Of course I watched it. There was nothing else on last night anyway and, if someone insists on parading the train wreck that is their marriage in front of the nation, I take that as an invitation to bear witness. Watching people who hate each other hate each other will quickly get old, but for now here are the lessons I learned:
1. If you're going to recline casually on a couch with your shoes off in order to announce your separation and impending divorce, do everyone a favor: wash your feet first. I'm talking to you, Kate.
2. Marketing folks need to understand that product placement in "reality" shows can sometimes be a little too serendipitous. Here we had an episode entitled "Crooked Houses" in which the house of Gosselin finally teetered over, and an episode that was at once about the building of separate play houses for the kids and the movement into separate houses by the parents. There's also the creepy specter of a product-sponsored separation announcement. Crooked, indeed.
3. If you have eight children and ask, "Who wants a granola bar?" expect that all eight will want a granola bar. Do not ask this if you in fact only have five granola bars. And, once you have posed this question only to find that you only have five granola bars, try breaking them in half so that everyone gets some, rather than saying, "Oh well I only have five so no one gets a granola bar." In other words, learn how to count, biyatch.
4. The main fault for the demise of a marriage lies with those in the marriage. The paparazzi didn't do it.
5. "Agreeance" is in fact a word but its usage is considered obsolete, having been replaced by "agreement." If you want to appear erudite, spend some time perusing a usage dictionary.
6. Times of great stress, for example taping your reality show while simultaneously ending your marriage, call for one thing: a picnic with the kids in the middle of the yard, which your soon-to-be-ex husband must watch because he hasn't been invited.
Lessons learned. Time to move on.
Showing posts with label network executives. Show all posts
Showing posts with label network executives. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Thursday, April 2, 2009
I Pay a Cable Bill for This?
One thing Richard Nixon had right was his statement that only Americans can humiliate the United States. Several years ago, the writers of a popular BBC program were faced with a dilemma. Although they had planned out a long-running series centered around a mystery, their star was leaving the show after two seasons. The star was so central to the mystery that he appeared in every shot, every scene. They would have to wrap things up prematurely.
The series was Life on Mars, in which a cop from contemporary Manchester is hit by a car and wakes up a cop in Manchester in 1973. Was he dead? In a coma? A time traveler? Insane? Whatever direction the show's creators initially envisioned, they found themselves bound to quickly wrap things up. So here's what they came up with: the hero, Sam Tyler, was in fact in a coma, 1973 some netherworld between life and death but a world that felt quite real. The coma was caused by a brain tumor that the car accident shook loose, or something. Contemporary Sam Tyler undergoes surgery and awakens, restored to his real life. But he finds himself alienated, unable to feel, unable to fit in. He realizes that he was happier in the dream world of 1973. So he jumps off a roof in order to return to that world. The seconds before the real Sam's death become years lived in his ideal world of the past.
Someone had the great idea to remake the series in America. American Sam is hit by a car and wakes up in 1973 New York. Same situation, same characters. But American Life on Mars never caught on, and the show was canceled. However, the writers were allowed to finish the series, bring everything to a close. Like their UK counterparts they had to do this quickly, and had to find some way of ending things despite whatever long-term plotting they had envisioned.
What do they do? They decide to take the title of the show literally. Sam Tyler is in fact an astronaut, lying in suspended animation on his way to Mars in the year 2035. For whatever reason he asked that the dream he be given for his two-year sleep be that he is a cop in 2009. The spaceship hit a meteor shower, it turns out, causing a computer glitch that made him dream that his 2009 dream self had been sent back to 1973. He awakens, we discover that all the 1973 characters are his coworkers on the voyage, and they land on Mars. There was no mystery. End of story.
WTF? Our teeth may be better, our most disgusting food may be much less disgusting than their most disgusting food, but clearly the British are much better at providing sensible narrative closure. The BBC ordered a sequel to LoM, and the only good that comes out of the American ending to the series is the fact that it renders the possibility of a US sequel moot.
