Monk

In my previous post, I discussed Monk, but decided not to save the details for this. It may have been clear that I'm not too fond of this show.

It isn't bad. It's worth a watch. But I had to force myself to finish it due to the problems I discussed, that it never changed. Maybe it just went on too long. But I think, the problem with the show was Monk.

There are two things that make me dislike media:

I have to pause it because it's boring
I have to pause it because I can't stand to watch anymore

Cringe humour can have its benefits, mind you. It is a very valid form of humour. But I think one can only put up with it for so long-or at least, I can. There's only so many times one can pull a: 'oh dear god he's saying that' before it becomes a "oh dear god don't say that... he said it." Like most things, I think humour has to be somewhat surprising. After 9 seasons of Monk, it wasn't surprising.

I don't mean that Monk hasn't earned his place in pop-culture. I just mean that show should have ended like, 4 seasons before it did.

Evolution of TV Shows

This isn't going to be a discussion of a single series, but a pattern in series. Series can, as hard as they try, just tread water, like "Monk," but most of the time, they choose to make a major change.

Romantic Changes

First, there's the change where they resolve "Will they or won't they?" Look at "Raising Hope," where eventually, the girl Jimmy has been chasing after the whole first season eventually starts dating him, or "Bones," where Bones and Booth get together and have a kid, or even Psych, where Juliet gets together with Shawn. They refuse to drag out the romantic plot, allowing it to evolve.

Switching out Cast

This is something that usually becomes necessary, but is rarely voluntary. When Monk gets a new personal assistant, it changed the show, but not fundamentally. When Monk got a new psychiatrist, it changed the show, but not fundamentally. This was because neither change was willing.

You look at shows like Being Human (UK), which cycles out nearly its entire cast, by series 4, and the changes in the show make it clear that it was prepared for, if not voluntary.

Plot-based Changes

The Riches and Fringe tend(ed) to evolve as an entire show, not just with character-relationships. The Riches sets up several issues in the pilot which could have lasted throughout the series: The stealing of the family's money, the arranged marriage De De is being forced into, and their pretending to be The Riches. Two out of the three of these issues get resolved even before the first season is up, paving the way for a new antagonist that would have never been expected, and an evolution of an old antagonist.

Fringe, on the other hand, seems to build season-long arcs, and sticks with them.
Season 1 was very procedural, slowly revealing a grand plan, which is followed up on in season 2, though Season 2 becomes inherently less episodic.
Season 3 throws the grand plan out entirely, dealing instead with the two alternate realities, and the two versions of the main character.
Season 4 deletes, then brings back, a major character of the cast.

Each season is fundamentally different from the previous one.

Reboots (and rotating cast)

Sometimes a show will reboot itself. This is usually by design, and rarely out of need. Examples of this are: Every reality tv show ever, Skins, and American Horror Story. Reality TV shows have to; it's part of their design. Each season gets a brand new cast, with new challenges (so they can't cheat off of the old ones in game-based ones).

Skins and American Horror Story, on the other hand, make it an artistic choice. For Skins, it seems to be a character reason. For American Horror Story, it seems to be a tonal reason. See, in Skins, each episode is a character study. There tends to be a few episodes about everybody (first and last of the season, typically), to make the connections. At the end of two seasons, they create a new cast.

American Horror Story, on the other hand, seems to understand horror. They understand that it is unknown, but prevalent. Because of this, each season is a total reboot of the series. The first season starts in a haunted house, the second in an asylum. Giving each setting only a season allows it to prevent us from becoming too familiar with the horrors, and prevents it from repeating itself. 

This is very rare, as people usually identify with characters. It's hard for people to get behind the idea of a show, rather than the characters of a show. 

Shows in Stasis

It's strange that when I looked back through the shows I had watched, there was only one show that leapt out at me as one that never changed. I've mentioned it a few times now, and that's "Monk." Why do I say that? It changed, didn't it?

Now, metaphorical audience member, answer me this.

Did Monk ever (permanently)

Change his job?

Change his house?

Change as a character?

Sure, some of the people around him changed, but Monk himself never changed. The show was afraid to take any risk. When he got a new house, he immediately gives it up. When he goes on meds, he immediately gives that up. Not because they don't work, but because they interfere with his job. When he gets the job that he was going after for 9 years, he isn't happy and quits. The show loved the status quo. 

