Showing posts with label Summer TV Horror. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Summer TV Horror. Show all posts

Monday, June 23, 2008

Flip This Global Stronghold!


Anyone who watches “The Office,” and thinks Michael Scott has become too much of a cartoon to be believable on what is supposed to be a reality/documentary series…head on over to TLC. Pop on a little show called “Property Ladder.”

- Watch! as people with absolutely no real estate experience listen to the advice of a woman who, in addition to having a decade of experience in the field, is the host of the show – advice intended to save them time, money and trouble – and respond, “Nnnaaah, I like my idea better.”
- Marvel! as these people listen to plumbers who are clearly screwing with them, and reluctantly agree that putting a toilet directly in front of a low window in the center of the room is probably okay.
- Wince! as a young couple decides to forego a housing inspection prior to buying the property, and then immediately discovers that, based on the pervasive wood rot, the house seems to be holding itself up on pure optimism more than anything else.
- Gawk! as three friends, who together refer to themselves as “Team Tripod” (also the name of their pub-quiz team, I assume), systematically destroy a waterlogged backyard because of their firm, yet completely unfounded, belief that adding a master bedroom is the key to selling the house for far more than any reasonable human being would pay.
- Grin! – while curling your fingers into Punchin’ Fists! – as one of them says, without a trace of irony, “Making a million dollars is harder than I thought.”

Now go and watch “The Office” again. And thank god they don’t write Michael Scott as blindingly, offensively stupid as these people.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

You Stop It Right Now, Billie Piper!

And now, I present my first impression of Showtime's British import, "Secret Diary of a Call Girl":

"What the...Akk! No! Stop doing that, Billie Piper! You stop doing that right now!"

Okay, that was pretty much the entirety of my reaction to this show. I was actually more uncomfortable watching Billie Piper simulate oral sex (and seriously, foley guys, easy does it on the sucking noises, please) than I was when David Duchovny was faux-banging his way through Los Angeles on "Californication" last year.

The series pilot tells you everything you need to know about its protagonist - actually, she tells you most of it through fourth-wall-breaking narration, and you can infer when she's being Unreliable Narrator the rest of the time - but even at 21 minutes, it still feels pretty slim. Hannah/Belle is a call-girl because she "loves sex and money, and is fundamentally lazy." And then the episode more or less affirms this, but doesn't give you much reason to care.

This may be the Curse of a Previous Role in effect. Billie Piper is so ingrained in my memory as The Doctor's companion Rose on "Doctor Who" that the image of her fellating a mutton-chopped old man is just feels very, very wrong. I'm all for an actor trying to shake an iconic role, and I do fully believe that Billie Piper is capable of other parts, but...jeez. This was her first choice?

Whether its the thin premise or the tawdry attempts to (Warning: Writerly Phrase Approaching!) "deflower Rose," there's virtually no reason here to watch another episode.

(And we'll end here with quick note for David Tennant: If I see you thrusting your naked ass in the direction of ANYTHING in your first post-"Doctor Who" role, we're going to have some problems.)

Monday, May 12, 2008

I Hate TV: NBC

Watching the otherwise perfect "30 Rock"/"The Office" block, an anger arose in me. Not because of the shows - "30 Rock"'s season finale was awesome, with only one minor complaint - NOT ENOUGH PETE HORNBERGER! - and "The Office" wasn't the best of the season, meaning it was only really hilarious and not astoundingly hilarious.

But I couldn't shake the nagging feeling of irritation.

As luck would have it, a Locke-centric episode of "Lost" gave my brain a nice, trauma-induced case of amnesia, so it took a few days to remember what had pissed me off so much.

Today, it all came back to me, in increasingly hurtful stages.

First, I remembered promos for "Deal or No Deal." Thanks to the summer, this show will actually INCREASE ITS PRESENCE. (I hear as a follow-up to GW's appearance, Dick Cheney will show up to shoot the banker in the face!)

Then the memories of the flop-sweat extravaganza that is "Last Comic Standing" flooded my memory. This is a showcase for excruciating mediocrity masquerading as standup comedy that, four years ago, was getting such deservedly bad ratings that its finale results were announced during a John Goodman-voiced animated sitcom (also cancelled after six episodes). And yet, it's summertime, so the thinking is, "You assholes will watch anything, won'tcha?" And to really rub that in, it's often hosted by Jay Mohr, whose mere presence screams "There is a God, and he fucking hates you."

This gaze into the abyss was jarring enough to unlock the final bit of trauma from my brain:

Blammo.

This summer, I will be watching "Lost" from the beginning, season 2 of "The Sopranos," and I might just get into "Battlestar: Galactica."

I will NOT be watching NBC.

(Does anyone remember when NBC felt like the "smart" network? When it ran "The West Wing," and Tina Fey wrote "SNL" so it wasn't absolutely horrible? Turn of the century NBC. Good times.)