The series was Life on Mars, in which a cop from contemporary Manchester is hit by a car and wakes up a cop in Manchester in 1973. Was he dead? In a coma? A time traveler? Insane? Whatever direction the show's creators initially envisioned, they found themselves bound to quickly wrap things up. So here's what they came up with: the hero, Sam Tyler, was in fact in a coma, 1973 some netherworld between life and death but a world that felt quite real. The coma was caused by a brain tumor that the car accident shook loose, or something. Contemporary Sam Tyler undergoes surgery and awakens, restored to his real life. But he finds himself alienated, unable to feel, unable to fit in. He realizes that he was happier in the dream world of 1973. So he jumps off a roof in order to return to that world. The seconds before the real Sam's death become years lived in his ideal world of the past.
Someone had the great idea to remake the series in America. American Sam is hit by a car and wakes up in 1973 New York. Same situation, same characters. But American Life on Mars never caught on, and the show was canceled. However, the writers were allowed to finish the series, bring everything to a close. Like their UK counterparts they had to do this quickly, and had to find some way of ending things despite whatever long-term plotting they had envisioned.
What do they do? They decide to take the title of the show literally. Sam Tyler is in fact an astronaut, lying in suspended animation on his way to Mars in the year 2035. For whatever reason he asked that the dream he be given for his two-year sleep be that he is a cop in 2009. The spaceship hit a meteor shower, it turns out, causing a computer glitch that made him dream that his 2009 dream self had been sent back to 1973. He awakens, we discover that all the 1973 characters are his coworkers on the voyage, and they land on Mars. There was no mystery. End of story.
WTF? Our teeth may be better, our most disgusting food may be much less disgusting than their most disgusting food, but clearly the British are much better at providing sensible narrative closure. The BBC ordered a sequel to LoM, and the only good that comes out of the American ending to the series is the fact that it renders the possibility of a US sequel moot.
Monday, December 22, 2008
All I Want for Christmas
'Tis the season to give DVD box sets, and a quick perusal of Amazon demonstrates the fact that nearly each and every TV show, no matter how stupid, eventually finds its way into release. Are there really that many people interested in owning the complete According to Jim? Apparently so. Meanwhile, all sorts of really good television sits in the vaults, unreleased. Santa, I've made my list. Please release the following on DVD for me, and place the box sets in my stocking. You'll be doing the entire world a favor.
China Beach. How is it possible that this excellent show is not available on DVD? Sure, it was depressing, but isn't the Vietnam War by definition depressing? It had a great cast, including but not limited to Dana Delaney and Marge Helgenberger, and it was ahead of its time in its use of flash forwards, flash backs, intercut interviews set in the present, and all kinds of storytelling that was, at the time, unique for television. I have been baffled for years by the fact that not a single season or episode of this series is currently available.
Homefront. Remember Homefront? You should. It replaced thirtysomething Tuesdays at 10 on ABC. It had a great ensemble including Kyle Chandler and John Slattery. Sure, it was a period drama, and I'm one of the few people who likes period dramas, especially those set in mythical, midwestern American in the middle of WWII. It was really good. It only lasted two seasons. The whole series could fit on about four discs. Release it already! And while we're on the subject, another series in serious need of DVD treatment is
thirtysomething. Oh, those self-obsessed Philadelphia yuppies with their shoulder pads and their careers and their search for fulfillment. Gary looked just like Bjorn Borg, and he died! Nancy was a saint, and she had cancer! Melissa was a goof, and had a great loft! Ellen was punished for being a single career woman by hooking up with men who were way too ugly! Miles! Miles! Michael and Hope's dog was named Grendel! Seriously, who wouldn't buy this?
Sisters. Yes, it was an evening soap and yes, at times it was stupid. But come on, George Clooney was on for a while. And it starred Sela Ward and Swoozie Kurtz. This show was too fun to be locked away in a vault somewhere.
