I have made little secret
in my years as a columnist how much I truly loathe Shonda Rhimes and all the
series that she and her ilk have created over the past two decades. However, it
was not until fairly recently that I came into a deeper understanding as to not
only why I bare her such disgust but also the real reason why so many
other people worship her and her shows. It may surprise you that this is not so
much a problem of quality as it is labeling, both by Rhimes and her writers as
well as too many critics and fans.
To explain the reasoning
one has to go back to the beginning of Rhimes’ success – and then just a few
months before that to the fall of 2004. For those of you whose memories of what
television was like back then, it’s worth a brief refresher, one that as both a
historian and an observer of that period am more than qualified to write about.
Back then what was
considered the Golden Age of TV was limited in scope compared to how it would
be a few years. HBO was pretty much the only game in town when it came to
revolutionary cable shows. FX had exploded on to the scene with The Shield two
years earlier but had yet to make much of an impact beyond that; Showtime was
dipping its toes in the water but still not much of a success and AMC wasn’t
really doing anything at all. Network television was pretty much fighting with
HBO for television perfection and at that time, they showed no signs of surrendering
though each had taken different approaches.
NBC was unfortunately too
invested in the long-running hits such as ER, Law & Order, and the
remnants of Must-See TV that would all basically be gone before the decade was
over, leaving the cupboards bare when it came to hits (but not inspiration).
CBS was already becoming the home for procedurals and little else; by this fall,
the third franchise in the CSI series would debut. Fox was more ambitious
during this period, and American Idol would eventually help boost
struggling shows like 24 and House to huge success. ABC was
looking in the worst shape going into 2004; indeed the head of broadcasting
Lloyd Braun was on the verge of being fired. Before he was, however, he
greenlit a series of shows that would propel ABC into the forefront of being
both a critical and ratings success for the rest of the decade. (Indeed, he
actually came up with the concept for Lost, whose creation and success
are among the most improbable in the history of television.)
But the most important
series that ended up debuting that fall appeared on Sundays. I will go on
record as saying that I actually wrote a very long editorial column to the
producers of ABC expressing my outrage at their decision to postpone one of my
favorite shows of the time Alias until the following January. I berated
their history at cancelling promising series before (the cancellations of Sports
Night and Once and Again were still raw in my memories) and argued
that I had no faith at all in their capabilities to produce a successful series
(not outside logic at the time). What series, I wrote, could possibly be as
worthy of the viewers time more than Alias?
That September, Desperate
Housewives debuted in Alias’ old time-slot and became one of the
biggest hits in television history. I will confess to being a huge fan from day
one. At the time, I was just as likely to watch reruns of soap operas than
anything ‘classy’ and the cast of Teri Hatcher, Marcia Cross, Felicity Huffman
and Nicolette Sheridan was more than
enough to lure me in.
To be clear, then and now,
no one could mistake Desperate Housewives for being at the same level of
The Sopranos, Six Feet Under or any of the HBO series that were running
against it. I certainly didn’t. I also didn’t care. For the next six and half
seasons (I only stopped watching because The Good Wife starting running
against it in the final season), I spent most of my Sundays on Wisteria Lane
trying to figure out the increasingly ridiculous and bizarre mysteries that
involved all the title characters. Increasingly Marc Cherry’s vision of a
satire of a soap opera became as outrageous as any soap and just as ridiculous. That never bothered me, any more than its slow
decline in quality. What was clear to be then – and what seems to have been
lost now – is that as much as Peak TV is smart and gloomy, sometimes when it comes
to television, you need to turn your brain off for a while and just watch a
show because its fun. Maybe its just
campy, maybe its dumb fun, but its still fun. Desperate Housewives was a
water-cooler show in a way that few series have ever been since. We didn’t talk
about it because we were trying to solve the puzzles we did every week on Lost
or we were reeling over the stunning deaths on 24 or because we were
trying to figure out the meaning of what might be happening on Mad Men each episode. We were watching the show
mainly to comment on the absurdities that so many of the characters were
getting into every week.
And there were a lot of us
– the first season averaged between 20 and 25 million viewers week. Because
success can breed success, this helped boost the series that came immediately
after Desperate Housewives on Sunday nights, David E. Kelley’s follow-up
to The Practice, Boston Legal. To be clear, this series would probably
have been a success on its own, though not nearly as massive. James Spader and
William Shatner had already won Emmys for playing these characters on The
Practice the previous season (and would do so again the coming one) and
David E. Kelley’s series had a greater track record to this point. And it’s
mainly because Boston Legal’s season ended in March of 2005 that started
the rise of Shondaland.
