In an effort to return this blog to its weightless, trivial roots in utterly useless minutiae and pop culture detritus, I thought maybe I’d talk a little bit about the new fall television season, as seen through the eyes of a TiVo-beholden parent of a toddler big enough to find the entertainment system endlessly fascinating but not yet quite cognizant of the fact that no your fingers don’t go there that’s for Daddy’s DVDs. I sometimes think that we don’t get to watch that much TV anymore (or simply aren’t interested), but as I think about the (ir)regular viewing schedule we’re on, that’s probably not entirely true.
Mondays: I think we’re still taping EVERYONE LOVES RAYMOND, but I’ll be damned if I can remember the last time I watched it, so apparently, NOT EVERYONE.
Tuesday: SCRUBS. Val has commented more than once that my pal Casey and I would probably be an awful lot like JD and Turk if we worked together in real life. Probably best that we don’t. Also, it pleases me no end that this show remains as gleefully absurdist as ever (though last season’s ep with Brendan Fraser remains probably one of the most moving half-hours of television I’ve ever seen — proving, like SPORTSNIGHT did five years ago, that one can do comedy and drama in the same twenty-five minute span and make it convincing.)
Wednesday: LOST. Holy cow, was this AWESOME. Both parts of the pilot are airing in a rerun this Saturday night — and man, if it’s not one hell of a setup. I can’t possibly imagine how you’d credibly stretch this show out beyond more than a year or so — but then, I suppose that’s the mark of the potential of a good show, because if you could predict it, it wouldn’t be all that much fun, would it? (Who else screamed “WEISS!” upon the castaways’ discovery of the pilot?) (More: I almost wish they hadn’t actually shown the Monster at the end of last night’s — the whole thing was, quite frankly, MUCH more terrifying when I didn’t have the slightest idea what was in the jungle.)
SMALLVILLE. Shut up, I like Superman.
Thursday: THE APPRENTICE, God help me. The cast is much more hateable this year — don’t know if that was the producers’ intention or not. Val points out that Trump’s ascension to godhood is much further along this year; see, e.g., the trumpet fanfare that blares in the lobby of Trump Plaza as The Donald and his entourage of hatchetfolk descend the escalators toward the waiting contestants. Much more arbitrary this time around, too, which displeases me. This was supposed to be about who was performing the best, after all, not a predetermined outcome shaped specifically for television. Also: isn’t TRUMP: THE GAME like, twenty years old?
Friday: for the time being, reruns of THE PRISONER on BBCAmerica. Never had the chance to see most of this series, and they’ve been running it in “chronological order”, or at least as best one can do, given the slightly nonlinear nature of the series. Those who’ve heard of it will smile and nod at the thought of watching the more-than-slightly-mental series unspool for the first time, and reflect on just how much its inherent paranoia informed later works like Grant Morrison’s THE INVISIBLES; those who haven’t, should.
Sunday: THE WIRE. Third season just started up, and renewed my love for this series. Stringer Bell may be one of the single best “villains” (a word which doesn’t really apply in this instance, but go with me on this) in television, ever — ruthless, clever, a drug kingpin as middle manager/small business owner. It’s an incredibly smart drama that’s a lot more involving than the police procedurals that capture the public’s attention (CSI, LAW & ORDER, *snort* MEDICAL INVESTIGATIONS, NAVY NCIS, RENO 911).
Waiting in the wings: ALIAS (lame-o cliffhanger needs to be resolved — in this episode, Sydney reads a piece of paper and is shocked by the arrangement of words on the page!), THE WEST WING (which I’m kind of not even really looking forward to — what does that tell you?)… Man, I think that’s it. Wow. Funny how, when we’ve got the least amount of time to spend on it, most of what we’re watching is dependent on continuous, sequential viewing rather than piecemeal status-quo-preserving television.
