally damaging to the stories they had been telling. (Soloway had to abruptly end Transparent and Waithe had to have a character who was ostensibly the most important killed off last season.) It’s hard to imagine some male showrunners or executives making the decision that quickly. On the other hand, we do know that some personalities are unpleasant to everybody – Roseanne was a nightmare to work with throughout her original run in the 1990s and she crossed so many lines when her series were revived, that ABC to their credit was willing to have her removed, damn the cost.

As the  entertainment industry continues to make the long march to equality, there are bound to be flawed and toxic female writers and directors as much as there are male ones. God knows, every day we seem to learn about just horrible another icon is. But it is important that we can’t expect a woman to be perfect at her job just because she is a woman. If there are male showrunners who can be horrible to work for, there have to be some female ones as well. That is one of the ways we know what equality looks like.

There Are Difficult Women, Too: Part 1

 

In the past few years, we’ve heard so many stories about just how misogynist and horrible some of the biggest names in show business have been. To date, we have heard few horror stories from TV showrunner, with Joss Whedon being the most notable and painful exception to the rule.

Of course, it is worth noting that you don’t have to be sexist to be a toxic personality in television. David Chase has never been, as far as I know, accused of being a sexual abuser. But if you’ve read Difficult Men, the story behind the showrunners who helped make the Golden Age of television what it is, you will know that he was a horrible person to work for, given the prodigious number of hiring and firing that took place over his tenure at The Sopranos. (One fired writer, Todd Kessler, based his experience on the series to turn out another great show, Damages…but that’s a story I’ve already told.) Given how unpleasant he could be, it’s rather remarkable that The Sopranos is one of the greatest series of all times. 

We’ve heard other stories about how hard certain other showrunners can be to work for. It could be a struggle to work for David Milch, given his methods for creating legendary series such as Deadwood, and all things considered, I’m still stunned there were no onset revolts. And recently we’ve learned that Peter Lenkov, who created the successful reboots of Magnum P.I. and Hawaii Five-O  was one of the most wretched and horrid people to work for in the modern era. He was abusive to his fellow writers and actors, and it is very possible that Daniel Dae Kim and Grace Park resigned rather than continue to work for him.

But while all of the concentration has justifiably, been, on the horrible men in power, it is worth noting that these levels are not strictly limited to men. In recent years, there have been stories about how two difficult female showrunners, who managed successful series on Showtime, turned out to be toxic in their own ways. We learned about how difficult one was only after the series ended; the other lost her show because of her behavior.

The Affair was one of those series that I never quite got around to appreciating, even though it had many of the things I liked in. Several of the cast members are among my favorite actors in this era – Dominic West, who continues his successful streak that began with The Wire; Joshua Jackson, who I’ve long considered one of the most undervalued actors of the golden age, and Maura Tierney, who in a career that stretches as far back as Newsradio has been one of the most talented actresses in either comedy or drama, and who arguably had her best role here. Ruth Wilson has always been graceful to watch – she was remarkable on Luther.

The series dealt with the relationship between two happily married couples: Noah and Helen (West and Tierney) who’ve been married for fifteen years with several children and have a seemingly happy marriage; and Alison and Cole (Wilson and Jackson), a younger couple who are dealing with the loss of the child. On a trip to Montauk, Noah and Alison meet and very gradually are drawn into an affair. The series would be divided into two parts, showing the story from Noah’s point of view, then Alison’s (it would grow over the years) and slowly, we would learn of a more serious crime underpinning it. There was a fair amount of back and forth over the years, as all the relationships would change.

The series was always well regarded. Though it never did well at the Emmys, it won three Golden Globes: (Best Drama and Actress for Wilson in 2015; Best Supporting Actress for Tierney). And creators Hagai Levi and Sarah Treem received much praise not only for their storytelling, but for how well done the nude scenes were (which tested the boundaries even of Showtime) It seemed like a series that had no real flaws.

Then in the fourth season, something odd happened. In one of the most shocking twists in TV history, Alison’s character was killed off, and Wilson refused to comment about why it had happened or if she had any other reason to leave the series where she’d had such success. At the time, critics were fond of it: the episode where Alison and her current love have a long discussion and we are given two alternate versions of how it happened was one of the high points of the season. But creatively, the series never recovered from it: Jackson left the show not long after, and the final season involved a bizarre story set in a Montauk drastically affected by climate change, following Alison’s now grownup daughter Joanie (played by Anna Paquin). There were many other odd elements to the fifth season which never sat right, and I’m still not sure if the writers lost their way afterward.

After The Affair ended in the fall of 2019, Wilson finally made public comments about why she left the series. She claimed that she never agreed to many of the way so many of the love scenes (many of which she had been at the center of) had been shot and that she’d had disagreements with Treem, who wrote and directed many of the episodes, about them. Treem denied the rumors, as did Showtime as a whole, so what we are left with is a ‘she said, she said’ story and its hard to know which side is more credible. But in an age where so many actresses have come forth complaining about so many male directors/executives have demanded that they be forced to film a scene a certain way or be fired, are we supposed to dismiss Wilson’s claims because the showrunner is also a woman?

There is room for ambiguity in the story of The Affair. There is far less room for doubt in the story of Frankie Shaw and SMILF, which happened roughly the same time on the same network. I’ll discuss that tomorrow.

