TV Cures!

"The Killing" Leaves Many Viewers Angry...and this one, happy

2011-06-21T02:28:00.000-04:00

If AMC's talk forums indicate viewers' opinions accurately, "The
Killing"
might be in some trouble. Enfuriated viewers feel toyed with
because
the finale didn't wrap up the Rosie Larsen murder questions
as promised (during the season's first half).
So many people are
saying they aren't going to bother with Season Two, that
they've been fooled by show creator Veena Sud and her team
once -- and one chance is all they get.
I've never followed discussion boards about a television show
before. I honestly didn't know that the anger could reach such a
high temperature.
Sure, I groaned out loud, and laughed, when I realized how
many questions I'd be carrying around about the murderer, about the trustworthiness of certain homicide cops, about
what central character Sarah Linden would choose when
she realized how far the case was from being closed. (At the very end of last night's finale, she's sitting on an airplane just about to taxi down the runway when
the expanse of the mess and toxic aftershock hit her.)
Still, it didn't occur to me for a nanosecond to ditch the series.
Even during episodes that didn't live up to the series' standards,
I relished the characters' changes, how the dialogue is written, how
color and shapes are used to set up themes and subtext.
I'm going to do what I can to support "The Killing" next season.
Television this strong is rare. Angry people in discussion rooms are not.

A Break for Maria

2011-06-12T00:36:00.000-04:00

If I'd been Maria Shriver a couple weeks back, I would have been praying non-stop for a break in the monsoon of press coverage of my life. This week, Ms. Shriver's assumed prayers were answered. New York Congressman Antthony Weiner -- yet another politician who couldn't or wouldn't control his extramarital sexual adventuring -- got monsooned, so to speak. Televison coverage suffered a sudden case of temporary amnesia regarding Shriver and estranged husband, the ex-Governor of California. Relish it for as long as it lasts, Maria. You deserve so many more answered prayers. Even those who don't pray agree.

One Little Girl, Gone

2011-06-09T00:37:00.000-04:00

I never anticipated getting caught in the Casey Anthony trial. I don't watch courtroom shows. Justice matters to me, but most trials move with lead-footed slowness. This time, for the Casey Anthony trial, I got my own foot caught in the courtroom door, thanks to HLN's prime-time lineup. "Dr. Drew Pinsky" is coming at it as physician, an addiction specialist, and a father who's shaken that someone murdered Caylee Anthony, age two. "Joy Behar" may be a comedian by trade, but she has the tough bulldog instincts of an exceptional courtoom-and-crime journalist. Even "Showbiz Tonight", which drives me a little crazy with its hyperbolic scriptwriting, pulls me in if the Anthony trial takes a sizable chunk of their hour. Finally there's "Nancy Grace", well-intentioned and smart and more melodramatic than all the "Real Housewives" episodes combined: she's wall-to-wall Anthony coverage, however, so I watch for a least the first fifteen minutes.

How did HLN hijack the ear and one eye I keep on the tube? How is it dragging me over to the TV to sit down and pay full attention so often?

First, Pinsky and Behar usually provide worthwhile television, no matter what their topics of the night center on. Second, I am baffled by this trial. It twists my mind in a knot that mothers kill their children, mothers who are not suffering from post-partum psychosis. Casey Anthony makes no sense to me. If she killed her child, which seems likely at this point, I want to understand why, as well as I can. I've always been driven to comprehend the human psyche, both its darkest hours and its brightest lights. This trial and the blank-faced young woman at its center hold lessons for me, if I can watch long enough to learn them.

My Bad (TV Habits), Part Uno

2011-05-31T02:38:00.002-04:00

Yeah, Memorial Day can be tough on television's consistent viewers. "Encore presentations" and burn-offs of unsuccessful series show up all over TV listing pages. Still, some promising programs do get their slots. Do I watch them? Not this year. Instead I chose the second installment of this season's "The Bachelorette", and the debut of "Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition, from the team that runs "The Biggest Loser"

Not exactly adventurous viewing. Tonight, Monday, I wanted safe, familiar -- and mostly, fun. I didn't get it.