All My Children. No, I'm not crazy enought to desire each and every episode of the past 38 years released on DVD. All I want is a couple of discs that feature highlights from the 1970s, the show's golden age. I want to see some Tara. I want Donna when she's a prostitute, and the evil Billy Clyde Tuggle, who filled the void left by the evil pimp Tyrone. I want some young Erica Kane. This doesn't seem to me like too much to ask.
Life on Mars (UK series released for Region One, USA). Everyone says the original UK version is superior to the US remake. I like the remake fine, but have only seen maybe two of the original episodes on BBC America. It's out on DVD for Region 2, which of course won't work on my player. Please, people, reformat the thing so I can make unfair comparisions between the two just like everyone else.
Ed. Oh, it was somewhat dopey and sappy. A high-powered lawyer is cuckolded by his fiancee, ditches everything, and moves back to his picture-perfect hometown, where he buys a bowling alley for his law practice and pines for his high school love, who is now a high school teacher. But the performances were strong, and on cold winter nights, there's nothing like some sap to warm you up. This lasted a couple of seasons on NBC, and there's no reason in the world why it hasn't been released.
OK, Santa, get to work.
China Beach. How is it possible that this excellent show is not available on DVD? Sure, it was depressing, but isn't the Vietnam War by definition depressing? It had a great cast, including but not limited to Dana Delaney and Marge Helgenberger, and it was ahead of its time in its use of flash forwards, flash backs, intercut interviews set in the present, and all kinds of storytelling that was, at the time, unique for television. I have been baffled for years by the fact that not a single season or episode of this series is currently available.
Homefront. Remember Homefront? You should. It replaced thirtysomething Tuesdays at 10 on ABC. It had a great ensemble including Kyle Chandler and John Slattery. Sure, it was a period drama, and I'm one of the few people who likes period dramas, especially those set in mythical, midwestern American in the middle of WWII. It was really good. It only lasted two seasons. The whole series could fit on about four discs. Release it already! And while we're on the subject, another series in serious need of DVD treatment is
thirtysomething. Oh, those self-obsessed Philadelphia yuppies with their shoulder pads and their careers and their search for fulfillment. Gary looked just like Bjorn Borg, and he died! Nancy was a saint, and she had cancer! Melissa was a goof, and had a great loft! Ellen was punished for being a single career woman by hooking up with men who were way too ugly! Miles! Miles! Michael and Hope's dog was named Grendel! Seriously, who wouldn't buy this?
Sisters. Yes, it was an evening soap and yes, at times it was stupid. But come on, George Clooney was on for a while. And it starred Sela Ward and Swoozie Kurtz. This show was too fun to be locked away in a vault somewhere.
All My Children. No, I'm not crazy enought to desire each and every episode of the past 38 years released on DVD. All I want is a couple of discs that feature highlights from the 1970s, the show's golden age. I want to see some Tara. I want Donna when she's a prostitute, and the evil Billy Clyde Tuggle, who filled the void left by the evil pimp Tyrone. I want some young Erica Kane. This doesn't seem to me like too much to ask.
Life on Mars (UK series released for Region One, USA). Everyone says the original UK version is superior to the US remake. I like the remake fine, but have only seen maybe two of the original episodes on BBC America. It's out on DVD for Region 2, which of course won't work on my player. Please, people, reformat the thing so I can make unfair comparisions between the two just like everyone else.
Ed. Oh, it was somewhat dopey and sappy. A high-powered lawyer is cuckolded by his fiancee, ditches everything, and moves back to his picture-perfect hometown, where he buys a bowling alley for his law practice and pines for his high school love, who is now a high school teacher. But the performances were strong, and on cold winter nights, there's nothing like some sap to warm you up. This lasted a couple of seasons on NBC, and there's no reason in the world why it hasn't been released.
OK, Santa, get to work.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Does Lassie Twitter, Too?