They (Mess) You Up Your Mom And Dad: Breeders Season 2 Review

 

For the better part of this decade, I’ve been watching Martin Freeman playing darker variations on the average man. He did more in nearly a century to make the character of John Watson become fully dimensional in the extraordinary Sherlock than almost any of the dozens of actors (and at least one actress) who have played the role. He also edged into a far darker version of the everyman in his mesmerizing work as Lester on the extraordinary first season of Fargo. He planned an average Minnesotan poisoned by his interaction with a savage one, but after awhile you were pretty clear that darkness had always been within him. He was good that he actually ended up nominated for playing both characters in 2014 (he won Supporting Actor for the former.)

Freeman has been so good at playing to the dramatics that it came as a shock to me that his start was in comedy. I never saw any of his work in the U.K. version of The Office (and it’s unlikely, given my feelings towards Ricky Gervais in general that I ever will). I have gotten a sense from his work in movies: his role as Arthur Dent in the deeply flawed film version of Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy and in Simon Pegg’s Cornetto Trilogy, particularly The World’s End. He does have a very gentle sense of humor that often gets lost in so many of the over the top versions that we get so often.

Last year, he came up with the image for the FX series Breeders. The story is remarkably simple: it follows two middle-class parents in modern England: Paul (Freeman) and Ally (Daisy Haggard) as they try to raise their children, twelve year old Luke and ten year old Ava. Neither child is precisely normal, particularly Luke, who has trouble dealing with other children and in the second half of the season premiere was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder that practically stops him from sleeping. And the truth is, neither Paul nor Ally is particularly good at their judgment – they were good parents when they were younger, but they’ve got more issues then their children. Paul, in particular is angry at the world, and so devoted to keeping hold of his inner rage that when advised to see a therapist about it, he keeps changing therapists rather than accept any advice that would involve letting go of his rage. Ally can be just as hostile, mainly to the idea that anything is wrong with her children. W     hen she learns that Luke might have something wrong with him; she is reluctant to get him diagnosed because of how it affects things – even if it means helping him.

Haggard is one of the more intriguing comic actresses of the past decade: she could steal scenes with just a mutter in Showtime’s criminally underviewed Episodes and in developing the outstanding Back To Life where she played the lead role of a woman convicted of murder as teenager returning to the village she’d grown up in and is now considered a pariah. Breeders gives her some of her best wok to date, playing a mother who was never fully appreciated by her own, and who can’t quite seem to manage her relationship with her now. Childhood issues also plague Paul, albeit in a different way. He doesn’t believe his parents gave him enough latitude growing up, though they seem a lot more passive-aggressive than Paul is himself.

Breeders is a subtler comedy than those on FX, and indeed most of their series in general. The closest equivalent in my opinion is Better Things, which mostly deals with a mother close to Paul and Ally’s age handling her complicated children. Breeders proves that is just as complicated to raise children in a conventional family as in an unconventional one that Sam has. (Sam is just as angry as these parents, but having met her mother and her husband, one can see why.)  There are no big issues, no big crisis, just trying to raise a family – which as any parent can tell you, is a daily ordeal. It’s charming and its funny and it shows Freeman and Haggard in fine fettle. Is it as groundbreaking as Atlanta? No. But in its own way, to its own audience, it’s just as relatable.

My score: 4 stars.

Bill Lawrence Appreciation, Conclusion: Why Ted Lasso Really Works

 

There are two critical things about all of Bill Lawrence’s characters over the years: everybody has layers that are revealed over time and no one is just one thing or the other. Even the heavy has their reasons for being who they are, and they never planned it that way.

Perhaps the prime example of this in Scrubs was Dr. Kelso, exquisitely played by Ken Jenkins. Jenkins was the chief of staff at Sacred Heart, and he went out of his way to denigrate everybody. This was especially truly in the wonderful back and forth of his favorite target, Ted, who he never let an opportunity pass to insult. (Admittedly, so did just about everybody else.) It would have been easy for any showrunner to make him the bigoted villain and be done with it. But Lawrence never did things the easy way. Over the course of the series, he and his writers went out of their way to give dimensions that you wouldn’t expect. Most of them had to do with service in the military, which he never elaborated on, but we heard about every so often in a throwaway line. (Prime example of both insult and depth: Cox makes a remark about Ted and Kelso having a commitment ceremony. Kelso: “Perry, even if I went that way – and believe me, there were times in the service, it didn’t seem so far-fetched – Ted is hardly my type.) We knew that there was a part of Kelso that wanted to be respected and liked, but that his job demanded that he couldn’t be either – and he knew what his role had to be.

A similar level of depth becomes very clear in the character of Rebecca Welton, the owner of the Richmond team, played by Hannah Waddingham, already on her way to being a shoo-in for a Supporting Actress nomination. We are given to expect almost from the beginning that she is a stereotypical ice queen, who wants to destroy her football team and Ted Lasso along with. But we very quickly that there’s far more to Rebecca then even she wants to admit. Much as she tries to browbeat Ted, she is grudgingly being won over by his can-do attitude. And we know she has a reason for her rage – her husband was cheating on her and left her for a younger model. There is a good soul in Rebecca, aching to get out. We see it very clearly in her unlikely friendship with model Keeley (Juno Temple), who just like Rebecca has depths to her own. (Lawrence has always been good in forming unlikely, deep friendship between women; the friendship between Eliot and Carla, the head nurse at Sacred Heart in Scrubs is one of the deepest I’ve ever seen between women in any TV series,) And it’s clear that Rebecca is at least partly the cause of her own suffering; when she encounters one of her best friends in an episode, Sassy is very quick to call her on her bullshit on just how much she is responsible for becoming who she was. That same episode, in which Ted is struggling to come to terms with his impending divorce and has a panic attack, she walks him out of the club and is more sympathetic than we’ve ever seen to anyone at this point.