"The Bachelorette" franchise has not freshened up its formula. Plucky, smart, hot-looking single girl bravely wades her way through 25 bachelors (down to 13 tonight) via staged-for-televion dates and "private" conversations with the suitors, randy and rowdy on the surface, more sensitive in their hidden hearts. Ashley appears sincere; some of the guys strike me as worth dating. Yet even I, with my robust appetite for not-so-good TV, can't do this franchise again. I'll peak in for rose ceremonies and pieces of the finale. Beyond that, even my tastes are maturing a little. It would be delightful surprise if future "Bachelorette/Bachelor" seasons could do a modicum of maturing, too.

As for "Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition", there's hope for a better show coming out of the one that aired tonight. Chris Powell offers tough training and nutrition facts adaptable to people's real lives. Rachel lost 161 pounds over the course of the hour, but it was a believable fight; in the middle, discouraged, she managed only a three-pound loss in three months. Powell wasn't there to hold her hand through the year of life-saving loss. Unlike the featured "Biggest Loser" participants, she had to do much of the grittiest work alone. Her final-moments victory didn't get her to her desired weight, but it got her much of the way there. That's some serious inspiration.

Because it's just an hour, however, "Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition" has almost no time to emphasize its takeaway points on exercise and smart eating. It shows the struggling dieter crying about self-sabotage, yet gives us no useful advice on recovering from foiling one's own cherished plans.

It would have held our attention, to learn specifics from the often tearful Rachel and her bright light of a coach. More information and authentic stumbles, less emoting -- if the producers steer in that direction, they'll be steering the show into fresh territory, with its capacity for celebratory moments intact.

See You Sooner, Oprah....

2011-05-26T03:12:00.000-04:00

I have been an off-and-on viewer of The Oprah Winfrey Show over the twenty-five years of its life. When I tuned out, it was often because I felt uneasy with the power Oprah credited to individual persons and the human race in general. I'm a centrist Christian; I'm fine with listening to other people talking about their faith, whatever it may be. When so much faith was being put in the human psyche and soul, however, I needed to take a break. During this last season, I've watched more often, been more comfortable. Humans didn't seem like Oprah's elevated powers anymore. During the final episode, Oprah briefly explained to her audience "which God" she was referring to, seeing how some people got "riled" when she made those references. Later in the telecast, she thanked her team "and Jesus", because it was only the grace of God that made it all come into being. As for her final Oprah Show words, Winfrey held her hands in a praying position and said "To God be the glory". Then she looked at the crowd for a few vulnerable moments before leaving.

I smiled. I probably said "no kidding". I meant to say "Amen". See you sooner, Oprah.

How I got eliminated from American Idol!

2011-05-20T01:32:00.000-04:00

As one of the posts below attests, I had some hopes for the new judges, the new tweaks, the new contestants on American Idol. Turns out I hoped too soon. Tonight the two season finalists were coronated; last night, three of them battled each other and the judges had their last say-sos of the year. I could hardly watch either episode. Hence, I lost my spot in Idolville. a) It turned out that the judges praised far too often, and with too little helpful specificity for the struggling contestants. b) It turned out that the audience for AI has gone very young and very conservative. Rocker Haley got the axe in the round of three. AI ended up with two country music contenders, one 17 years old and the other 16.

c) If the interesting but vocally limited Scotty wins (my money's on him), it's going to read too much like show's most recent years. Last season's winner, Lee DeWyze, has all but vanished from the music scene. He seemed like a sweet-hearted bar band singer, not an American Idol, and his debut album bit the big one. The season before, Kris Allen's victory was yet another victory for yet another sweet-hearted bar band singer whose debut CD slid down the charts and vanished.

Both these guys were cute, endearing, engaging young men. Neither one had the chops for a big-guns career. If I'm wrong about either one, I'll be happy to chow down on my words.

d) Scotty may actually have a good shot at a big country music run. I hope he hits it. Still, his vocal mannerisms are both unoriginal and annoying; when I lived in Nashville, I heard countless guys with more creative approaches to country singing. e) Even if I'm wrong about Scotty, I can't willingly listen next season to the judging panel sound like they don't know anything about original, thoughtful singing, when I know they do.

I had a great time with American Idol for a lot of years. Nonetheless, it's time for me to watch the excellent "The Voice" instead. I'm also cranked up for "The X Factor" debut. Just the thought of hearing Simon Cowell once again intone, "Look, there's no other way to say it, that was terrible" -- ah, it's going to sound like music to my ears. Original, thoughtful music.

