I’m as easily swayed by quality sci-fi as the next socially awkward TV enthusiast, so when fans of Jericho rallied so vigorously after the show’s cancellation last year, I assumed it was probably something I could get behind myself. CBS miraculously resurrected the show, and I decided I would catch up before it returned. I did not. I really meant to, but my poor relationship with the network and my lingering late-90s reservations about Skeet Ulrich kept me from ever making the jump. Thank. Flipping. God.
If the first three episodes of Jericho’s new season are any indication of standards during the show’s initial run, I wasn’t missing much. And neither were you. I’m guessing I can lump us together, because not many people watched Jericho last year. That’s why they canceled it. Now nothing irks me more than people hating on my favorite shows, but given the fact that I was forced to endure 126 minutes of this one, I think I’ve earned the right to vent.
My beef with Jericho isn’t so much that it sucks – plenty of TV sucks. Plenty of the most watched shows in America suck. It’s just the way of the world. What cheeses me off is that each year, one or two legitimately outstanding shows is tossed aside because of flagging ratings. We mourn them, we look back on them fondly and we bemoan whatever crap fills their timeslot the following fall. So when a show gets a reprieve like Jericho, it should be amazing. It should be amazing just to honor all of its fallen brothers and sisters who didn’t get the same chance. Throughout the long and notorious history of “brilliant but canceled” TV, no other show has gotten that chance – at last not in this manner – so forgive me for being a little sour that the honor was bestowed on this steaming pile of poorly scripted, awkwardly paced, laughably acted patriotic propaganda masquerading as allegory.