Some of these are understandable, at least, from a writing standpoint. Monk on meds? He wouldn't be himself! But others seemed to be based on a fear of change. They didn't want to write Monk the police detective. They wanted to write Monk the P.I. That's fine--but it can't last forever.

Conclusion

I'm all for shows that evolve. When it goes wrong, it can go horribly wrong, but if the show never takes the chance, the audience may very well get frustrated, and feel like their beloved characters are treading in water. If the male and female lead have had unresolved sexual tension for 14 years, will we still care? Maybe the resolution just wasn't worth sticking around for. 

Wonder Woman 2011

It's not good. It's not bad. It's not even interesting. Wonder Woman (the un-aired 2011 pilot) is full of half-baked ideas. If it just picked one of the half-baked ideas, it could have made it. Instead, it just tries to throw all ideas it was even remotely interested in, and hope one sticks.

I was wondering if I really could criticize a pilot for trying to set up too much for a series, but I thought about it a bit more, thinking about pilots of other shows. A pilot has to do so much already. it has to introduce a bunch of characters, the main premise, and the setting (which is often a character in and of itself.)

I don't think this pilot understood that concept. Each character is glossed over, there is no clear main premise, and the setting is poked at, but mostly, again, ignored.

Wonder Woman opens like a crime procedural's victim of the day, which, incidentally  is the most characterized person in the pilot. He's a black teenage boy, who presumably receives a scholarship to go to college, before a "near exploding heart" causes eye-bleeding. (I don't get it either.)

Then, ideas are introduced and dropped in quick succession:

* Wonder Woman sells action dolls and other products to fund her crime-fighting.
* Wonder Woman doesn't play well with police.
* Wonder Woman breaks up with her boyfriend before becoming Wonder Woman because he might get hurt.
* Wonder Woman inexplicably has an alternate identity.
* Wonder Woman has a cat.
* Wonder Woman is a Woman, hear her roar.
* Her ex-boyfriend is back, but he's married!

The only idea that looks like it'll get followed up on is the idea that she doesn't play well with police, but the ex-boyfriend shows up, saves the day, and it looks like this too will be quickly ignored.

Really, the most interesting idea here, and the most topical idea (even during the time it was made) is the idea of the relationship between the super-hero and the police. If the pilot had ended with Wonder Woman potentially facing legal ramifications for what she did, as parts of the episode seemed to be building up to, (Like a pundit exclaiming she wasn't exempt from search and seizure laws) then it might have been going somewhere.

However, it seems mostly confused.

I don't know what it is about a female super-hero that seems to get writers confused. You give the hero tits and suddenly you want to shoehorn in rom-com misunderstandings like her ex-boyfriend having been in town for a while but not talking to her and being married, alternating with feminist outbursts (like her saying that the 'tits' on the action figures are too big to properly represent her.)

I would have been fine with them treating her as an essentially male super-hero for the pilot episode. You'd have had plenty of time to show us she was a woman.

The New Normal

When I delved into my past looking for tv shows I specifically didn't like, I didn't expect so much vitriol. I was supposed to kill this with hours of meditation, art therapy, and religion. So with this, I'm moving back up the scale of Cooper's Likability. Today's show is a show that I surprisingly like. Will I finish season 1? I doubt it. Have I been okay with every episode seen so far? Yeah. I really have.

Yes, there are three pregnant people in this picture.

People.

The biggest jump this show took was the two gay leads. I didn't think it was going to make it. In fact, I was pretty sure this show was going to take a flying leap and land face-first like I think Glee did (in my happy place.) And while one of them is the absolute stereotypical homosexual (that Nowhere was conspicuously absent of), the other is a normal dude who happens to be gay. 

It touches on a lot of issues that normally, would make this show somewhat un-watchable for me. Young sexuality (Shania, the little girl, falls in love with a boy, is kidnapped by her grandmother, along with the boy, and taken to Planned Parenthood) teen pregnancy (two out of the three female leads were teens when they had their kids, the other is a kid), political divisions (the mother is a staunch republican who actually manages to stay just barely likable by being more than just the stereotype I'd expected her to be), and of course, the center of attention is Goldie's surrogate pregnancy for the two gay men. 

I expected this show to run right up to the screen, climb on top of THE BIGGEST soapbox, and start screaming its lungs out. It does have some of that, sure. There are moments you don't expect from this sort of attitude, however. It isn't afraid to swing both ways. That's this show's greatest value. The aforementioned kidnapping ends with the boy's mother being very glad it happened, because she didn't know when she should talk to her son about sex, and it prompted that conversation. 