The Killing, Part Two

2011-05-16T01:11:00.000-04:00

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I talk alot. "The Killing" (AMC TV) makes me go quiet. Tonight the ninth out of thirteen episodes aired. More than ever, I'm glad I watch this Sunday night television treasure alone. The investment in the characters goes down inside the viewer much further with every installment. The characters themselves continue to show us more of their countless inner paradoxes and contradictions -- and even why some of those contradictions are there. Tonight they seemed loaded with anger and sadness and old wounds still needing to heal. So I'm even more quiet -- inside and out -- than usual. This is one of those scripted series that feels infinitely more real than anything offered by reality television.

For those of you who aren't watching "The Killing", I hope you decide to watch the remaining chapters anyway. The AMC TV website tells you most of what you need to know to catch up, if you so desire. I'd be willing to bet, however, that you won't care about not knowing how the storylines got to where they are now. That's how strong all the fundamental components are here.

If I could give you one clue about this grade A murder mystery/character drama, it would be a quote from a minor character at her parole hearing. Facing the board, and the widower of the woman she killed while driving drunk, she says something like "I don't think it's in our nature to forgive each other."

One thing this series talks about -- without saying anything too directly -- is the damage done when we don't forgive each other.

I can't measure its expanse, either.

I Can't Get Real With the Housewives Anymore -- and don't you interrupt!

2011-05-08T02:36:00.000-04:00

Argue, argue, argue. Gesture, gesture, gesture. Interrupt, interject, and the beat gets more rude with every episode I jump into.

The unfortunate reaction (unfortunate for me) to all of this verbal slapping and snarling: I can barely watch five minutes of my favorite city in the Real Housewives franchise, New York.

I've never found "the culture of argument" entertaining anyway -- my stomach gets tight and the breathing goes shallow. I have this reaction anytime I have to listen to people fight.

So what if these women are getting paid for being cruel to each other? I look for the moments when friendships actually have a growth spurt and/or the families have real fun, but they seem to be fewer. In the meantime, the housewives criticize sensitive and serious things like each other's parenting decisions, with almost no real knowledge of the situations and why certain decisions were made.

I'll keep popping in to see what's going on, but
that's it. Unless being kind and funny and less dramatic starts to gain traction, I'll stick with the two "relationship reality" shows that give Bravo reasons to be proud: "Bethenny Ever After" and the sweet, quirky-smart Rosie Pope's "Pregnant in Heels".

For now, a very lonesome storyline

2011-04-23T03:16:00.000-04:00

My first memory of television soap operas goes waaaaay back to the late Fifties/very early Sixties. It's a vague recall of a spooky set of opening credits, mood-i-fied by the cheesy genius of soap opera organ music.Then I started watching classics like "Ryan's Hope", "All My Children", "Another World", "As the World Turns", "Guiding Light", and, of course, "General Hospital". I was a freelance writer; I could work and stay up to speed on storylines like the wedding of Luke and Laura on GH. I thought some of the actors and stories just radiated creative spark. I thought they were plenty good enough for nighttime television; sometimes, too good. Other actors and plots, unfortunately, smelled like very old gym shoes. True soap fans were able to go from "wonderful" to "horrifying" in a single episode, being delighted by the inconsistency itself. Most soap fans knew that there was little or no rehersal time, very little turnover time for scripts, and that part of the genius of those who did it well was their ability to be brilliant on a half-second's notice.

So it's with real sorrow that I note, along with thousands of other scribes, that after September 2011, we'll only have six soaps left. Cancelled in the last few years (or the last few months): "Another World","As the World Turns", "Ryan's Hope", "Passions", "Guiding Light", "Port Charles", "Sunset Beach", and, finally, "One Life To Live" and "All My Children". It's true. Erica Kane is momentarily out of work.

I'm not going to add my theories about why soap operas -- or, much more accurately, daytime dramas -- have been leaving the screen. I only know that I'm losing the chance to see some of the best young talent, and the best older talent, on a daily basis. I tip my hat to all of them. They gave me decades of bad TV, mediocre TV, good TV, and, sometimes, great TV.