And this level of depth is always clear even to the throwaway characters. Coach Beard, played wonderfully by Brendan Hunt, could just have easily been a throwaway sidekick who delivers everything deadpan. But like Ted himself, we see that he has a lot of dimension. For one thing, he can keep up with Ted’s train of thought and references (I’ll get to those in a minute) and he always seems willing to allow himself to do anything.  At a karaoke night, he leaps into a very delightful (and tuneful) rendition of Lady Gaga’s ‘Poker Face’ and he seems able to play entire chess matches in his head. (We see him do so with a girl he’s trying to date, but unfortunately, he’s so involved with the match he ‘puts the dame ahead of the game’ as Ted appropriately puts it.)

Which brings me to one more thing I really like about Ted Lasso: all of the jokes are smart. This is generally true of most Lawrence shows, but he and his staff (which includes Sudeikis) are all gifted at throwing out levels of jokes that hit you later. Among Ted’s knowledge Potter Stewart’s definition of obscenity, Alex Haley’s literary canon, Martin Scorcese’s filmography, classic musical theater, and the exact point where The Iron Giant becomes a weepie (though that may be due to raising a child.) And almost everybody in Ted Lasso is as sharp or engaging. There are only a few characters that aren’t self-aware, but even that may be revealed a little later on. Lawrence’s series always revealed more layers the longer they were on, and we’ve only had a 10 episode first season.

One of the better things about the new Golden Age has been how quickly some shows get renewed and some writers who have toiled in the field for years get honored by the Emmys. Lawrence has struggled for decades to get his series renewed. Not long after Ted Lasso debuted, it was renewed for a second season – and then a third. Based on the Golden Globes, the Critics Choice and the various Guild nominations, it seems very likely that Lawrence, Sudeikis and his cast and crew will get a plethora of Emmy nominations. I would be fine if, just as the Emmys finally honored the Palladinos, creators of Gilmore Girls for The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, they finally honored Lawrence of Ted Lasso. I admit, with so many series either finished with their run or unable to shoot new episodes (like Maisel) it will be an odd year, but I’m fairly confident that among any year, Ted Lasso would be among the best.

Bill Lawrence Appreciation: Part 2, The Interim Shows

 

After Scrubs closed up shop, Lawrence spent the next decade dealing with various projects that gave diminishing returns – in terms of audience and time on the air, that is. In terms of quality, each was original and definitely not Scrubs in a different world.

In the fall of 2009, Lawrence created one of the most entertaining series with one of the worst titles in history. Cougar Town featured the lifes of Jules Cobb, played by Courtney Cox and her teenage son living in Florida. It dealt with the relationship of her with two very different women Ellie (Christa Miller again, barely tweaking her work on Scrubs at all) and her real estate manager Laurie (Busy Philipps in the process of moving from teenage idol to all out superstar) Also involved were her ex-husband Bobby and her eventual new husband Grayson, who was a quite bit younger than her. (Contrary to belief, the title had to with a sport team in the era. Lawrence knew how awful the name was and spent much of the opening credits eventually mocking the name.)

This was a funny and more sexual show that Lawrence’s other series, which may have been the reason it never really gelled on ABC’s Wednesday night lineup which feature the modern classic Modern Family and another tremendously underrated show The Middle, both of which would be critical and popular hits for most of the 2010s. Cougar Town understandably didn’t fit in the same way, which is probably why ABC reluctantly cancelled it in the spring of 2012. But just as Scrubs had been saved by ABC in 2008, TBS – a cable network gradually investing in original programming brought it on their schedule that year. It managed to run another three seasons, more to critical than popular devotion. It was quite a pity, because there was real humor in this show. And Cox and Phillips have done some of their best work on this medium (even though, like with Scrubs, the Emmys ignored it).

In the middle of Cougar Town’s run, Lawrence had enough traction so that he developed his next original series Ground Floor. In many ways, this was the most traditional of Lawrence’s series. (It even had a laugh track that Scrubs and Cougar Town pointedly went without.) It didn’t make it any less ambitious though. The series dealt with the relationship between Brody (Skylar Astin’s breakout role) a successful banker who falls in a love who works in the building’s maintenance department. It sounds a little conventional (there’s a lot of nineties rom-coms based on just this formula) except that Lawrence, keeping up with his tradition, populated the series with lots of fascinating background characters.  In the maintenance department, there was Harvard, the least educated man you imagine. Brody’s rival on the top floor was Threepeat, like him just without a sole. And John C. MicGinley gladly returned to the world of Lawrence as Mr. Mansfield, Brody’s mentor who actually a bit more of a soul than he was allowed to show in Scrubs. (He was even willing to mock himself.) It was closer to the model of a sitcom that Lawrence had once memorably parodied on Scrubs but there were often engaging moments, and McGinley once again had some of the biggest laughs. But TBS never had enough confidence in it, and it was cancelled after two seasons.

Lawrence’s last major work in the next few years was one of his most daring series.  Life Sentence on the CW was a dramedy that had one of the most radical setup for any series, even in the new Golden Age. Lucy Hale was a twentyish woman who has spent the last six years dealing with a diagnosis of cancer. Her family has done everything in their power to make her life enjoyable, including arranging for her dying wish to go to Paris, where she got married on an impulse. The series opens with her preparing for her funeral – and then finding out that her cancer is in remission. With no idea what to do next, she soon find out that her family has spent the last few years completely papering over all of their crises – her parents marriage is about to end, her brother is going through another failed relationship, and the family is nearly broke due to the efforts to support their daughter. The series is about her efforts to try and restart her life.