It isn't exactly funny (rarely does it get laughs from me, in fact), and it isn't exactly great. It may have very well already earned its place in history though, and that's the best reason to give it a go.

Breaking In

Want to see a show that beat records? I do!

Yaaay!

Booo.

Continuing my history with doomed shows (which will be better explored during Joss Whedon day. This is postponed until I've finished watching Angel), there's this show. It's obvious that I'd like it. I liked Leverage (to be reviewed when I get up-to-date on THAT show), I enjoy wacky workplace comedies (which is odd as I've never been in a 'traditional' workplace) and I could relate to them each in one way.

So what was I saying about breaking records? It's one of the few shows out there to be cancelled twice. (No points for guessing which network this show is on. -1 points if you just looked up to the second picture to see.) 

I could cry executive meddling, but that'd be unfair of me. So I'll scream it. I'll pound the ground, say 'Firefly' once or twice, and then shake my fist at the air screaming: "Foooooooxxxx!!!!11"

The reality is, we're all in this to make money. I won't blame Fox for trying to make money. Fox invested in this show, then felt it wasn't making good enough returns, and cancelled it. Then Fox saw post-cancellation that this show really did have all the elements of a successful show, picked it up again, and butchered it. 

There are a few things I think TV networks forget about with shows. 

1: Not every show is an American Idol. (Don't hold your breath on a review for this one. If I start making money at this, sure. I'll throw you guys a bone. But until then, never watched an episode of it.) You can't expect everyone to watch every show on the air. 

2: Their current system of judging shows is outdated. The problem is, it's hard for them to reclassify it. After all, they already have a system in place that works some of the time. Why change it? Why take into account the quality of fan-bases, or alternate revenue streams? Does it truly matter if Dollhouse's fanbase was more likely to buy DVDs of the show than American Idol's? Does it truly matter if a show doesn't get the best ratings first-run, if it excels in re-runs, and alternate late-streaming sources such as: Amazon Instant, Hulu, Netflix, and Itunes? I think it should. But it's hard to quantify something like that, and I can understand that.

3: Scale down expectations. Examine the competition, examine the timeslot. Shows shown on Fridays on Fox are more likely to get cancelled, and shows that follow American Idol are more likely to do well? Why? Well, it's suspected that people in THE target demographic don't stay home Friday evenings. Alternatively, shows that follow a more popular show give it a chance to pick up some of the first show's audience. (This is sometimes accounted for by noting what percent of audience members follow a show to a new timeslot.) 

Likewise, if you have a show that's meant to compete with American Idol, don't get too upset if it doesn't seem to compete with your other shows. 

With that tangent over, onto Breaking In. 

Season 1 of Breaking In has a very solid premise, with very solid characters. A kid has hacked himself into his college's mainframe and convinced it that he's there on full scholarship. He's earning degree after degree, for free. He makes money doing simple hacks. It is noted by Breaking In's crew, and he is recruited. (It's more noted that they can recruit him, or turn him over to the authorities.)

This kid, Cameron, quickly grows to like his team. His vaguely threatening, mysterious boss Oz, his rivalrous friendship with Archetypal Cash (at first), the 'semi-jock' Josh, his crush Melanie, and her goofy boyfriend Dutch. 

Each character had bits and pieces about them that made them unique. The show was genuinely funny, though it has a frat-boy sense of humor to it that I usually don't appreciate. The premise was one I always enjoy, even though I admittedly have seen it before.

Season two on the other hand, introduced the most obnoxious character I have ever seen. (I feel lucky that she is this, by the way.) Fox tried to use her as the incentive to jump back on the Breaking In bandwagon, but she didn't have enough star-power to bring new interested parties, nor was she meshing well enough with the story to hold onto the fan-base. I refuse to even give her a name. I'll call her OB. You figure out what that stands for. (Hint: B is what you think it stands for.)

TV doesn't really get me angry. It doesn't. Even shows that people dog-pile on, eager to rip a piece out of its already rotting carcass I don't hate. (See Work It!'s review for proof.) But the second season of this show made me angry. I had genuinely enjoyed the first season of this show greatly. I feel like they brought the show back just to stomp on it in front of me.

No, I feel like I ripped out my heart as a sacrifice to get this show back, and they gave me a new heart, which periodically makes terrible jokes, counts how many steps I take, (and how many hours I sit with an increasingly mocking tone). No, I feel like they did that, and severed my brain in just the right way that I lose control of my right hand (my writing hand, not that it makes a difference as my writing sucks either way), then implanted it with a device to randomly punch myself in the breast. 