"The Killing" -- Sunday night telescape shake-up

2011-04-06T01:19:00.000-04:00

Getting gripped by yet another series -- the last thing I need. I took the chance on AMC's "The Killing" anyway. A couple of critics I trust think it's scripted drama's version of top-line couture. I don't know how to explain fully why it's so wonderful -- not yet. From seeing the pilot episode and the first, hour-long episode, twice each, I can at least promise you that it's shockingly compassionate, even to those who look most likely to have committed the title's crime. I can promise you extraordinary cinematography; "The Killing" does not get the visual treatment afforded most television dramas. This is a serialized movie. The colors they find in Seattle's loneliest corners make it into a film all by themselves. The young girl who was murdered comes vividly alive through the shock of her parents and friends. Like "Mad Men" and "Breaking Bad", this storytelling takes its time. The actors bring mysteries and questions just by the way they enter a scene -- they're that skilled and almost musical.

As for the police who will supposedly be the ones to solve the mystery -- they're the most merely human TV cops I've ever seen. Here's hoping "The Killing" remains the gift to the audience it is now. If not? The first two hours will always be in my file, under "How Good Can Scripted Television Get?"

New Idol, New Housewives, New Lightbulbs

2011-02-24T01:45:00.001-05:00

For reasons I don't understand, I've been avoiding "American Idol", after being a semi-steady viewer every season. At first I got it: I hate the stinky would-be singers that the producers stick into every episode of the city-to-city auditions. I was sure I was going to dislike Jennifer Lopez and miss Simon Cowell too much to make the transition.

Then I watched parts of a few early episodes and got a small shock. J-Lo wasn't being a diva; even more important, Steven Tyler, Jennifer and senior judge Randy Jackson were bonding. The chemistry seemed great. I felt delighted relief.

I avoided watching again for another three weeks at least.

Tonight I tried AI again, during one of the Hollywood Final 24 hours.
The chemistry between the three judges has gotten even richer.
I still miss Simon Cowell's smart frankness, but each judge is clearly trying not to be a kissy-huggy sentimentalist. The singers being pared down sound at least okay, if not excellent. (One heartfelt plea, however -- don't sing "I'm Not Going" or any Whitney Houston oldies, okay? Please??) It looks like I might be back on the American Idol track again after all.

The bad news this week comes with the debut of "The Real Housewives of Miami". The culture of argument and gold-star meanness has just plain worn me out. When Simon Cowell got mean and argumentative, he had points to make. These women simply lack adult filters, signs of grown-up psyches that can handle impulses to say cruel things. Other than checking Bethenny Frankel's second season as a solo ex-housewife, I am done with this franchise.

Remind me not to be "Real" when I grow up.

Later, Sarah -- Much Later

2011-01-03T02:22:00.000-05:00

I hate to admit that I can't watch something. My ego likes to think that I can view all TV, no matter how pea-brained, strange, cliched, etc. I draw the line at porn and gratitous violence. That's it.

Supposedly.

I couldn't watch "Sarah Palin's Alaska" (TLC), whose first season ends this week. I tried. Politics wasn't the issue. There's something about Ms. Palin that makes my skin crawl. I felt it the first time I saw her on the news during the 2008 Presidential race.

Bristol, by contrast, has some inexplicable charm and authenticity that kept her on "Dancing With The Stars" this past season. Still, every time the camera grabbed a quick shot of Mama Sarah, applauding her girl, I recoiiled.

Betcha she'll be back for a second season on TLC. As the woman herself says, don't retreat. Just reload.

The Snow Soldiers, 2010

2010-12-27T02:55:00.000-05:00

Every blizzard I've ever been in -- from Chicago to Fargo, North Dakota to Minneapolis to New York -- has its Snow Soldiers. These TV reporters get sent by their editors to various locales around the city in question, for the express purpose of standing outdoors in blizzards.

They bring rulers and yardsticks with which to measure the deluge. They collar passers-by and hope for a great blizzard yarn. What they usually hear: "I went out to get some milk and diet soda and then you called me over."

The colder and more encrusted by ice and snow the reporters get, the more they're enjoyed by their bosses. I'm not sure if we learn much about the weather from them. It seems to be the same lesson every year: standing out in a blizzard doesn't feel good at all. That's why the only people who do it are police officers and television reporters.

If you happen to befriend a television reporter, give them long underwear from someplace that specializes in outdoor toughness, like Patagonia. Hope that your friend doesn't suffer too telegenically -- otherwise, they'll get called upon to play human windsock or human snowcone. Or human yardstick.