Fan fiction is nothing new. Wander around the web and you can find fan-generated versions of your favorite books, movies, and TV shows, especially if you like science fiction or anything with a supernatural element. Some fans take their creative impulses beyond the written word. YouTube is filled with home-made versions of reality shows: The Real World Perkiomanville, Survivor New Paltz, etc. Marketers setting up social networking sites to promote fictional products is somewhat new, but not unexpected; finding a MySpace page for a movie comes as no surprise. What is new, and altogether interesting, is the use of social networking sites for the creation of fan fiction, and the best example of this is the use of Twitter by some dedicated Mad Men fans.
Yes, Don Draper Twitters. So does Betty, Roger Sterling, Peggy Olsen, Pete Campbell. Not only does every major character on the show Twitter, the minor ones do, too, including the Drapers four year-old son Bobby. They post updates, tweet one another, and will even respond to those who tweet them. The whole thing is done entirely in character, to the point where, when I first discovered the Mad Men Twitterverse, I thought, "What brilliant marketing. I had no idea AMC was so with it!"
AMC isn't with it. The entire project is the work of We Are Sterling Cooper, whose avowed purpose is the creation of fan fiction through social networking. AMC, in fact, at first sent out a cease and desist, and for a while all the Sterling Cooper Twitter accounts were suspended. Someone in the AMC marketing department finally figured out that this is ultimately a good thing, allowing the characters to Twitter away. What was Peggy doing last night? She was home alone reading, of course. Roger and Don went out for drinks. It's 1962, with Blackberries.
I honestly don't see the point of micro-blogging. If I posted occasional updates that described my actual activities, I'd end up producing a string of "writing a press release" or "drinking coffee and reading," a string of banalities. I'd want to make my updates more interesting than that, because the point of social networking is to interact with others. I'd need to make myself more fascinating than I am. I'd need to be performative rather than merely descriptive. I'd need to turn my "self" into a persona.
In that sense, all of the selves presented on Twitter are works of fiction. The line between "Elucidator" and "Don Draper" is a thin one indeed. The possibilities that We Are Sterling Cooper's project raises are, in the end, not about fan fiction, but about fiction itself. I could easily set up multiple accounts, each belonging to a different character of my invention, and create a narrative through the tweets these characters send each other. What I'm waiting for, in other words, is a novel conceived and composed this way, a novel that unfolds 140 words at a time, a novel that is performed as it is composed. It's coming, if it isn't already here.
Yes, Don Draper Twitters. So does Betty, Roger Sterling, Peggy Olsen, Pete Campbell. Not only does every major character on the show Twitter, the minor ones do, too, including the Drapers four year-old son Bobby. They post updates, tweet one another, and will even respond to those who tweet them. The whole thing is done entirely in character, to the point where, when I first discovered the Mad Men Twitterverse, I thought, "What brilliant marketing. I had no idea AMC was so with it!"
AMC isn't with it. The entire project is the work of We Are Sterling Cooper, whose avowed purpose is the creation of fan fiction through social networking. AMC, in fact, at first sent out a cease and desist, and for a while all the Sterling Cooper Twitter accounts were suspended. Someone in the AMC marketing department finally figured out that this is ultimately a good thing, allowing the characters to Twitter away. What was Peggy doing last night? She was home alone reading, of course. Roger and Don went out for drinks. It's 1962, with Blackberries.
I honestly don't see the point of micro-blogging. If I posted occasional updates that described my actual activities, I'd end up producing a string of "writing a press release" or "drinking coffee and reading," a string of banalities. I'd want to make my updates more interesting than that, because the point of social networking is to interact with others. I'd need to make myself more fascinating than I am. I'd need to be performative rather than merely descriptive. I'd need to turn my "self" into a persona.