NoIdon'tknowwwhatI'mgoingonaboutgoaway 

Emily Owens, MD

It's pretty rare that I have to pause a show, just so I can handle the awkward it just spat at my face (yes I'm calling this show a camel. Never say I wasn't creative with my insults.) This show is happy to do this to me ALL THE TIME. Between the dead-fish of a metaphor it has been smacking my face with since the trailer, and the awkward-machine-that-rivals-Deb of a main character, this show is uncomfortable to watch. And not in the 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger' way.

Emily Owens, in the first few episodes, manages to pick up a mentor that's at least a decade younger than her, confess her love to her best friend (who doesn't reciprocate) befriend the in-the-closet-gay-daughter-of-the-chief-of-medicine, and get mistaken for gay. Oh, and she's also picked up a perceived catty rival who doesn't seem all that interested in being her catty rival.

This show seems to be more about a woman who desperately needs therapy, rather than a medical intern. She was soo scarred by High School she can't leave it behind, even though everyone else seems pretty happy to.

This is definitely one to skip. The only scene I found any worth in, I wasn't able to find on youtube, but will transcribe for you (from memory/google rather than watching that show again--you can't make me!) For reference, Tyra (whose name I didn't know until I googled the quote. Having seen my last review, it made me lol a bit. Another point for Emily Owens, MD.) is the in-the-closet gay, Emily is the main character.

Emily: When did you know? 
Tyra: That I was black? It’s so interesting. People always ask the gay girl when she knew she liked girls. No one ever asks the straight girl when she knew she liked boys.
Emily: I was nine. I asked this boy if he wanted to be my boyfriend and he spat at me.
Tyra: There’s no a-ha moment. You know from an early age that you’re different. And you start having these intense friendships with other girls and you think it’s normal. All girls feel passionately about their best friends, right? Until your best friend starts dating a boy. And you feel like your heart’s going to explode.

There you go. You have now seen the only thing of worth this show offered. You know there has to be someone who was gay on the writing team for this episode, because it feels very raw. It feels real. If Tyra wasn't surrounded by Awkward! and bad writing, I'd watch the show for her. But unfortunately, she is.

America's Next Top Model

I am very glad I found this image without much work... because I expected to have trouble finding a good image to truly represent the shallowness, pettiness, Tyra-Banks-centric, yet strangely fascinating show. An image with Tyra Banks in the middle, so heavily photoshopped I barely recognized her (except for the fact that she's in the middle, and she's ALWAYS in the middle) and the fact that she, and all of the other kids, looked like barbies.

This show has become so popular, it has been replicated in 77 different forms. (Only one of which I've watched fully, Canada's Next Top Model.)

I will give this show props--it has actually launched careers. Just rarely the ones that 'win' the show. It seems to actually be better for your future career to be second or third in the show. The photos, at least up until the last two seasons, were interesting artistically, and even when I just watched the show in the background, (usually the best way to watch it to dull the shame) I always paused to see the photos that were shown in judging.

The first season was rocky, but it had something to it, and it showed. I'll admit at one time, I wanted to be on the show. It wasn't really that I wanted to be a model, but I wanted to be part of the photos. Then I found that I was more interested in being behind the camera. I was more interested in the art than the work. That's one of my major disappointments with the later seasons--one of the people that left (Tyra has replaced the entire judging table besides her) took the good ideas with them.

Everything felt fake from the start. The bible-thumping Christian and the Militant Atheist were obviously put together not because of their talent, but because they were going to clash. Every girl cheers when Tyra enters. There's always the "weird" girl, the tough chick, the one you hate, the 'plus-sized,' and the one with the sad story. They read "Tyra Mail" out loud. Tyra's face is all over their homes. Each house is usually short a bed for the first week, to enforce fighting with the contestants over bedding. Each time, someone gets upset over the makeovers.

Most of these girls have put their life on hold for this show. You hear it again and again: "I don't know what I'll go back to if I don't win."

You usually have a contestant that you just want to hug, and that's the one you hope will win. But at the end of the day, they're mostly forgettable. The show insisted they weren't, by bringing back the "All-Stars" but I barely remembered most of them.

The show does seem to start becoming self-aware with the editing, but it doesn't make up for it.

Verdict? Guilty pleasure at best.