Wednesday, August 01, 2007 Rant Archive
MY BOYS was last season’s highest-rated comedy on an advertiser supported cable network. Does that mean there’s actually a future for warm and fuzzy comedies? Let’s hope so.
Can men and women be platonic friends, buddies who never think about sex with each other? It’s a question that has plagued the ancient philosophers at least since the time of WHEN HARRY MET SALLY. MY BOYS, which began its second season (TBS, Mondays at 10 p.m.) with back-to-back episodes, also asks that rhetorical question. It just doesn’t answer it.
The show is centered on PJ Franklin (Jordana Spiro), who is cute, smart, a life-long Cubs fan, a sports writer for the Sun-Times, a provider of a crash pad for the needy and, most important, a poker-playing, beer-drinking buddy to an assorted crew of ragamuffins.
Last year, PJ consummated a relationship with one of them, Bobby (Kyle Howard), a reporter for the rival Tribune, which made both of them feel awkward. They are now friends. But at the end of last year, PJ and Brendan (Reid Scott) kissed. They clearly like each other, but don’t act on it, partly in fear of destroying the group dynamic. But of course not acting on it has its affects, too.
Trying to run a business while servicing the needs of three wives isn’t easy. And having two angry sect leaders wanting to take over your company. Well, even the best of men will need a night off.
I have to admit I was distracted watching the latest episode of BIG LOVE. This despite several exciting plot lines that moved ever closer to thrilling denouements; I, on the other hand, was busy doing the math.
It began when Bill Henrickson (Bill Paxton) called his three wives together and asked for one night off a week. It seemed a reasonable request; after all, Bill is now in his mid-40s or so, an age when keeping one spouse, uh, let’s say content on a daily basis becomes more chore than passion. Staying willing and fresh for three, well, that’s why I was doing the math. Let’s see. Sex every night for how many years? Carry the two, multiply by three.
Frankly, my admiration for Bill and his stamina grew. But then the problems started. Barb (Jeanne Tripplehorn), wife number one, objected. She’d seen her nights with Bill reduced from seven a week to just two and a fraction as he added more wives, and she wasn’t going to take it anymore.
Pre-credit sequences are always chock-full of interesting information. That’s usually where the hook is set for the newest episode, or a good joke is set up, or in the case of DAMAGES, a useful tip is given to the audience. This week’s gem: Don’t miss with Lady Liberty. Even at bookend size, she packs a hell of a wallop, as David Connor (Noah Bean), fiancé to erstwhile protagonist Ellen Parsons (Rose Byrne), discovers as his last lesson in this life. Also, put screens on the windows of your Manhattan apartment, ‘cause those damn pigeons get everywhere.
The noose is nowhere near tight, but there is a sense of fate slowly circling these characters. Arthur Frobisher (Ted Danson), the corporate mogul who is facing a massive stock fraud suit, is feeling the strands curling around him; his wife is pressuring him to settle the case, and the strain on his family is starting to eat at him. Katie Connor (Anastasia Griffith), Ellen’s future sister-in-law, is being haunted both by a business agreement with Frobisher and past indiscretions that are coming to light as part of the case. Patty Hewes (Glenn Close), the lead litigator pursuing Frobisher, is pulling on more strings than an orchestra, but even the puppet master has weaknesses; troubles with her son are sneaking past her armor and bleeding her mojo slowly away. Of course, Hewes has more mojo than any three bloodthirsty litigators, so she’s likely got the sauce to finish the case.
A good serial drama usually has more than one plot and set of pieces happening at any one time, because hey, life is pretty damn complicated and rarely do events happen in a nice linear stretch. DAMAGES is on track to have enough pieces for a couple of mere mortal dramas. Hell, just keeping track of all the balls Patty is juggling would be enough for a regular show, and that doesn’t count the other major characters and their assorted baggage-strewn subplots. Of course, this only works if the acting and writing are up to snuff, because nobody would give a rat’s ass if the writers and actors couldn’t carry it off.
Virtual therapy devices. Talking houses. Computers that squeeze the power of a mainframe into a package smaller than an iPod. And this week, magical vanishing people that draw their histories and existence behind them like Alice going down the rabbit hole. Things are never dull in Eureka. I haven’t made up my mind yet whether life for Sheriff Jack Carter (Coin Ferguson) would be giddy fun or adrenaline-fueled terror if this town was real, but I suspect it would be somewhere in-between.
Anyway, the plot: Sheriff Carter has an eventful morning in Eureka. His ex-wife Abby (Olivia d’Abo) is getting ready for daughter Zoë (Jordan Hinson) to come back with her to L.A., which has Carter in deep denial. Meanwhile, Henry (Joe Morton) starts his first day back at Global, in the lab that once belonged to his old flame Kim, and scientists are, as usual, working on transuranic elements off-campus without permission. I mean, wouldn’t you?
While visiting one such naughty scientist, Carter gets bonked on the head by said scientist’s quantum whirligig, then goes home and gets into an argument with Zoë, who is using a virtual therapy device Beverly (Debrah Farentino) left her before vamoosing from town. Now feeling blue, Carter goes on about his day, only to find various citizens vanishing in the occasional blaze of light, and those who are left have no memory of the disappeared. As Eureka shrinks, Carter becomes more and more fearful, as the count spirals down to just Carter … and Zoë.
Mad Men is a fresh burst of style and creative story telling that is seriously missing since the Soprano’s disappeared into abrupt darkness. Created by Matthew Weiner, an Emmy® Award-winning executive producer of “The Sopranos”, Mad Men is instantaneously intriguing much in the same way Tony Soprano grabbed our attention 7 years ago.
Weiner sets Mad Men in early 1960, when America has come into its heyday. The Depression is well over and World War II is won. It’s time to reap the rewards, and the ad agencies of Madison Ave are defining the new culture of American prosperity.
The setting is sleek and stylish, and the characters live by the rules of the day, which are light-years from our politically correct present. Everyone smokes, drinks hard, drive without seatbelts, and women are relegated to the secretarial pool or the kitchen.
The Mad Men, slang for Madison Ave. ad executives, are lead by creative director Don Draper (Jon Hamm). Draper is a man of his time, confident, capable and charming. His chiseled jaw good looks reflects a quiet confidence that impresses clients, attracts women, and intimidates underlings.