Archive for the ‘ABC’ Category

Marcia, Marcia, Marcia

Monday, April 30th, 2007

marcia, marcia, marcia

Conceiving a child while starring in your own a primetime series has got to be a pain in the ass. And when above chest shots and strategically placed pillows no longer cut it, and babies start popping out, you’re left with just one painful option – an annoying and poorly explained absence.

Marcia Cross has always had an incredible knack for adding depth and charm to hackneyed soap operas. Her turn as Kimberly on Melrose Place was well-acted, and the storyline of her going bat-shit crazy was as interesting and entertaining as the show ever got. Now on Desperate Housewives, the extremely buzzworthy, come disappointing, come satisfactory and occasionally impressive ABC show, Marcia is once again the most deserving of the spotlight. But after false rumors of homosexuality were immediately followed by the announcement of an engagement (to a dude), a marriage and then a pregnancy with twins, Marcia has spent much of the third season in the shadows before going completely MIA for the past 4 episodes.

This is particularly rough because Marcia’s absence requires that they fill her screen time with the two worst people on the show: Eva Longoria and Nicolette Sheridan. Aside from the occasional storyline involving the housewives’ angsty teens, Eva and Nicolette provide us with the least interesting moments in a show that is frequently uninteresting. When you find yourself holding your breath until the next scene with Teri Hatcher, you know you’ve got problems.

All is not lost though. Marcia Cross and that creep from Blue Velvet return from their several month honeymoon for the May 20th season finale of Desperate Housewives. And with no real mystery left in this season’s arc, one can only imagine the kind of last minute shenanigans they have planned.

Let’s Make Manditory Tube-Tying a “Thing”

Tuesday, April 3rd, 2007

If watching vapid young women fall over themselves for the tiniest bit of media exposure is your raison d’être, then Monday was bittersweet for you. While we got a brand new batch of ho-bags clawing for the chance to date the newest Bachelor (an officer and a gentleman!), we had to say goodbye to LC & Co as another season of The Hills came to a close. And though I may have been otherwise occupied with Bravo’s daylong marathon of the final season of Six Feet Under (tear!), I did take a few moments to check in on the ladies to break up the aching melancholy of a day with the Fishers.

The Bachelor started with new leading man Andy strolling on his navy base, professing that he “has so much to give” as a muzak recording of “Up Where We Belong” played in the background. He then pulled up to the mansion in the De Lorean and awkwardly received his 25 potential lovers. Setting the tone for the season, Andy gave his “first impression rose” to the girl with the stones to ask for it. There you go, ladies. If you want him, all you have to do is take him. He may be a soldier, a doctor, a humanitarian and a 100-time Iron Man… but Andy is not a decision maker. If ever there were an excuse for the women to be forward and obnoxious, here it is.

One girl who would not be good for Andy is The Hills’ Lauren Conrad, because she doesn’t even speak, let alone make decisions. Her status as the show’s star is curious considering all she really does is stand by with wide eyes and pursed lips as her retarded friends turn their lives into even bigger train wrecks. Even though it’s her own damn fault for surrounding herself with such a circus, this girl can’t get a break and she still keeps a decent attitude. It’s slightly impressive. Even when her best friend Heidi, a future battered wife of America, leaves Lauren to move in with her slimy boyfriend of less than a year, she tries to keep it classy. It’s disturbing to see Laguna refugees mature, and maybe it’s a sign of the times, but who really cares?

Is it time for Heroes to come back yet?

“Walking [er, Watching] is the Hardest Thing”

Monday, March 19th, 2007

offensive!If you haven’t already heard, “charity campaigner” is the newest and most awesome euphemism for “whorish amputee.” And we can thank the hosts of Dancing With the Stars for that little gem. In what must be the most obvious and reprehensible ratings ploy in history, Monday’s premiere of DWtS brought with it the highly anticipated dancing debut of Heather Mills (McCartney).

Dancing With the Stars has become one of TV’s most inexplicable phenomena, and while I know very few who’ll admit to having ever watched it, I doubt I’ll still be able to say that on Tuesday. The perverse and glorious prospect of seeing Mills’ prosthetic leg fly off mid-Salsa is too appealing for even the most prim and proper. This is a sight that could bring in even the most obstinately anti-reality tubers among us. And it’s not news to the producers.

The show started with former 90210er Ian Ziering, an easy choice for this season’s champion seeing as how he’s paired with the winner of the previous two seasons and looks like he just woke up from being cryogenically frozen since 1994. What followed was a two-hour parade of the usual overweight, unrecognizable morons they try to pass off as a celebrities, all the while teasing us with flashes of Mills’ waxy leg. Just get on with it!

And a few minutes shy of ten, they finally did. After an impressively lengthy introduction that lacked any mention of Paul (what else is there to talk about?) and a quick highlight reel of Heather’s early trips and spills, the dancing began. She seemed to be carried most of the time by her poor sucker of a partner and looked so stiff and uncomfortable, you have to wonder if she’s regretting this mid-divorce publicity stunt she’s trying to pass off as a vehicle to inspire limbless children. The judges were courteous and she scored right down the middle, but no matter how many weeks America casts a vote for her leg to dislodge and take out a Leeza Gibbons, I don’t think we’ll ever get it. Heather isn’t taking any risks on this show. Smart on her part, because she just isn’t capable of busting the tight moves required of the most Star-tastic dancer, and she certainly shouldn’t be donning the obligatory bikini bottom and sequined pasties. Sorry amputee kids, looks like you can’t do everything.

What’s the Frequency, Meredith?

Monday, January 29th, 2007

GIANT MONSTER

Watching Grey’s Anatomy isn’t so much a joy as it is a necessity. More than any other show in the last two years, GA’s on and offstage drama has dominated water cooler conversation – so while I cool my proverbial heels in an office with such a cooler, I feel compelled to stay informed.

But not if every episode is going to end like the last three, with a five-minute montage of distressed yet thoughtful faces that loops almost endlessly as some indie girl-pop jam staves off the credits. If they run out of material after 37 minutes, I’m more than obliged to watch extra commercials, but not this.

I might even appreciate these scenes if they’d completely surrender to the sentimentality they’re so desperately emulating and only play “Everybody Hurts.” As it is, they’re really only lacking REM’s thoughtful captions. And it’s not hard to imagine what everyone is thinking. This is, after all, the only time when Ellen Pompeo isn’t speaking through her nose at a million miles per minute.

Perhaps we should just be thankful.