Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s the lure of Stanford football, but this fall’s television offerings have failed to impress. More charitably, the new shows of this year took risks, good and bad, that they ultimately couldn’t sustain or couldn’t sell to a literalist American audience. It’s like a first date: you idealize it, are charitable in your initial post-game analysis, but are ready to jump ship three minutes into date number two. An analysis of what’s hot and not will determine both my winter break television consumption and the trends for next year’s new content.
Perhaps the most contentious topic of discussion has been how to judge whether last year’s pet programs have improved or regressed. I know that, when it comes to “Glee,” I’m like a broken record produced by Ryan Murphy, but I sincerely believe that the show has finally revealed its incomplete skeleton. Addictively flashy narrative distractions such as Darren Criss singing “Teenage Dream,” Gwyneth Paltrow pushing “Forget You” through her nasal cavity and the cast watering down “Rocky Horror” have jacked up ratings at the potential expense of alienating the core fan base and digging the show an even deeper hole of logical impossibility.
Even columnist’s pet “Community” has yet to stake out major goals for the season, instead taking parody to new heights in “Basic Rocket Science” and “Epidemiology.” The often-forgotten “Cougar Town” has embraced the stigma of its name with admirable sarcasm and continues to nail its portrayal of mid-40s life (in fact, I find the college-age plotlines for Travis the least enjoyable). And then there’s “Modern Family,” which in my opinion has been plodding along from week to week and giving every character equal time. The common thread seems to be that these ensemble comedies have shifted from group dynamics to the lives of the individuals, a subtle change that reads to me as a cop-out.
Just as the arrival of these shows last year “redefined” the genre of the family sitcom, this fall has ushered in a new era of buddy detective shows. On FX, “Terriers” has thrived, deftly combining elements of mystery and drama with the natural humor of its charismatic male leads. Another under-the-radar Fox show, “The Good Guys,” features Bradley Whitford of “The West Wing” and Colin Hanks of “Tom” as Dallas detectives disparate in age and worldview. “The Defenders” from CBS brings Jim Belushi and Jerry O’Connell together in the sudsy world of Las Vegas law, and with names like that, this “comedy-drama” errs more on the side of the former.
Notably, these are male-dominated combinations. TNT’s “Rizzoli & Isles” has been renewed for a second season on the strength of its female leads, one a detective and the other a medical examiner; however, ABC cancelled “The Whole Truth” when the pairing of a male prosecutor and a female defense attorney didn’t click with audiences (see also the stilted comedy of Arnett and Russell on “Running Wilde,” the early end to “My Boys” for failed experiments in mixed gender). The inherent levity of male bonding has endeared itself to the most lucrative demographics.
Shows such as these have proven to be the safe bets they were surely developed as, but a juxtaposition of paid and basic cable programming highlights the benefits of informed risk-taking. This fall, HBO and Showtime rolled out new projects such as “Boardwalk Empire” and “The Big C” while hyping stalwarts such as “Weeds,” “Dexter,” “Eastbound and Down” and “Bored to Death.” The returners have not inspired much enthusiasm in their considerable fan bases, and I just couldn’t get into life on the “Boardwalk.” The period-piece nature was almost too immersive, too cinematic for me to return after the first few episodes. “The Big C” initially bored me with upper-middle-class white problems, but has proven adventurous.
Nevertheless, the innovations of the fall, and very likely the future of television, are available on basic cable. The Shakespearean biker-gang saga of “Sons of Anarchy,” the ingenuity of “The Walking Dead” and the incomparable humanity of “Mad Men” make the case that paid cable budgets are not necessary or sufficient conditions for art.
Finally, the admittedly oft-neglected genre in this column, reality television, cried out for attention this fall. “Dancing with the Stars” unexpectedly, though perhaps not unintentionally, thrust itself into the political arena as the war of talent versus notoriety between Jennifer Grey and Bristol Palin came to a head. There’s nothing like an inquiry into the ethics of reality television production to remind us of human fallibility.
Similarly, “Jersey Shore” continued to take the world by storm, dominating Thursday nights and cementing MTV’s cultural relevance. I personally have been caught in the spell of Tyra Banks, as I have followed the 15th cycle of “America’s Next Top Model” to Italy, where either Chelsea or Ann will further worsen America’s reputation abroad when one of them undeservingly graces the pages of Vogue Italia. The self-congratulatory attitude of the judges regarding this prize has certainly attracted attention, though perhaps not in the way Tyra had hoped.
Love ABC Family’s “25 Days of Christmas” ode to clay animation as I do, I look forward to catching up on sleep, vegetables and television this winter break as part of a healthy diet. I will do my best also to expand my repertoire to continue to bring you a simultaneously negative but adoring perspective on America’s greatest pastime, couch sports. Happy holidays, everyone!