Sigh.
I really wanted to like Studio 60 on the Sunsent Strip. As the faithful will know, I was a major West Wing fan. To me - as a writer, a government worker and a political junkie - it was just about the best thing television ever produced. Ever.
Even in its waning days, TWW always managed to deliver an hour of entertainment. It may have been a far cry from the show's salad days (What does that mean? - Ed.), but the seasoned viewer could still get something out of it.
Creative geniuses Aaron Sorkin and Thomas Schlamme - the same brains behind S60 - always loomed large over the proceedings, even when they weren't directly involved.
My sense of mourning over TWW's demise and departure was tempered by the knowledge that this crackerjack team would have a new offering in the fall. It got me through the summer - not a time of the year known for its quality television - and even helped, to some extent, to mitigate the real-life loss of John Spencer, truly a gravitational anchor for the show's universe. In fact, I have argued that the show's central relationship was between Spencer and Martin Sheen.
Early episodes of S60 were uneven, to put it charitably. Any new show needs time to find its feet, and so I reasoned that things would improve.
Five episodes, 10, 12 in - and it's still wobbly. I'm starting to think: this dog won't hunt. But it's Aaron Sorkin, so I persist.
Now, according to Internet chatter - and NBC is doing nothing to debunk the theory - the show is on "indefinite hiatus." We all know what that means in tv talk: Buh-bye. There may be one or two more episodes during May sweeps, and then this puppy's toast.
And I'm not sorry.
The premise of the show had tremendous potential: a behind-the-scenes look at a thinly-disguised Saturday Night Live-type show. Anyone who's ever watched the late-night staple - and especially those of us who remember the early years - will know that what went on in the dressing rooms was often more interesting than what appeared on screen.
It looked like Sorkin and Schlamme would do to Hollywood celebrity what they'd done to the US Presidency - that is, to dissect it with an acid tongue but a loving heart.
Ooh, doggy. Was that off the mark.
In the pilot, Matt Albie and Danny Trip - played by Matthew Perry and TWW alum Brad Whitford, respectively - are hired on to become executive producers of a faltering show abruptly abandoned by its head honcho, Wes Mendell (played - brilliantly as always - by Judd Hirsch). Mendell has an on-air, expletive-filled meltdown reminiscent of Peter Finch's Howard Beale in Network.
What ensues is much! hilarity! and ribald! wackery! Except not so much. The show is a drama set on the stage of a comedy, not the other way around. So - while no one expects it to be funny all the time - one could be forgiven for thinking there might be the odd light bit.
Instead, what we got was a sappy, saccharine and gooey mess of romantic comedies and utterly uninteresting "lead" characters. Albie has an on-again, off-again relationship with the show's leading lady, Harriet ("Harry" - geddit?) Hayes. Tripp develops a serious crush - bordering on a creepy obsession - with network VP Jordan McDeere. (On the point about women sporting men's names, or even unisex names - ah, yeah. Moving on.)
We're treated in one episode after another to glimpses of Sorkin's tortured psyche. His drug abuse, his discomfort with Christianity and his (apparently) narrow view of women - or perhaps, as some have suggested, his attempt at avenging his failed relationship with Kristen Chenoweth - all played roles in contributing to the mess that was this show. Like Roger Waters of Pink Floyd, what this boy needs is therapy, not more time in the public eye.
To top it off, there are many recycled story lines, plot threads and devices (including the patented "pedeconference," where characters engage in machine-gun patter while walking, quickly, preferably through a darkened corridor). There are even a number of actors - and company names - that are lifted in their entirety from previous Sorkin undertakings.
To be sure, there are some interesting characters. Steven Weber plays Jack Rudolph as an interesting, complex network president who's not afraid to show his cojones, and yet has an oddly tender side. He's come a long way since Wings.
Likewise, Tom Corddry - who plays writer/performer Tom Jeter - is perhaps one of the most human members of the cast. His character does tip to the dark side when he first pursues Lucy Kenwright and then lies to her about why he has to break their first date. Not Corddry's fault - I'm sure he didn't write that particular story line.
There are many things Sorkin-Schlamme do well. Intelligent, witty banter is tops on the list. It's not to everyone's taste, admittedly, but it totally tweaks my inner Cole Porter geek. But physical comedy? Guys walking around in fish costumes (I'm looking at you, lobster boy)? Romantic entanglements? Nope. Sorry.
NBC's message board has lit up with entreaties from fans begging for the show's survival - as sure a sign as any that it's done. A sample (emphasis in original): "DONT CANCEL THE SHOW!!!!!! IT'S TOO GOOD TO CANCEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I HATE HEROS!!!!! I CANT STAND THAT SHOW! LET A GOOD SHOW BE ON!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Perhaps no show could have lived up to S60's hype - or to my expectations. Still, it's disappointing when something that should have been great doesn't even make "meh."
The good news is, there is an alternative. Again, not the sharpest comedy ever penned - but one that delivers what it promises, and doesn't try to be anything more. Alec Baldwin's Jack Donaghy is one of the best characters on tv today. And the nostalgic part of me believes that Frank (Judah Friendlander) is who Toby Ziegler would have been if he hadn't gone into politics.
Comments