This was an ambitious idea – certainly far too ambitious for the CW, which had spent the last few years advancing into a world of edgy comic book franchises. And the truth is, it had a far more interesting premise than it did in actual execution. Nevertheless, I still regard it as one of the more fascinating failures of the past decade. Sometimes, I wonder why the network – which had a habit of renewing all of its shows, including lesser success stories like Crazy Ex-Girlfriend and Jane the Virgin en masse – just refused to go along with this one. Maybe Lucy Hale and the CW just never mixed – a couple of years later, she would be the lead on Katy Keene, a Riverdale spinoff that was much more cheerful that had more going for it but would still be cancelled after just one season.

That would be Lawrence’s last project until Ted Lasso. Tomorrow I’ll wrap it up with a brief summary of why it’s quintessential Lawrence and yet different from anything he’s ever done.

He IS A Superman - Or At least A Super-Showrunner: A Bill Lawrence Appreciation

 

Over the last few months, audiences, critics and award givers have all embraced Apple TV’s Ted Lasso. One of the funniest series on any service in a very long time, it has endured itself to the world, not just because of its remarkable humor, but because of the other niceness that surrounds both the title character and basically everybody on the show. Jason Sudeikis is giving one of the funniest and most likable performance that has been practically anathema even to the comedies in the new Golden Age. Ted is the opposite of so many leads – he’s intelligent in way that the world doesn’t quite see, he’s likable to the entire world, and he’s friendly even to the people who are trying to wreck him. And he does all this while undergoing some truly horrific turmoil – he’s finalizing a divorce from a marriage that has been on the rocks for awhile. Sudeikis has more than earned the Golden Globe and Critics Choice he’s won.

I’m glad for the recognition this show has been getting, not just because it is funny and sweet, but because it might finally give due respect to one of the greatest comic showrunners in the history, not merely of Peak TV, but in the entirety of the medium. And yet, I’m willing to bet that until this show broke so big, very few people even knew who Bill Lawrence was. Which, given how good he is at his job and particularly considering where he worked, is really unfair. So I figure now would be a good time to pay tribute to Lawrence’s series and how so much of it has led up to Ted Lasso.

Let’s start with his first series, probably the greatest underviewed show of the entire first decade of the 2000s.  In my opinion, Scrubs may have the funniest show of the entire 2000s. It was more adventurous by far than Will & Grace, it was willing to break more boundaries then Everybody Loves Raymond, and it somehow managed to last three times as long as Arrested Development.  Yet somehow, it flew under the radar of audiences and the Emmys and I’ve never been able to figure out why.

Scrubs followed the path of John Dorian, known by everybody as JD (This is where Zach Braff broke big.) Beginning as an intern as rising up the ranks at Sacred Heart, a trauma center in an unnamed city, we followed JD as he tried to become a doctor and find humor in a decidedly unfunny world. I truly believe that Scrubs was as close as my generation would ever get to MASH, and it was always far less political.

The series had one of the greatest casts of characters and actors of all time. Sarah Chalke played Eliot, JDs on-again, off again, love interest/soul mate, a female doctor with a mass of neurosis. Donald Faison played Turk, JD’s college roommate and fellow surgeon. (I’m pretty sure if the term ‘bromance’ hadn’t existed by then, they would have to coin it to define J.D. and Turk’s relationship. No one was willing to admit how close they truly were; not even them.) And JD’s role model, Dr. Cox, a perennially raging man who never missed a chance to belittle anybody, and was truly the biggest hero of the entire show. (One of the greatest robberies in television history was how John C. McGinley never got a single Emmy nomination for one of the funniest, most scorched earth performances of all time.)

Where Scrubs truly shone – in a way that even the greatest comic series rarely do – was that it had one of the great back-benches of supporting characters in the history of any TV show. Neil Flynn was by far the most wonderful as the nameless Janitor who spent his entire career tormenting JD in ways so creative and imaginative he never came close to running out. (I was astounded, but not shocked, to learn that Flynn actually improvised the lion’s share of them.) There was also a wonderful performance by the late, great Sam Lloyd as Ted, the sad sack hospital attorney who was truly the greatest portrayer of human misery in TV history. And one of the great performances came from Christa Miller as Jordan, the sexy hospital administrator who was Cox’s ex-wife and whose acidic tongue demonstrated just why these two bitter personalities were utterly perfectly for each other. (Miller is Lawrence’s wife, and he demonstrated, much like Frances McDormand with the Coen Brothers did, that it’s not nepotism if you’re truly talented.) All of these characters could’ve been funny if they’d just done their bits, but Lawrence and his staff went out of their way to give them backstories and allow them to interact with the main cast – and better still, with each other – to give the depth that I can only truly compare with David Simon’s work on The Wire for a level of pure character ability.

This was one of the truly great sitcoms of all time – and yet for the entirety of its run, both the awards circuit and audiences ignored it. Even when the show had the golden time slow of following Friends, it could never draw an audience of more than ten million viewers and had to fight for renewal every season. Was the humor too dark for network audiences? Was the continuity of characters and gags too complicated for them to follow? (Arrested Development, which had a similarly complicated gag history, would never gain mass audience, and not until the show’s run was nearly over would series like 30 Rock and Parks & Rec show there was room for this kind of humor on network TV.) Whatever the reason, the series never gained traction with audiences.

