I love TV. These days, I suppose I should be embarrassed about that, but I’m not. I LOVE TV. Pretentious people everywhere are shuddering at the thought (or feeling puffed up and superior because they don’t watch, themselves) but I don’t care. TV is awesome. And thanks to the DVR, these days, I watch more than ever. In way less time. With no commercials. It’s great.
I’m always looking for new stuff to take the place of my lost favourites (My So-Called Life, Buffy, Angel, etc.), so I admit I watched all kinds of crap this year. Alas, nothing really captured me. And some of it was truly awful. (Hellooo Pepper Dennis & The Bedford Diaries. You suck.) Other stuff was merely mediocre, but I’m gonna keep going with it anyway. Bones, for example, is a pretty ho-hum show, but I love David Boreanaz, and they’ve had a few good moments, so I’ll probably pick it up again next year. Ditto Crossing Jordan. (Jerry O’Connell, I know your secret identity.)
As far as mid-season replacements go, I gave the new J.J. Abrams show, What About Brian a chance, and am reservedly optimistic about next season. It got steadily better week to week, so there's hope. Anticipating autumn, I’m looking forward to Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, mostly because I recently developed a deep love of The West Wing and I want to see what Sorkin's got planned, but also because I'm not-so-secretly in love Bradley Whitford.
And of course I'll go back to ER, loyal as ever.
Actually, just last week I was thinking about whether or not ER had finally crapped out for real when, as usual, they completely hooked me back in with this year’s horrifyingly upsetting season finale. Figures.
Speaking of ER, D and I have been watching classic episodes on DVD and on the WB. It’s his first time. We’ve just made our way to the beginning of Season Five, and he’s got a massive man-crush on Greene, so there’s no turning back. It’s so hard to watch him watch without giving stuff away. I saw him falling in love with Gant, for example, and I just thought: Noooooooooo. Now, with the appearance of Lucy Knight, I’m tensing again. (By the way, I never noticed this before, but Kellie Martin, who played Lucy Knight, bears a weird resemblance to an old-school Sarah Michelle Gellar. It’s freaking me out.) What can I say? I sit on my sofa with D, watching him get into it, and I just think, Ow, my heart. It’s FUN.
Sigh. In case I haven’t mentioned this yet: I love TV.
So, is it too much? I don’t think so. It’s not like I’m a 700 pound freak who's eventually going to need to be crane-lifted out of my apartment by the Fire Department. I just love TV. I think it’s the most underappreciated art form, maybe because it's too accessible, and therefore unappealing to all those jerks who need to be different (read: special) to feel good about themselves. But ANYWAY. My point is that it's hard. People don’t seem to get this, but TV is REALLY HARD to do well. It's hard to strive for originality in such a saturated market, and to write so much so quickly, and to produce so much so fast. (And okay, I know a lot of shows are about the opposite of originality, but a lot of others are trying.) That’s what TV is. Hundreds of people, plugging away like crazy. How can you not appreciate that?
I should ask some TV snob to explain. There are enough of them around.
Anyway, pop culture makes you smarter. So there.
Thank you, Boob Tube. Thank you for my genius.
P.S. Seriously. Google Kellie Martin and Buffy. It’s uncanny, no?