For those who only
remember a time when Grey’s Anatomy was around, it’s hard to believe
that it originally debuted in March of 2005 as what amounted to a mid-season
replacement. Then, as now, midseason series were almost always shows that
networks had no faith in to debut at the start of the fall, and indeed the first season of Grey’s only aired
nine episodes. It did not run after Desperate Housewives because ABC
thought it was a worthy companion to the show; basically it was there to fill a
gap in the schedule until the end of the season. The fact that it might do very
well in the ratings was considered a possibility, but it was not one that
necessarily guaranteed success going forward: there have been countless shows
that start out as successes in the fall or mid-season and collapse when they
have to stand on their own.
And unlike the raves that
came for Desperate Housewives and Lost, the initial reactions to Grey’s
Anatomy was underwhelming, if not downright hostile. Ellen Pompeo’s title
character was considered an insipid whiner, utterly unsuited to be the lead of
a series. (This opinion lasted well into the show next couple of years.) Many
critics, who had been expecting a medical drama, were disappointed at the fact
that they were basically seeing a show with a lot of young people getting naked
and having sex. And the opening title sequence put off every critic who watched
it (it was discarded completely by the middle of Season 2). Some critics did
acknowledge the talent of Sandra Oh, Patrick Dempsey and Isaiah Washington, but
mainly in the sense of: “What are such good actors like these doing in a show
like this?”
Grey’s Anatomy was a success and indeed
get renewed for a second season. It received three Emmy nominations that year,
including the first of what would be five consecutive Supporting Actress nominations
for Sandra Oh. It made enough of an impression that in the 2005-2006 season, it
remained on Sunday from the beginning to end. (It did not move to its Thursday
night home until the beginning of the 2006-2007.) The fan base did continue to
expand, critical reception did overall improve, and ABC eventually did get
enough faith in the show to have it follow the 2006 Super Bowl. That, along
with the fact that it aired its first real ‘event’ episode’ (‘The End of the World,
in which Meredith finds herself dealing with a live round of explosive ammunition
in a patient’s chest) almost certainly cemented it as a hit series. (In a way,
I believe the two parter is the high point of Grey’s Anatomy creatively
and the Emmys agreed, both Kyle Chandler and Christina Ricci received
nominations for their appearances.)
But while audiences have
loved the show ever since, I think the reason that so many do has more to do
with where it was originally scheduled than anything else. Not so much because
it followed Desperate Housewives, but because it was, in a very real
sense, much the same kind of series. It’s just that fans – and indeed Shonda
Rhimes herself – deny it, not only about Grey’s Anatomy¸ but every other
series that Shondaland has produced in all the years following.
Because I watched a lot of
medical shows before, during and after this period. I spent many years thinking
Chicago Hope was superior to ER, though now I realize the latter was
as good as people said it was. I discovered House three months before
the world did. I was one of the few people who consider Scrubs as close
as this millennium will ever get to MASH in terms of both humor and
desperation. And around the same time, a satellite channel began to air reruns
of St. Elsewhere, a medical drama all others owe a debt too.
And under no circumstances
could you accept any of the behavior that any of the doctors or residents do at
any time on Grey’s Anatomy as being acceptable on any other medical drama
to that point in history and well beyond it. The storyline involving Denny Duquette,
in which Izzie Stevens slowly but surely falls in love with him, is something
that I’ve never seen any other medical drama even dare to try because it would
never be allowed to progress that far. The fact that every other resident knows
about it and does nothing was one thing; the fact that the attendings knew
about and did nothing is another. And the fact that it eventually ended with Stevens
cutting the L-Vat wire on Denny so he could receive a heart that was going to
go to another patient goes beyond the standards that any medical advisor would
consider permissible. And there were never any consequences, not just for
Stevens but for anybody. I believe the only punishment the residents
faced was they had to host a prom for the chief of staff’s sick niece, during which
Denny died. Stevens confessed her sin and resigned – and early in Season 3 was
back in Seattle Grace with no consequences to her career. Two seasons later,
the patient who had lost that heart ended up in Seattle Grace, and when
the attending learned the truth, she protested to the staff – and there were no
consequences then. (The character left the show in the next episode and the
whole storyline was forgotten. I guess the guy died. Oh well.)
And during the five
seasons I ended up watching the series, there were countless storylines like
this that I haven’t the heart to go into. None of them would be accepted as
believable on ER or Scrubs or, hell, Chicago Med. Because none
of them meet the standard of acceptable hospital behavior. What they do meet
the standard of is a soap opera.
And if you consider not
only Grey’s Anatomy but every other success Shondaland has had, their mass
acceptance makes perfect sense. Scandal is not a political drama where we watch the
backrooms of DC; it’s a show where we’re given insight into the bedrooms of the
powerful. How to Get Away with Murder is not a legal drama about a brilliant
criminal attorney and the students who she takes under her wing; it’s a
potboiler about the bedroom habits of her students and how they screw each
other over (and each other generally) at the cost of everyone else. Bridgerton
is not a regency romance about relationships between the upper-class; it’s showing
that in the 19th century people were as dirty as they are today. The
only Shondaland series that wasn’t a soap opera (in fact, it had practically no
sex at all) was the legal drama For The People. This series was a
brilliant drama that dealt with relevant issues and blind spots in the justice
system on both sides, had a superb cast and was exceptionally well-written. It
was cancelled after two seasons and How to Get Away With Murder was renewed
for its sixth. The big difference was one legal drama had a lot more sex and ‘revelations.’