But it was more inexplicable that the series got almost no recognition from the Emmys. The series was only nominated once for Best Comedy and had only one nomination for any of the actors (Braff. When he lost, the writers in good humor turned it into a gag about the man who beat him, Tony Shalhoub.) Scrubs was infinitely funnier and far deeper than Will & Grace, but that series was always a perennial nominee and Scrubs never was. For my early years as a critic, it was the biggest robbery by the Emmys I witnessed. (I’ve seen far greater ones since.)

Weirdly enough, Scrubs suffered the fate of too many network comedies: it stayed on the air too long. (Though in typical fashion it was very odd. It was cancelled by NBC in 2007, revived by ABC in 2008, showed a final episode in the spring of 2009, and was then brought back – briefly – without Zach Braff before giving up the ghost.) It was clearly losing steam, but even near the end it was still coming up with ways to be funny – it featured a crossover with Sesame Street that was both funny and sweet.

I know that every actor in it is busy doing other things – and some are no longer with us – but I actually wouldn’t mind a reboot or even a continuation of Scrubs. It was always relevant in the era pre-Obamacare, and if anything it is more relevant now. Millions watched The Office this past year, out of memory of what they lost, and have wanted more of it; I’d argue we need a revival of Scrubs to best appreciate what the world had to handle. It might be darker than the show was before, but it couldn’t be any worse than Grey’s Anatomy right now. God knows JDs fantasies have always been more entertaining and we need a Perry Cox more than ever.

 

Wow. I didn’t mean to gush. Tomorrow I’ll go over the rest of Lawrence’s series, how they were lesser gems that weren’t appreciated, and often found humor in unlikely places.

Trump's Gone. How's Late Night Doing?

 

I don’t normally update these kinds of pieces, but I really thought it was worth doing so a few months into this new administration.

As we edge our way out of the current crisis, I’ve been watching some of the late-night talk shows to see how they would deal with a post-Trump world. And to their credit, many of them are adapting quite well and handling this world with a kind of grace and humor.

Desus and Mero may be the new gold standard for how late night TV can be done and should be done. Still meeting virtually, still making politics a lesser, subtler part of their work (they end every broadcast shouting out ‘Black Lives Matter’ and still pay attention to Breanna Taylor) they continue to bring new levels to their world of entertainment. Late last year, they probably realized their ambition of interviewing Barack Obama about policy matters and basketball. They still handle viral clips with incredible alacrity, and though they haven’t gotten back together, they have done impressive sketches, including a Kyrie Irving press conference, where Mero played Irving and Desus, well, played all the journalists.  If they don’t at least get nominated by the Emmys this year, there’s something seriously wrong. (Though admittedly it would be fun to hear them complain about good naturedly)

Seth Meyers is now having his show in a mostly deserted studio, but he continues to deliver great bits on ‘A Closer Look’. He’s still taking shows at the Republicans, but he’s also branching out into being bipartisan with his attacks. Just last night, he went after Andrew Cuomo, being fair to why the world gravitated towards him and equally reasonable as to why Cuomo has been well, a douche. You’d think that with Trump gone from the scene he’d have less fun, but he’s been doing a good job, even though it’s pretty clear there is a bias towards the new administration. He also has a fair chance of going into new territory – he gave a balanced look as to the whole Dr. Seuss ‘controversy’, explained why Dr. Seuss actually had a fuller picture of life then we give him credit for, and then threw in a realistic joke about a real problematic children’s figure – Babar. I had forgotten that Babar marrying his cousin.  I was pleased that he duplicated his win at the Broadcast Critics this year; can an Emmy nomination finally be in the cards?

John Oliver continues to be one of the most entertaining forces in late night. He didn’t expect things to miraculously improve when the Biden administration took office, and has been doing a good job keeping them honest as his work continues. He also continues to focus on subjects that most late night shows – and frankly, most journalism would ignore. He continues to argue for police reform and preparation for the next pandemic and he looked at the flaws of our unemployment system. All in ways you wouldn’t have thought he could – I never thought anybody would find a positive use for Cop Rock (a show which was the gold standard for camp). And he pushes his own way for trying to find solutions, even knowing how hard they will be to obtain. You can understand why he’s won Emmys four consecutive seasons. (Though maybe it’s time for a change.)

There’s only one comedian who I’ve seen who hasn’t changed anything in the last few months. Bill Maher. You’d think after four years of utter chaos, he’d at least be a little happier about things now, especially considering he was one of the earliest comedians to come out for Biden. Nope. If anything, he’s become more unpleasant, which I didn’t think was possible. I’m seriously beginning to wonder just how long even his base will remain devoted to him. Two weeks, he interviewed Megyn Kelly favorably for pulling her kids out of school, rather than deal with political correctness. If he seems aware that he just took on the epitome of white privilege, I think it’s lost on him. And his bits have been increasingly humorless and unenjoyable. Just this week, he ended his New Rules segment in what was a rave as to how well China was doing as a constructive state (something John Oliver pointed out two years ago, while adding that China was ruled by essentially a thug and a dictator) and then complaining that America was a failed state. No solutions, no apologies, and I counted just four real laughs. I can now understand why Maher has so many guests from Fox News; he may disagree entirely with their politics, but their format – where you can just complain about how miserable the country is and offer nothing in return – is essentially what his show has become. The only difference is, he has people who come in to laugh at his jokes.  Frankly Bill, I wish that HBO had stuck with Wyatt Cenac over you. At least, he showed answers to his problems.

 

Yes The World's Depressing, But Does Every Reboot Have to Be?

 

When I learned last week that The Powerpuff Girls one of the most delightful animated series of my youth was being turned into a live-action show for the CW, I was understandably skeptical. Then I learned that it was going to follow the girls, now in their twenties in a darker, edgier world, I finally realized the reboot world has finally jumped the shark. (I’m reluctant to say that for fear that they’ll then reboot Happy Days, set in a Milwaukee where segregation is everywhere, where the Fonz is a juvenile delinquent, and Chachi is a closeted homosexual.)