Once Again, "The Good Wife" Goes Wow

2010-10-20T01:37:00.000-04:00

"The Good Wife" is having a jaw-dropping second season. The episode first run on October 19th nearly boiled over with crucial character and plot development. Just when hissing and spilling was almost reached, however, the writers and cast pulled back and gave us a moment or two for cooling off and relishing some small, tasty detail -- a character's glance here, an exhale of relief there...

I hope the show brings back Mamie Gummer as often as possible. She's so subtle and funny and intense -- all at once -- you forget that she's Meryl Streep's daughter. Gummer deserves to be watched and cheered for, period.

Don't worry if you missed Season One, or the start of this season. Just jump in when you can. If needed, episode recaps can be found on the CBS site. "The Good Wife" is so well-written and acted, though, that you'll learn about the series' past from jumping in to the present. As for the good wife herself, Juliana Margulies? I try to find weaknesses in her work from time to time -- but usually I'm too busy just enjoying the heck out of her genius.

Give Tim Gunn his own show again

2010-10-11T01:30:00.001-04:00

I love Tim Gunn on "Project Runway". I'm going to love his two books, once I buy and read them. I love the man's honesty about his celibacy, about being bullied as a kid, about trying to take his own life at age seventeen and how happy he is now that said attempt failed.

If I were a handsome, well-educated single gay man, I'd try to find a way to ask Tim Gunn on a date.

In lieu of a date, I'll settle for Lifetime giving Mr. Gunn his own show in addition to "PR". Bravo's effort, "Tim Gunn's Guide to Style", taught me a lot about fashion, self-esteem, wry humor, and life. Sir Gunn got thoroughly annoyed with Bravo when they tried to cast a second banana with whom he'd clash and create drama; if Lifetime promises not to pull such unreality stunts, I wonder if he'd consider it?

Besides being well-mannered, droll, kind, smart....Tim Gunn has a lot of life from which to draw genuinely interesting show content. As for fashion, few in the business know as much about helping people to look as good as their God-given faces and bodies will allow. That alone is more than enough for a broadcast.

Joy Behar Loves Doing Homework

2010-10-01T03:23:00.000-04:00

Happy first year anniversary to Joy Behar on HLN (9 p.m. and 1 a.m.). Yes, it's the Joy Behar from The View, flying solo and sitting in the pilot's seat.

On just about any topic this hour show hits, count me in. It turns out to be a lot of counting: She loves to hit a thousand topics per episode, the more diverse the list, the better.

Behar is a comic by trade, but she has a strong streak of the PhD. in her. That's how she manages to be a semi-expert on everything from reality television to Millenium feminism to celebrity culture to civil rights law -- the list is as long as your imagination can imagine.

This is a commentary/interview/comedy show with a compulsive's need to learn.

Not only does Behar avoid boring her viewers, she manages to edify in bite-size units. No wonder she's increased HLN's viewership by 14%. What a piece of work.

Jimmy Fallon, of all people!

2010-09-02T00:44:00.003-04:00

Before the 2010 Emmys dim completely in the pop culture memory bank, I have to lift an imaginary glass of the beer I don't drink to Jimmy Fallon. Yeah, I've seen his late-night gig, but never forced myself to concentrate and truly give the guy a chance.

I was concentrating last Sunday during the Emmy opening sketch/musical triumph. It turns out that Jimmy Fallon can play a very mean guitar and brilliantly sing like a lot of people, including (for that blazing opener) Bruce Springsteen. Fallon and an oddball crew of surprising talents, plus the wizard leads from "Glee", knocked out one of the very the best openings of an awards show I've seen in the bazillion years I've been watching awards shows.

For three hours, the whole affair levitated every time Fallon stepped on the stage.

I will never ignore Jimmy Fallon again. Neither will millions of other people who saw the Emmys, and really saw Jimmy Fallon, finally.

2010-08-22T02:06:00.000-04:00

Whew. Finally, I understand my great affection for the reality TV celebrity Bethenny Frankel. The (former? current?) co-star of "The Real Housewives of New York City" happens to be a humorous, brainy writer.