In that sense, all of the selves presented on Twitter are works of fiction. The line between "Elucidator" and "Don Draper" is a thin one indeed. The possibilities that We Are Sterling Cooper's project raises are, in the end, not about fan fiction, but about fiction itself. I could easily set up multiple accounts, each belonging to a different character of my invention, and create a narrative through the tweets these characters send each other. What I'm waiting for, in other words, is a novel conceived and composed this way, a novel that unfolds 140 words at a time, a novel that is performed as it is composed. It's coming, if it isn't already here.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
What I Didn't Watch
I was one of the five Americans who didn't watch the American Idol finale last night. I've never seen one episode of the show. I don't have any good reason to not watch it; I just don't. Sitting in a restaurant last night surrounded by people glued to the television above the bar while I focused obliviously on some really good pizza made me think about all the television I haven't watched. I didn't have a TV for most of the 1980s, so there's a good lot of it.
I've never seen a single episode of St. Elsewhere or Hill Street Blues, for example. Never watched Cheers, Family Ties, any of that stuff. Name a show that was popular in the 80s and I haven't seen it. While I'm admitting things I may as well confess that I also didn't watch Seinfeld; I thought it was horribly misogynistic and participated in a one-woman boycott. I've never seen even one episode of Murder, She Wrote. I recall nearly my entire college gathering to watch The Thorn Birds together in various commons rooms (yes, I'm so old that no one brought their own TVs to college) but I must have read a book instead.
I never saw any of the nighttime soaps - no Dallas, no Dynasty, no Falcon Crest. In the 1990s, once I had a TV, I did partake of their spawn: I'm talking about you, Melrose Place. Still, I managed to miss an entire generation of television. I don't regret it, but it's odd. My cultural memory jumps from early SNL straight to Party of Five with pretty much noting in between.
What did I do without a TV? I read, wrote a dissertation, worked, listened to music. I met friends for drinks or for dinner. I sat enjoying really good pizza marveling as everyone around me guffawed at The Cosby Show. I lived. I left the restaurant last night just before Idol's winner was announced. I have no idea who won, but here I am, still alive.
I've never seen a single episode of St. Elsewhere or Hill Street Blues, for example. Never watched Cheers, Family Ties, any of that stuff. Name a show that was popular in the 80s and I haven't seen it. While I'm admitting things I may as well confess that I also didn't watch Seinfeld; I thought it was horribly misogynistic and participated in a one-woman boycott. I've never seen even one episode of Murder, She Wrote. I recall nearly my entire college gathering to watch The Thorn Birds together in various commons rooms (yes, I'm so old that no one brought their own TVs to college) but I must have read a book instead.
I never saw any of the nighttime soaps - no Dallas, no Dynasty, no Falcon Crest. In the 1990s, once I had a TV, I did partake of their spawn: I'm talking about you, Melrose Place. Still, I managed to miss an entire generation of television. I don't regret it, but it's odd. My cultural memory jumps from early SNL straight to Party of Five with pretty much noting in between.
What did I do without a TV? I read, wrote a dissertation, worked, listened to music. I met friends for drinks or for dinner. I sat enjoying really good pizza marveling as everyone around me guffawed at The Cosby Show. I lived. I left the restaurant last night just before Idol's winner was announced. I have no idea who won, but here I am, still alive.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Making It After All
Thanks to Hulu, I watched the pilot episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show the other night. I'm not sure I'd ever seen the pilot before; I was six when it originally aired in September, 1970. I might have caught it years ago on Nick at Nite, although I have no memory of it. All in all, it's an interesting thing to watch.
It seems hard to imagine, but the show was pretty radical at the time. Mary Richards was the first central comedic character who was single by choice. She wasn't divorced, she wasn't widowed, she was just single. Apparently the original concept for the show called for her to be divorced, but MTM was afraid audiences would balk because she was so identified with the popular Laura Petrie, and she didn't want people to think Laura had divorced Rob. She only took the role once the network allowed the character to be a single working woman, and in that sense the most radical thing about the show occurred essentially by accident.