I know that in these days where hit shows are hard to find, every TV show and movie franchise seems to be an edgier reboot. But it doesn’t take a genius to see that in trying to give these often-decade old franchises some new lights, so many of the filmmakers and showrunners are losing the point of why they’re edgy in the first place. Everyone seems to believe that all of this seems to be at the feet of Christopher Nolan’s reimagining of Batman. (It’s not, but lets use that a jumping off point.) But what Nolan did in the trilogy was manage to show how 21^st Century problems could be reflected inside a comic book series; there have been few better films of any kind that have dealt with the issues of vigilantism, terrorism and what we should do to stop it, and demagogues dealing with the issues of wealth disparity. Where most DC movies have failed since then is that they have concentrated entirely on atmosphere with no attention to deeper stories. (This may be the main reason the Marvel Cinematic Universe has been more successful than that of DC; among their many virtues is that they have never forgotten a sense of humor which had been notably absent from films such Man of Steel and Batman V. Superman.)

Indeed, this was why so many of the CW based DC shows worked in the first place; they were more obscure franchise, but they never stopped to have fun while they were at it. Now, however, so many of the reboots and reimagining we’ve been getting don’t even try to do anything beyond making things edgier. And if you’re going to that, you’d better have something at the bottom. In order to elucidate, let’s look at two very old franchises that have been rebooted; one that basically did everything right, and one that has just gone horribly wrong.

The quintessential example of a reboot where everything spun out of control was Riverdale. Now in its early days, I was willing to give it a fair amount of cheering. This was mainly due to the fact that the Archie Comics have always been the squarest and least interesting of any comic books in the entire history of the medium. Anything to make this world to have more than two dimensions could only hope. Perhaps I should have been warned when the Pilot started with Archie Andrew having an affair with a twentyish Miss Grundy and Cherry Blossom’s twin brother being murdered. But there did seem to be some imagination. Unfortunately very quickly, the show became a cross of the worst parts of Twin Peaks and Criminal Minds, with every season having to deal with another serial killer in the title town. The fact that so many of the characters were self-aware of just how insane things were in Riverdale didn’t make the show any more entertaining; instead, it just made you wonder why anybody was going to this high school and why anyone would want to live there. And the humor that percolated through every other show with some connection Greg Berlanti was completely absent. I abandoned the show halfway through the third season, and I probably stuck with it one season too long. What makes it even harder to grasp is that one of the spinoffs of this series Katy Keene was slightly less nuts but was a lot more entertaining, mainly because the darkness just wasn’t there. Why more people seemed to prefer the reboot of Sabrina frankly boggles the mind.

Going to the other end of the spectrum was last year’s reimagining of Perry Mason. The reason I think it worked so much better than even the original series was because the ‘classic’ version of Perry Mason was as formulaic a series as you could get – we knew practically nothing about Mason, and every show was a mystery proven that his client, who always seemed guilty, was innocent. I have a feeling that it really set the entire courtroom procedure from getting any kind of start at all. What HBO’s version did was go in the complete opposite direction of Riverdale – rather than set the show in the modern era, it took Perry back to the days when the first stories of him were being written in the 1930s. Mason didn’t even start out as an attorney; he was a private eye, a veteran of the Great War, and utterly cynical to the idea that there was justice in the world. This was an attitude that is completely believable for Depression-Era Los Angeles.

I’m not going to deny it was a very dark show – the series opened with a dead baby found with his eyes sewn shut, and the corruption and darkness only got more obvious from there. But what Perry Mason did – and did brilliantly, in my opinion – was take us into a world so dirty that it didn’t need someone who believed in his client’ innocence – Perry had doubts from the beginning – but showed just how false so many of the trademarks of the old shows world were. The prejudice, sexism and utter corruption of the system were so battered, that not even the trademark interrogations of the guilty party could make them confess. (The series beautifully played that out in the opening moments of the finale.) You could make great closing arguments, but you had to get dirty to cover your odds. (We learned in the denouement that one of the jurors had been bribed to hang it – even though it turned out that Mason had actually convinced two others of his client’s innocence.)

It also helped matter that the cast, from Matthew Rhys on down to Tatiana Maslany and Shea Whigham were brilliant to watch from beginning to end, and that it also premiered at a time when the world as a whole was starting to question the integrity of the police and judicial system. This Perry Mason fits our world. Archie Andrews and the rest of his milkshake drinkers do not.

The problem is that so many of the reboots that have come recently seem to be taking all the lessons of the latter show and none of the ones from a former. Nor does this seem likely to stop any time soon – just this past month, reboots of The Equalizer, Walker, Texas Ranger, and what must be the eighteenth version of the Superman story have all premiered.  All this seems to do is leave less room for truly original programming and give more room for streaming and cable to add to their domination of original shows. (Though that’s not going to be a haven either: Gossip Girl is coming to HBO Max in the future.)

I realize it is futile to try and urge television and movies to stop mining old franchises – that’s where the money seems to be, for better or worse. (Mostly worse.) But at the very least, try to show some imagination when your rebooting something other than ending it with ‘for the new millennium.’ (And for God’s sake, please don’t take my idea for a new Happy Days seriously.)

 

How The Guest Hosts of Jeopardy Are Doing So Far

 

It’s been a little more than two months since the last episode that Alex Trebek shot for Jeopardy before his untimely passing last November. Ever since early January, the show has been going through the process of selecting someone to succeed to the unenviable position of taking Alex’s place.