I'm not referring to her two co-authored "Skinny Girl" diet-related bestsellers. I haven't even read them yet. I'm talking about her top-of-the-head commentary throughout her solo Bravo series, "Bethenny Getting Married?" As new husband Jason (astute observer!) commented, Bethenny has been made warmer, more nurturing, more forgiving and more open by marriage and motherhood.

Still, she's got enough bitchery in her to spice up the just-revealed niceness. I laughed loudly and often during the series.

Bethenny, let the funny run loose in your next book. You have another career out there waiting for you to take the quantum leap of faith in a nascent literary gift.

Do I Have To Get Grumpy?

2010-05-16T01:26:00.001-04:00

I'm wondering about my innate levels of grumpiness.

I made a moderate amount of dough in the Eighties writing reviews and critical pieces -- but I never felt entirely comfortable commiting my opinions to print where the musicians in question could read the judgements and actually have crummy feelings about them.

As an inconsistent singer/songwriter who worked in low-rent bars in the Seventies, I knew how performers and artists felt getting bad reviews.

The review I remember most vividly came in Houston, Texas, at a singles bar. I was in an inspiringly mediocre band based in a small Midwestern town. We got this Houston gig on exceedingly short notice and drove forty-eight hours straight to arrive there more or less on time. The guys' faces needed shaving and my dress needed ironing. We all looked drugged by the exhaustion.

"Hi," I hollered to the crowd while the men hustled around the small stage, plugging in amps and checking connections. "We're Music Kicks, and we came here all the way from Iowa."

The drawl curled up slow, low, Southern and loud. "You shoulda stayed there."

We all spent most of the week catching bronchitis from each other thanks in part to frigid air conditioning.

Ten years after I wrote a review of a Hall and Oates album for a national publication, Daryl Hall interrupted a friendly, long chat to tell me how much I hurt his girlfriend when I called the lyrics to "Maneater" sexist.

I felt pained that Sarah had taken it so hard, even while she made a king's ransom in royalties from the tune. "It's a good source of income, so why does she care what I said? I've never been a big-deal critic or anything."

"But you're a woman," he replied, still looking distressed. "She thought you'd understand. You sound intelligent when you write -- she knew you were one of the sharp ones. Money doesn't stop anyone from wantiing support and applause." He laughed, apparently relieved that at least I responded with concern."The ones who say they don't care are liars."

I've always preferred writing musicians' profiles anyway.

Still, the inner Miss Opinions takes the reviewer jobs when they're there.

I try to write smart, write fair, write funny, and stick in a little snark to pay homage to some of my favorite critics.

There, now, I've revealed myself to be A Wimpy Critic. Do I have to get grumpy to be interesting for even myself to read?

Sarah would say no, I bet. She'd tell me to fake the snark, feign the grump and without getting corny, write from the heart.

I could do that, Sarah. I hope.

Every Year. The Cute and Talent-Free

2010-05-14T10:35:00.001-04:00

I wish no ill on Casey James, one of the final three on the current "American Idol" season.
But the man can only lay claim to being an adequate bar band singer.

The most memorable thing about Blondie's voice isn't a good thing.

It's his vibrato, rapid-fire, jagged. As Kara said when she (finally!) noticed it, James' vibrato resembles the sounds that sheep make.

How the heck did James take a spot in the final three when a master-in-the-making, Big Mike Lynch, was sent packing?

I hate to credit James' looks, but his sweet appearance and sweet personality tipped the scales. Lynch has a great personality but he's not pretty.

Crystal Bowersox could be as pretty as Casey James, but she refuses to fuss. The year's best singer is in the final three anyway.

Like Simon might say it, sometimes America gets it right.

Sometimes. The final two knockout is making me sweat.

Guilt and Guts, Part One: I Watch Big Brother 11.

2009-08-19T00:42:00.009-04:00

As of April 2010, I've shied away from this blog for almost a year.
Last time,I stayed away from my own blog for five whole months, because I feared lack of quality. In blogland I think that's called "Guilt and Guts Syndrome".

One can't write badly and feel guilty about it around here. In blogville roam countless readers who are experts at separating the good-bad from the bad-bad. They tend to gravitate toward writers with the guts to post both.

So I'm back, with something I truly should feel guilty about, according to most of my highly educated and wise-from-birth friends. I watch "Big Brother". I don't know when I started. I don't know how I do it. But at least now I know why.