I had forgotten all about this fact, but Mary Richards moves to Minneapolis after being dumped by her boyfriend of four years, who she had helped put through medical school. The show opens with her arriving at an apartment being held for her by her old friend Phyllis, who would appear to own the building. Mary immediately meets her new neighbor Rhoda, who is also interested in the apartment but who relinquishes it to Mary. Rhoda is wearing an extremely unflattering horizontal-striped pants suit, and the dynamic that would exist until Rhoda moves back to New York is set up from the get-go: Mary is pretty and gets what she wants, Rhoda is dumpy and suffers. Watch the pilot and note that Valerie Harper is not fat, not even overweight. She's just dressed to look that way, much the way that Vivian Vance was always made to look older and uglier than Lucille Ball.
Mary goes out and gets a job and we meet Murray and Ted and she has the famous discussion with Lou Grant where he tells her he hates spunk. It's at the end of the episode where we find the real break from convention. Mary is unpacking in her new apartment (and, for perhaps the only time, we see that Mary Richards does in fact own a bed - it's right there in the middle of the living room). Her boyfriend shows up, having come to Minneapolis to apologize and take her back home to marry him. She refuses, actively choosing to be single, actively choosing to create a different kind of family, made up of colleagues and other single women.
In September, 1970, Mary Richards is 30 years old. For seven years, until her late 30s, she will remain single. In fact, the series will end not with her marrying and leaving WJM, but with new management breaking up the workplace family by firing everyone except the incompetent Ted. Mary will date, even have sex, but she will not entertain the notion of marriage or children. She will never regret the decision that she makes in the pilot. The show's producers weren't certain of the outcome of Mary's decision, that's for sure. Take a look at the original opening credits, which feature the lesser-known first verse of "Love Is All Around":
It's a big scary world, and she's all alone! How will she make it on her own? As it turns out, quite well indeed. The show was almost canceled after the first season but in the end was renewed, the theme song was changed to get rid of the ambivalence, and ultimately the television landscape was altered forever. Without Mary Richards we'd have no Murphy Brown, no Carrie Bradshaw, no Rhoda and no Rosanne. Without Mary Richards we wouldn't have The Office or any other situation comedy where the workplace and not the family is the focus. Without Mary Richards our hats would still be on our heads. Thanks, Mary Richards, for making it after all, even if you had to use your wiles and turn the world on in order to do it.
It seems hard to imagine, but the show was pretty radical at the time. Mary Richards was the first central comedic character who was single by choice. She wasn't divorced, she wasn't widowed, she was just single. Apparently the original concept for the show called for her to be divorced, but MTM was afraid audiences would balk because she was so identified with the popular Laura Petrie, and she didn't want people to think Laura had divorced Rob. She only took the role once the network allowed the character to be a single working woman, and in that sense the most radical thing about the show occurred essentially by accident.
I had forgotten all about this fact, but Mary Richards moves to Minneapolis after being dumped by her boyfriend of four years, who she had helped put through medical school. The show opens with her arriving at an apartment being held for her by her old friend Phyllis, who would appear to own the building. Mary immediately meets her new neighbor Rhoda, who is also interested in the apartment but who relinquishes it to Mary. Rhoda is wearing an extremely unflattering horizontal-striped pants suit, and the dynamic that would exist until Rhoda moves back to New York is set up from the get-go: Mary is pretty and gets what she wants, Rhoda is dumpy and suffers. Watch the pilot and note that Valerie Harper is not fat, not even overweight. She's just dressed to look that way, much the way that Vivian Vance was always made to look older and uglier than Lucille Ball.
Mary goes out and gets a job and we meet Murray and Ted and she has the famous discussion with Lou Grant where he tells her he hates spunk. It's at the end of the episode where we find the real break from convention. Mary is unpacking in her new apartment (and, for perhaps the only time, we see that Mary Richards does in fact own a bed - it's right there in the middle of the living room). Her boyfriend shows up, having come to Minneapolis to apologize and take her back home to marry him. She refuses, actively choosing to be single, actively choosing to create a different kind of family, made up of colleagues and other single women.