It’s still unclear who will take that job or when it will happen. (It’s my theory that they will not reach a permanent decision until the next season of the show.) But they’ve announced that for the immediate future, there will be guest hosts taking over for short periods. Among those announced for later are such diverse personality as former quarterback Aaron Rodgers, CNN personality Anderson Cooper, and actress/neuroscientist Mayim Bialik. I thought this would be a good opportunity to evaluate the ones who have been doing the job the past two months.

Ken Jennings: In a way, he is the most fitting person for this job: no one outside of Alex Trebek has appeared on more episodes (as a competitor, of course) and he took a staff position this season, reading out categories.  He has always been deferential to Alex, speaking fondly of him in the first few episodes and ending each broadcast with a ‘Thank you, Alex.” He was also aided by having some good champions in his run – Brian Chang, who won seven games and over $163,000 (including a memorable tie breaker) and the return of Zack Newkirk, a four day champion who was unable to appear until travel restrictions eased. (He won two more games before being defeated.) He also demonstrated a superb sense of humor, when one of the contestants wrote down as an incorrect Final Jeopardy: “What is H & R Block?” an answer that ended his marathon streak. That said, he’s still seemed a bit stiff at times, though that may have been inevitable considering how overwhelming it must be to be the first host after Trebek. He might be able to do the job. Ranking: 4 stars.

Mike Richards: When Jennings had to leave to star on the game show The Chase and there was a hiatus for any guest show, Mike who had been the executive producer of the show stepped in. He showed great humility from the start, clearly demonstrated the debt he owed to Alex, and has been embraced by the internet and the critics. In many ways, he has done the best job probably because he spent years simply observing Alex and therefore knew what to do and what not to do. He has just shown up and done his job, simply and without flair and there’s a great deal to be said about that. One almost wishes that he could take on the job permanently, but the age we live in demands celebrity for Alex’s role and Mike simply is not one. He does, however, deserve praise for being a good sport and simply doing his job. How many celebrities just do that?

Ranking: 4.5 stars.

Katie Couric: There was a great deal of significance in Katie Couric being the first woman to ever host Jeopardy for however long. One would like to give her credit for being a pioneer, but so far she seems the least fit for the job. It’s not so much that she does anything wrong – she has a good back and forth with the contestants, has a level of enthusiasm that the other hosts haven’t had, and clearly enjoys being there. It’s more like her personality is more suiting to interviews than to hosting a game show. In truth, the longer I’ve watched her this week, the more she’s seemed to fit in and it is possible that my problems with her are more due to growing pains than anything else. So far, she’s the only one who I can’t see doing the job permanently – though obviously, she clearly can.

My score: 3.5 stars.

 

I’ll be back with more evaluations as the seasons continues, along with any ideas as to who I think most deserves to fill Alex’s shoes.

It's a Bird! It's A Plane! It's...Yet Another CW DC Show...and it's actually not that bad

 

Let’s be honest: After nearly eighty years, it’s hard to find any life left in Superman. It doesn’t help matters that he’s always been the least interesting superhero of the DC universe and maybe the entire comic book world. Movies and television owe him a debt – and for some of us, a curse – but its been really hard to make his story which has been told and retold so many times any fresher. The movies have tried to make him darker, the animated series have generally paled in comparison to those involving Batman, and the TV series have been running on fumes for awhile. It’s very telling that the most successful one – Smallville – followed a young Clark Kent until he donned the cape and tights and then left him alone. The closer Clark came to his destiny, the duller he tended to get.

One might be encouraged that Greg Berlanti, the genius who, for better or worse, has changed how television approaches superheroes has taken on the franchise in Superman and Lois. The problem is, however, most of what made so many of his early shows work – Arrow, Flash and Supergirl, at least in the early seasons – was that so many of their heroes were obscure properties. Berlanti and his creative team were given a fair amount of range mainly because no one was as invested in them as the ‘major’ DC players. By taking on Superman, he puts himself in a quandary because really, at this point, there doesn’t seem to be anything new to say about them.

What Superman & Lois has tried to do in its early episodes is take a different approach. Clark and Lois have already fallen in love and been married for at least fifteen years. They are now trying an angle that hasn’t really been tried (I expect to be told me where and in the comics it has been). Superman and Lois as parents to teenage twin sons.  This is at least, a little more interesting. Clark/Superman and Lois have been shown as the paragons in just about everything that it’s interesting to see that neither is a particularly good parent. Jonathan is relatively well adjusted; Jordan has anxiety disorder and is particularly withdrawn. It is telling that they have yet to tell their children about Clark’s extracurricular activities.

The Kents are drawn back to Smallville, when Martha suffers a fatal heart attack. A series of events leads Jordan and Jonathan to find out about who their father is, and understandably they are not thrilled to know that their dad has been keeping the mother of all secrets of them. Some people were upset that Jonathan and Jordan were not happy to learn their father was the greatest hero in the world. I actually found it one of the more refreshing – and believable – parts of the series. Jordan is still stewing, and to add to the problems, may have some of the Kryptonian genes.

Perhaps the most interesting part of the series involves Clark’s Smallville sweetheart Lana Lang. Lana has generally taken a lot of abuse in whatever Superman franchise she’s been a part of, because she’s not Clark’s soulmate. Now we see Lana grown up, she’s actually far more sympathetic than she’s ever been. A question that’s never been asked was: how did Lana get over the loss of the boy of steel? And the answer appears to be not well? True, she’s married and has two kids, but the marriage has been clearly falling part and Sarah, her daughter attempted suicide a few months earlier. Jordan is drawn to her, but this doesn’t seem so much like a cliché and rather like two damaged people trying to find something to hang on to.