I was one of those kids who didn't get picked much for teams, having worn glasses and undergone eye surgeries since age 3. No eye-hand coordination. I wasn't terribly interested in teams, anyway, being one of those artsy types. Art done by teams: that's where bad advertising is born.

Lately it's dawned on me that knowing how to function in teams makes up a critical part of the maturation process. It also helps you to survive retail jobs. So I'm fascinated with some of the reality television series semi-grounded in teams. "Big Brother" pits individuals against teams -- often the teams they're in. But the team lessons are there to be had, so I'm fascinated.

Tonight showcased a first-time surprise. A house resident deliberately got herself expelled from the game. Fired from her gig on the show itself. Or as I immediately thought of it, out of current need and greed: "she just killed her source of paychecks!"

It was one of the two Whiner Sisters, Chima. Like the other Whiner, Natalie, she's a "Big Brother" player who probably got hired for her lack of ability to discern between a game and real life. When one of the other players got her favorite human in the house "evicted" (BB term), Chima's brain shifted just enough on its axis. Yelling, moaning. Cursing. Weeping. Groaning. Public displays of anguish. And so on.

She became most notorious for ignoring various producers' voices over the house system, politely commanding the cast members to go here or there, do this or that -- directing the cast members, in other words, so that they could do their jobs.

Chima topped off her "Rebel Without A Clue" siege by tossing her body microphone into a pond in the set's back yard -- while the director of the moment urged her to put it on her body.

The next morning, she was ultra gone. Her Whiner Sister, Natalie, became uncorked.

I whine and get dramatic sometimes. Compared to the Whiner Sisters of Big Brother 11, I am the mistress of team cooperation and workplace self-control.

Television as therapy? Hey, I'd gladly pay Chima ten bucks for the therapy session she provided. Of course, CBS was paying her more, which would be part of my point.

I would have worn that microphone clipped to my upper lip if the bosses had asked.

Adam Lambert Took Temporary Control of This Blog.

2009-04-04T00:44:00.008-04:00

I don't really want to write about Adam Lambert twice back-to-back.

He's making me do it.

I wanted to see him go into musical and visual areas that might risk his confidence, that would at least shake up his
Phantom of the Eighties eyeliner shtick. I wasn't sure he could do it.

He did it. Twice. The last two "American Idol"-casts, Lambert changed a lot without changing what seems to be real Adam.

The week after my mini-fit post, Smokey Robinson mentored the Idol cast through Motown week.

Hey, talk about a natural spot for glam/theater rocker Lambert to oversing, over arrange, overdress, and blow himself to bits. Instead, he wiped
off the eyeliner, ditched the nail polish, swept the black
bangs back into a patent leather pomp. He wore a suit
coat.

The arrangement and the vocal he created for Robinson's "Tracks Of My Tears" quieted
everything down to a few instruments (with cello providing much of the melancholy) and a reigned-in piece of singing.

Smokey Robinson himself gave Lambert a standing ovation.

This past week, the final nine had to choose from the vast world of iTunes downloads. Like
it's often said, give anybody enough rope...The judges found their mantra early in the night:
"I just don't think that song choice works for you."

Lambert kept the brushed-back pomp hair (one small victory for dragging him into the 21st century). He took the goofball classic "Play That Funky Music White Boy" (Wild Cherry) and switched the time signature, for most of the song save the guts of the choruses. Singing it in 2/4 gave the song a transfusion of modern funk/hip hop. Unexpected, and just too much fun.

Lambert himself was having more fun than anyone else in the Kodak Theater, which is saying a whole lot. His falsetto chased the high passages of the original out of town. He remade a version that's legitimately his own.

The guy may have hideous taste in hair, eye make-up, manicures, and some stage clothes. He may have questionable taste in musical heroes. He may say too much when asked questions.

Those things matter less each week. Not only can Adam L. sing just about anything, he co-creates (with the "Idol" house band) pretty original arrangements and instrumentation.

He has fun doing all of it.

Okay, I yell uncle. I may not ever be a devoted
Lambert fan, but the man has my respect.

If he'd lift several shades of black dye from his hair? I'd reconsider the fan thing.

If the Straitjacket Fits

2009-02-27T01:00:00.005-05:00

Andy Dick had a happy moment during tonight's episode of "Sober House" (VH-1). House residents' team leader Jennifer was exploding verbally onto resident Seth during a house outing to a paintball game.