Viewed in this lens, all
the ridiculous things that have happened on Grey’s Anatomy over the
years - having sex with ghosts, ridiculous numbers of traumas happening to the
doctors, characters marrying each other, divorcing, then getting back together,
completely arbitrary deaths to regulars – make perfect sense. Back when Melrose Place was on the
air, when a character wanted to leave, they generally died in ridiculous
fashion. Kristin Davis drunkenly slipped and drowned in the apartment complex
swimming pool while people were a few feet away. Laura Leighton’s character was
killed in a hit and run by a criminal father of another resident of the
complex. Doug Savant’s character actually left alive, but when they need certain
secrets revealed the writers killed him off for the sole purpose of
everybody getting his diary and learning them. In that context, the decision to have Lexie
Grey’s character not merely die in a plane crash but be eaten by wolves is
perfectly logical.
And none of this would
bother me so much were it not that critics and Rhimes herself fundamentally
deny that her shows are soap operas. They’re shows about female friendship, they’re
shows about powerful black women taking down the system, they’re shows about
the downtrodden showing how powerful they are – they are anything but show
where pretty people screw each other senseless, ridiculous things happen every
episode, and people die in bizarre fashion. They’re soap operas in other words.
And I don’t entirely blame
Rhimes or even some critics or fans for arguing otherwise. One of the misfortunes
of Peak TV is that so many critics and fans seem they have to justify the
reason that they are watching shows like Scandal or Bridgerton than
say, Yellowjackets or This is Us.
Because there’s too much TV on for anyone to handle, we feel we have
to argue why we’re watching dumb comedies or ridiculous soap operas rather than
all of the stuff are friends are telling us too. So we try to find reasons that
are bigger than they are to watch a show like Nashville or Empire rather
than the fact that is just ridiculous fun. We can’t have guilty pleasures in
the era of Peak TV, at least not for that reason.
The thing is, we
shouldn’t have to. A guilty pleasure is still a pleasure. Even as a TV critic
I know there’s a lot of great TV out there that is smart and wonderful watch,
but sometimes you just need to turn your brain off and have fun.
In the fall of 2020 a dark
time for the world, I found myself watching Filthy Rich, a ridiculous
soap opera featuring Kim Cattrall as the matriarch of a televangelist who is
the head of a commercial empire. It was one of the most brainless and
ridiculous I ever watched, with silly performances and characters. It had no
redeeming values at all. I watched every episode and was sad when it ended up
being cancelled.
Granted during that same
period, there was almost no television at all for anybody to watch, but honestly
I probably would have watched it under other circumstances. I wouldn’t pretend to
put it in the same terms as The Undoing or the fourth season of Fargo
both of which I watched just as loyally at the same time, but I was just as
sad when Filthy Rich was done when the other, far more brilliant series
were.
What separates Grey’s
Anatomy from Filthy Rich is, frankly, pretention. Not merely from that
of Rhimes and her fans but the built-in feelings that so many of us seem to
have when we get when he defend a show we love. This is something that critics
can be as guilty as fans are at times. We want to see values or depth to series
we loved when really the only reason we have to love them as because we enjoy
them. Perhaps your definition of why you like a series is different than mine.
That’s to be expected. Perhaps the reason I consider so many shows ‘overrated’
is because the pretentions that fans of these series seem to be oblivious are
crystal clear to me. That’s the reason I dislike them, but it’s not a reason
you have too. (Award shows are another matter, but I’ll save that for a
different column and a different show.)
I have always thought the
world would benefit more from honesty about all things, and I think that applies
to TV as anything. So to critics and
fans who say they like a show for a certain reason, just tell us why you really
like it. Don’t say you love Succession because it’s a brilliantly
crafted series about psychodrama and family dynamics; say you love it because
it’s a series where miserable rich people treat each other horribly and shout ridiculously profane insults at each
other. Don’t say you love Euphoria because it’s a deep portrayal of
teenage dissatisfaction drug addiction; say you love because it’s a ridiculous
over-the-top campy show with a lot of back-fighting and nudity. Don’t say you
love Grey’s Anatomy because its one of the most towering medical dramas
in the history of television; say you love it because it’s over the top soap
opera and you can’t wait to see which character will sleep with who next. You
don’t have to lie to us why you enjoy a series and you certainly don’t have to
lie to yourself either. Television is essentially a solitary affair, and what
you choose to watch in the privacy of your home – and why you watch it – shouldn’t
matter to anybody but you.
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