The chemistry is good between Tyler Hoechlin and Elizabeth Tulloch in the title roles; they have an easy rapport that comes not just from being soulmates but partners that have weathered the storm together. And its also refreshing to see that they’re not the best parent in comparison to Martha and Jonathan Kent. The family dynamics are so much more interesting that I almost wish we didn’t have to have the superhero battles and the villains staking Superman and Lois. I realize it’s a necessity for this kind of show, but by this point it’s actually the least interesting part (so far, anyway.) The villain is a Luthor, whose fighting Superman. He’s from the future (or maybe an alternate universe, I’m not sure). Lois’ storyline, trying to bring down media mogul and Superman heavy Morgan Edge is a little more interesting, but it also involves Kryptonians, which got a little tired on Supergirl after awhile.

There are more interesting things about this series than I was willing to give credit for after the Pilot. It grows on you after awhile, by exploring avenues that most of the films and TV have missed but are in Berlanti’s wheelhouse. Almost makes you wonder how the inevitable crossover event will happen. (For the record, I humbly suggest they start with Stargirl. There at least, most of the costumed heroes are in the characters age range.)

My score: 3.5 stars.

Ray Donovan Gets An Ending. Does It Deserve One?

 

A couple of weeks ago, while I was dealing with my predictions for various awards groups, I came across an item. Ray Donovan would be getting a TV movie to wrap up its run which came to an abrupt end in 2020 when it was cancelled before an expected an eighth season – which presumably would’ve wrapped all of the issues facing the Donavan family – was allowed.

Now normally, I’m all for prematurely cancelled series getting a movie or a limited series to wrap up issues that it never got to deal with and bring closure to its devoted fanbase. Certainly I was over the moon when Deadwood finally got a TV movie to close things out in 2019 and was more than fine when Veronica Mars got a new run. (Though in that case, I’m not sure the fans really were when it ended.) What bothers be about Ray Donovan getting this kind of treatment is that I never understood why people would be that loyal in the first place and more to the point, I was never entirely wild about the trends it brought to Peak TV.

Over the past several years, I’ve said more than my fair share of nasty things about Ray Donovan, so rather than regurgitate my old woes, I’m going to concentrate on what the series may have done to hurt the Golden Age.

No one is denying that part of the Golden Age has been its focus on antiheroes, which were usually bad white men. They were at the center of The Sopranos, The Shield, Mad Men and Breaking Bad to mention just the most famous ones. Showtime had actually been altering the trend for much of this period by focusing its series on difficult women: the most popular were Nancy Botwin on Weeds and Jackie Peyton on Nurse Jackie, but there was also more pleasant characters on United States of Tara and The Big C, which won Emmys for Toni Collette and Laura Linney respectively. And their most successful drama launched during this period focused on an anti-heroine Homeland which focused on the brilliant work of Claire Danes at the center. That’s not to say there weren’t series focused on antiheroes of the Tony Soprano-Walter White archetype -  Dexter and Shameless are the biggest success stories of the network. But there was generally far more variety on Showtime in general.

This came to a screeching halt when Ray Donovan debuted in the summer of 2013. From the start, the entire series always rubbed me the wrong way, and I wasn’t alone. I’ve never entirely understood what the appeal was of this character who had all of the worst aspects of the antiheroes of this age with no apparent virtues. He was monotone, philandered repeatedly, seemed to have no moral center, had no attachments even among his large family (something more antiheroes lacked) and was utterly humorless. Liev Schreiber is a great actor, but I’ve repeatedly questioned what he really saw in taking on such utterly flaccid and unredeemable character, who every time he took a step forward, immediately took three steps back.

Ray Donovan premiered just as Dexter and Breaking Bad were departing and Mad Men was going into its final stretch. From this point, the tone of the age changed. Now there came an avalanche of series where there were antiheroes with fewer redeemable qualities and less interesting stories. House of Cards made its debut around the same time, and Netflix would be a series of shows that more often than not would feature bad white men with little influence. I really can’t imagine Ozark existing without Ray Donovan and probably not Mr. Robot. And those were just the more successful ones. Shows with an awful white protagonist became so common that around this time, The Good Wife began to satirize them (no doubt as an in-joke for the fact that the Emmys would recognize cable series with these kinds of characters at the center but not often superior network shows).

Now, I’ll admit that there is a fair amount of the blame that can be laid at Shonda Rhimes’ doorstep for this, but this is the rare occasion where I actually consider her versions the lesser evil. Say what you will about Scandal and How to Get Away With Murder, but at least they tried to be different (women of color at the center, steamy sex, ridiculous twists) Ray Donovan and so many of its ilk were formulaic shows that never tried to be different and descended into messiness with each successive season. There was at least some spark in watching Olivia Pope work; there was no joy in seeing Ray do his thing.

There have just been so many formulaic antihero based dramas ever since Ray first picked up the phone in his L.A. apartment, and a lot of the luster has dimmed from the Golden Age because of it. We still get great shows – The Americans, Better Call Saul, Stranger Things – but I have to admit, they’ve become harder to find. Given all this, it’s kind of frustrating that a formulaic hit like Ray Donovan is getting wrapped up properly, and not a  brilliant series like GLOW, which is pretty much the antithesis of everything Ray Donavan stands for. I have no doubt they’ll be a fairly big audience for it; I’m just not sure who it is and why they felt so devoted it in the first place.