Andy stood close enough for a front row view of Jennifer's hurt and anger. He was smiling.

"I love to see people get upset," he said to the camera crew. Then it was something like "I don't know why, but I do."

Thank you, Mr. Dick -- you bullseyed my problem with a lot of reality series.

I love watching people handle competition. I love watching people make big strides in beating their demons, needless inhibitions, career obstacles, etc.. I love watching people find out how to manage big talent, how to manage disappointment about the limits of that talent. If any of it makes me laugh, all the better.

But I don't laugh watching other people melt down. Even if they're being self-indulgent drama kings or queens, which is often the case on reality shows, I feel empathy pangs at times. Self-indulgent drama is a personal talent I'm in the process of extracting. Still, you can book me for possession.

I've seen Andy Dick do the same theatrical melt-down dance that Jennifer was doing, so why was it funny for him to watch her? He seems to like her a great deal, actually. Not today, however.

I know, I know. I'm not supposed to empathize. TV critics always say that these "cast members" are merely exhibitionists. They swear they're trying to get sober or win money for charity or whatever. Actually, the critics shrug, they're just trying to get jumper cables for their careers.

Still, there's some reality in a good deal of reality television. I don't know if Jennifer was being a drama queen tonight or not.

I just know that a version of her straitjacket still fits me. Hopefully, not too much longer.

Mood Meter: down 2 points.

Bret Michaels Boards Bus, Forgets Parts of Brain?

2009-02-16T01:34:00.004-05:00

For some odd, maladaptive reason, I still think Bret Michaels wields serious intelligence.

I hung on to that opinion/delusion through seasons one and two of his VH1 semi-reality "searching for love" series, "Rock Of Love". The girls demonstrated classic reality TV lack of impulse control, lack of emotional control, lack of fashion sense, and badly oversized breast implants. Still, a few hinted at carefully disguised smarts and adult reasoning processes under all the hair. To watch natural camera magnet Michaels, to see his sense of the absurd do some dancing with the girls who got it -- tuning in was almost worth the time.

This season, "Rock Of Love" stepped out of the comic-book mansion and boarded a slew of tour buses for "Rock Of Love, Bus".

The bus poses no problem. The concert sequences give the big bang. Michaels is better on camera than ever, on stage or off.

Michaels' lady contestants? The casting stinks to high heaven.

The girls seem as if any sense of self-worth was surgically removed before they were hired. The bitchy meow behavior goes on incessantly. Fights end up noisier, meaner, and creepily humor-free. Drinking too much is never considered "too much".

Mixing "trouble" girls with brighter bulbs made everything more interesting and less predictable for seasons one and two. Bret, Bret. You've got years of a great TV career in front of you if you don't squander it away on a compulsive preference for huge breasts with a side of serious personality disorders.

Your "girls" can't do any better. You can.

The Power of TV Chefs Who Lick Their Fingers

2009-02-02T03:45:00.006-05:00

For most of my adult and teenage life, food was wicked.

It made you fat. You had to count calories or even apples would make you fat.

If you had fun eating, if you said "yum" or licked your fingers or smiled with too much obvious pleasure, you were only one tiny step away from losing control.

I still count calories. I like being scrawny. But
I'm beginning to understand the ancient truths about the bonds formed by sharing food, by licking one's fingers in front of others who are also having a good time.

Nowadays, if I were with one of my small-screen food fun heroes, I'd write in my calorie notebook only when alone in my hotel room late at night.

The word "calorie" would not pass my lips in the company of foodies, even those who didn't speak English.

See, I think God explained it beautifully to Eve when He gently told her that an apple was not the problem.

Cure is in the remote of the beholder.

2009-01-01T17:37:00.003-05:00

Just to be compulsively clear about this blog's name: of course television doesn't cure depression, any variation of it.

But TV can help.

It's been helping me since my pint-sized self listened to Johnny Carson on my parents' TV, Johnny and his audience's laughter audible in my nearby bedroom.

Assuming I'm using the remote control shrewdly, TV continues to makes me laugh -- a lot.

Reams of studies now state that laughter improves human moods through positive neurochemical changes.

Hey, it seriously works for me. Like the ad used to say, better living through chemistry.