In September, 1970, Mary Richards is 30 years old. For seven years, until her late 30s, she will remain single. In fact, the series will end not with her marrying and leaving WJM, but with new management breaking up the workplace family by firing everyone except the incompetent Ted. Mary will date, even have sex, but she will not entertain the notion of marriage or children. She will never regret the decision that she makes in the pilot. The show's producers weren't certain of the outcome of Mary's decision, that's for sure. Take a look at the original opening credits, which feature the lesser-known first verse of "Love Is All Around":
It's a big scary world, and she's all alone! How will she make it on her own? As it turns out, quite well indeed. The show was almost canceled after the first season but in the end was renewed, the theme song was changed to get rid of the ambivalence, and ultimately the television landscape was altered forever. Without Mary Richards we'd have no Murphy Brown, no Carrie Bradshaw, no Rhoda and no Rosanne. Without Mary Richards we wouldn't have The Office or any other situation comedy where the workplace and not the family is the focus. Without Mary Richards our hats would still be on our heads. Thanks, Mary Richards, for making it after all, even if you had to use your wiles and turn the world on in order to do it.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Cashstick Junglia
It's official: every writer and producer ever associated with Sex and the City gets his or her chance to write/produce a knock-off. I used to watch SATC; if I ask, will Jeff Zucker give me an hour of prime time? I'm not going to comment on Cashmere Mafia or Lipstick Jungle because I haven't watched them (not that this would normally stop me). It's the phenomena that interest me.
Can a woman have it all? That seems to be the premise of these shows. Can a woman be attractive, hold down a high-powered job, wear ridiculously "fashionable" clothes, and still get the guy? From the network's point of view, the answer to this rhetorical question would have to be "no" in order for narrative plotting to continue. SATC's finale, after all, found our heroines happily coupled-up. However, I don't know of a single woman who watched SATC because she was interested in finding out if women could have it all. Everyone I know who liked the show liked it because it was funny, because it depicted women in their true raunchiness, because it depicted characters who were realistically flawed and realistically human.
The knock-offs reduce SATC to a premise and a wardrobe. Women know they can "have it all." Women have been marrying and reproducing while working for two generations now. Network executives, nearly all male, are the only ones interested in pursuing this uninteresting question. We're left with a couple of silly television shows where a group of friends run around in, essentially, costume, grab a few drinks together, and then venture forth into romantic disaster. We'll see if the writer's strike causes an audience to care by necessity.
We'll get more of this in March, when Bravo premiers the reality version of this concept in The Real Housewives of New York City. In the meantime, I'm going to sign off and go back to my incredibly high-powered job. I'm wearing Jimmy Choos and a tu-tu, hoping to meet a special someone later, over dirty martinis.
Can a woman have it all? That seems to be the premise of these shows. Can a woman be attractive, hold down a high-powered job, wear ridiculously "fashionable" clothes, and still get the guy? From the network's point of view, the answer to this rhetorical question would have to be "no" in order for narrative plotting to continue. SATC's finale, after all, found our heroines happily coupled-up. However, I don't know of a single woman who watched SATC because she was interested in finding out if women could have it all. Everyone I know who liked the show liked it because it was funny, because it depicted women in their true raunchiness, because it depicted characters who were realistically flawed and realistically human.
The knock-offs reduce SATC to a premise and a wardrobe. Women know they can "have it all." Women have been marrying and reproducing while working for two generations now. Network executives, nearly all male, are the only ones interested in pursuing this uninteresting question. We're left with a couple of silly television shows where a group of friends run around in, essentially, costume, grab a few drinks together, and then venture forth into romantic disaster. We'll see if the writer's strike causes an audience to care by necessity.
We'll get more of this in March, when Bravo premiers the reality version of this concept in The Real Housewives of New York City. In the meantime, I'm going to sign off and go back to my incredibly high-powered job. I'm wearing Jimmy Choos and a tu-tu, hoping to meet a special someone later, over dirty martinis.
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