The end of the network television season landed with an unusually heavy thump this year. This year’s reruns feel like that piece of beef Gloria lobbed at Tony Soprano’s head in the “Amour Fou” episode of The Sopranos. Television shows that were once fresh and new are now reruns, carcasses that just don’t look that appetizing the second time around.
Actually, I can’t complain about reruns too much. Since I can’t tape everything, and I’m (still) not on the A-list for getting network previews — except for PBS, God love them, they treat me right — I miss a few things now and then.
Some of those shows I “should” be watching, I ignore because of my personal reluctance to follow the pack. Yes, yes — I know NYPD Blue and Law & Order are supposed to be fine television. But for the life of me, I have never been a big fan of cop shows. So sue me. I lost interest after Hill Street Blues — from which, it seems, these two shows in particular descend. Neither of them extends the form, but just copies it, adding a bare behind here, a girl D.A. there. Nothing extraordinary.
Well, I’ll get letters on that, I’m sure.
Other “must-see” TV includes Once and Again, Ally McBeal, and Ed. This summer, I intend to go back and discover what the big damn deal is about those shows. TV Guide recently trumpeted O&A as “the best show on TV you’re not watching.” They said the same thing about 7th Heaven a while back, so their judgment is already tarnished in my book. The thing that is supposed to be so marvelous on O&A is the portrayal of midlifers in love. But I’ve found that when I periodically tuned in last season, I was less interested in the Sela Ward and Billy Campbell drama than I was with that passel of actors who play their kids. By far, that group provides the most nuanced performances I’ve seen on TV.
As for Ally McBeal and Ed — well, if they’re on and I’m in front of the tube, and my eyes are open, and there isn’t something more fun to do, like say, washing dishes or cleaning the bathtub, I’ll watch.
Which brings me to the real reason to watch television this summer: the return of Sex and the City and the series premiere of Six Feet Under, both on HBO. What an interesting evening of programming, featuring the two most taboo subjects in the U.S.: sex and death.
The back-to-back episodes of Sex and the City were lively, splashy, and just as naughty as they were last season. Gosh, I missed those gals! To those readers who’ve written to complain that they vehemently disagree with me and call the show trashy, well, let’s just say we simply part ways on this issue.
If the two episodes are any indication, it looks like a more gal-pal-centered season, with an emphasis on one-for-all and all-for-one. That doesn’t mean men are out of the picture. That randy Samantha (Kim Cattrall) thinking she can get under the robes of a priest by donating a few cans of peas to the church’s food pantry (purring, “Le Sueur. They’re the best”) made me laugh out loud.
Those who were part of the “Bring Back Big” (Chris Noth) contingent had their appetite sated a bit, when the mysterious one showed up on the doorstep of Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) in a stretch limo, bearing a bouquet of red balloons and champagne on the evening of her otherwise disastrous birthday. What was great was that nothing and everything happened in the back seat of that limo. The ex-lovers toasted and celebrated each other, but a promise of more — of something “official” — was not there. For those who like their love stories wrapped up with a ribbon and happily ever after, this was probably a huge disappointment. There’s certainly room to maneuver — maybe Big will return and sweep Carrie off her feet and lead her down the aisle, but is domestic bliss really part of what defines that couple? I hope that’s not what the creators have in mind.
What the creators have in store for viewers of Six Feet Under, on the other hand, is at once baffling and obvious. Created by American Beauty scribe Alan Ball, the show is promoted as an unflinching approach to the final taboo subject: death.
Actually, death is a distant theme in this show, at least in the sense it’s been promoted. Six Feet Under is really your standard family drama, complete with a dead dad who appears once in a while (like the dead mom in Providence). The underlying theme of the show isn’t death in the physical sense, but the death of that candy-apple view of the family. This is territory Ball has covered before.
Death, in this case, is used as the event that spurs all family members to feel most discreetly the roles they play in their family, which is often in stark contrast to roles played outside the family. The inside “joke” seems to be that no one knows they can break free, if only they would just walk away, according to Ball’s view of the family. 7th Heaven it’s not.
The performances are uniformly strong. Michael C. Hall as David, the brother who stayed home to take on the family business, is amazingly creepy and vulnerable at the same time. He also takes on the role of “troubled, closeted homosexual” that we saw in American Beauty.
The things that don’t serve the show well are the attempts to show the folly of the need to sanitize death. This is done with a series of interspersed faux commercials. For example, one commercial, which mimics a Gap ad, promotes sanitized dirt in a convenient shaker can (to sprinkle on the casket). Like most real-life commercials, the faux moments are amusing, but irrelevant.
Six Feet Under may sound like a down-in-the-mouth downer, but it promises to be one of the best reasons to come in from out of the sun this summer.
Sex and the City airs on Sundays, 8pm, Six Feet Under at 9pm, both on HBO.
Fan Fare
Star Trek: Voyager fans of all ages gathered at the Alamo Drafthouse to catch the finale episode of the series, thanks to the good work of some local fans and the conviviality of the Alamo. The thing that was so amazing was not the solid turnout, but the fact that many of the people I spoke with said they hadn’t seen the season leading to the finale (since UPN left town), but darn it, they had to see how it ended! Those who had seen the season were involved in elaborate viewing rings that involved friends with satellite dishes, VCRs, and express mail. Although I do not count myself among the official Star Trek fan base, I do have to say the finale was spectacular, and from what I could tell from the whoops and hollers from the diehards around me, a satisfying close to the show’s last season.
For those who missed the screening, an encore showing will be held at the Alamo on Sunday (6/10), at 4pm. Admission is free. For details call 476-1320.
E-mail Belinda Acosta at tveye@austinchronicle.com
This article appears in June 8 • 2001.