MONDOmagazine

By Owen K. Craig

SPOILER WARNING!

The second season of any TV show is where it sinks or swims. It either proves it can stand on its own without using its concept as a crutch or it doesn’t, it’s where we find out if the characters will be given more depth, or if the gags will be stale. Most importantly, this is where we find out if we will get bored of the show. So, how was the second season of How I Met Your Mother? It was great…mostly.

Season Two began by dealing with the cliffhanger ending of last season. Marshall (Jason Segel) and Lily (Alyson Hannigan) have broken up and Ted (Josh Radnor) and Robin (Cobie Smulders) have gotten together. This new status quo led to some great and unexpected character dynamics that we hadn’t seen before. We saw Marshall dating, we saw him and Lily jealously trying to hurt each other, and we saw Robin in an actual relationship. Watching the character dynamics develop was both enriching and enlightening to see. Robin, especially, grew as a character this season and became much more likable as a result. The show all-most disposal of the extremely un-funny book-ending scenes — featuring the narrator talking to his kids about how he met their mother — was wise. Instead, the best part of the concept (the narrative voice) is kept with only the occasional shot of the kids (not speaking) to remind us of the idea that the show is a story being told.

But how were the episodes? The way I see it, the season can be divided into four subsections: the “Marshall and Lily Broken Up” section, the “Best Episodes Ever” section, the “Spinning Its Wheels” section and the “Wedding” section.

The “Marshall and Lily Broken Up” section consisted of the first six episodes of the season. Things felt slightly strange as the best couple currently on TV was not a couple at all. I couldn’t help but feel sad when watching Marshall trying to date other women (most of whom were inevitably stolen by Barney) while Lily tried to pretend she didn’t care. It was during these episodes that I realized how invested I had become in them as a couple and how great they were together, which is why they seemed so lost on their own. These episodes kept me addicted, as I couldn’t wait to see if they would get back together.

Other highlights in this section was seeing more light shed on Barney’s (Neil Patrick Harris) life by watching him guide Lily through his relationship-proof apartment — explaining how it “is not a place to leave a toothbrush” it is “a place to leave” (king-sized bed, one pillow). This section ended with the episode “Swarley,” which featured one of the best running gags in the show’s history as the gang starts calling Barney “Swarley” instead of his real name and drives him crazy. The episode also featured two guest appearances from Joss Whedon show alumni: Morena Baccarin and Tom Lenk (who join Amy Acker and Alexis Denisof as Whedon actors who have now appeared on this show). Also…you know…Alyson Hannigan. Finally, in the last scenes of the episode Marshall and Lily finally have a long awaited and extremely heart-warming reunion.

The second section of the season I have affectionately dubbed the “Best Episodes Ever” section. Starting with “Swarley” (it might be cheating to include this episode, but it’s right on the border of where the divide would be) the episodes here have some of the funniest gags seen on TV this year, whether its Barney playing a Chinese gambling game, Barney and Marshall’s slap bet, or Robin’s former career as a Canadian pop star. The episode “How Lily Stole Christmas” effectively dealt with some of the aftermath from the breakup and the episode “Singles Stamina” continued the trend this season of gradually revealing more about Barney. In this episode we get to meet his brother (played by Wayne Brady no less). The reveal of Barney having a gay, black brother who’s “just like him” was wonderfully handled and lead to one of the most heart-warming shows in this show’s history. It was during this block of episodes that this show went from being a show I like to one of my most anticipated shows every week. With the twelfth to fifteenth (and the seventeenth) episodes we enter the “Spinning Its Wheels” section of the season. Here we get a bunch of decently funny but fairly unremarkable episodes. No real progress or character development is made here, and none of the gags are particularly memorable. To make matters worse, this section featured the worst episode in the show’s history. “First Time In New York” revolved around Robin’s little sister coming to visit and the gang trying to convince her not to have sex. The episode was preachy, unfunny (except for a flashback to Barney telling the story of the first time he did it), and kind of creepy. At this point I became worried that the show might be on a downward spiral. Luckily, I was wrong.

Putting my fears to rest was the final block of episodes of the season, the “Wedding” section, which featured two major plotlines: Marshall and Lily’s wedding; and Ted and Robin’s relationship falling apart. The show definitely fell back into its groove here. The wedding was romantic, the Ted/Robin breakup was compassionately handled without drawing focus from the wedding (letting the wedding play out as the breakup happens under our noses was brilliant) and we got some more hints at Barney’s compassion. The reveal in “Bachelor Party” that Barney is responsible for Marshall and Lily getting back together was one of the high points of the season for me and his meeting Bob Barker was both touching and hilarious. The finale was a perfect way to go out for the season, making reference to things that had come before (the return of Ranjit) while hinting at the future (Marshall realizing that he and Lily really are man and wife and smiling).

So the season ends with things seemingly as they were in Season One: Marhsall and Lily are back together, Ted and Robin are single, and Barney is still hilarious. However, it’s not that simple, because the characters have evolved. The season had an impact on who they are, which is what the story is all about: how the little moments in our lives change us in more ways than we would think.

So here’s hoping that the next season is just as LEGEN… wait for it…DARY.

By Erin Gardhouse

SPOILER WARNING!

It’s no surprise that many Gilmore Girls fans were left disappointed by the absence of a last-minute engagement for at least one of the girls on the series finale that aired May 15, 2007, and signaled the end of the beloved show’s seventh and last season. For a show about two colourful small-town single women, isn’t an engagement the closure we expect when they bid adieu, in exchange for the years of racing home and eating dinner in front of the television? But no Gilmore Girls fan should have really expected a perfect romantic happy ending. If Rory first rejecting Logan Huntzberger’s heartfelt marriage proposal at her graduation party and then leaving in a horse-drawn carriage with — that’s right, her mother — didn’t already clue us in during the second-to-last episode, it was driven home in the finale: above all, this was a show about two strong, ambitious and funny women, who only need each other, and happen to be mother and daughter.

Despite the idealistic concept of a mother and daughter who are truly each other’s best friend, most viewers — daughters, moms, and men who have confessed in exchange for anonymity (TV Editor: I don’t know what she’s talking about) — always felt like they were in the presence of something familiar and real, eerily echoing their own lives. Many young women who have followed the show devotedly and are in their early twenties now, found in the trials and triumphs of Rory Gilmore parallels to their own lives. Even if they didn’t have to make the painstaking choice between attending one of two top universities in the United States, and their idea of a job search requires less than seventy-four resumes, they — like Rory — probably settled into university at the same time, challenged their deepest friendships, and broke down when it looked like everyone else around them had a plan after graduation while they were still grasping at straws. And while we admired Rory for her tenacity and grace, we were admittedly relieved when she proved to be less than perfect — whether it was losing her virginity to a married ex-boyfriend, or not getting the New York Times Fellowship — because that just made her more like us. A true “girlfriend girl,” Rory made geeky cool, and her understated sexiness and increasingly enviable wardrobe never overshadowed her ambition and heart.

No doubt Rory got her spunk — not to mention her fast-talking habits and diet — from her mother. But Lorelei Gilmore is more than just the other half of a duo that can eat “pancakes with a side of pancakes” and stay thin, for she is witty and complex in her own right. At times the adolescent that never got to be an adolescent (due to her teenage pregnancy) comes out, but ultimately Lorelai is a picture of strength for anyone who doesn’t fit in with their environment. She rebelled against the high-society life of her parents, and has always felt alienated from the other mothers at Rory’s schools, because she didn’t have the same car, the same clothes, and was young enough to be their daughter herself. But Lorelai carved a life for herself and her daughter in the gossipy small town of Stars Hollow, working her way up from being a maid at an inn to being the owner of her own establishment. So when the town celebrates Rory’s accomplishments, they are really celebrating Lorelai’s. As her own father says at Rory’s farewell party: “It takes a remarkable person to inspire all this.” With strong leads like these, creator Amy Sherman-Palladino showed a remarkable talent for writing women’s voices. After Sherman-Palladino left the show at the end of the sixth season, the rapid-fire dialogue, littered with obscure pop-culture references (affectionately coined Gilmore-isms) continued, but fans worried about the fate of the Girls. Not the least of these worries was that Lorelai would wind up with two-dimensional Christopher (Rory’s father) over the miserly but lovable Luke. Indeed, the whirlwind marriage early in Season 7 — which dissipated as quickly and meaninglessly as it arose — was the centre of a controversy that had everyone predicting an early end to the show. (On tv.com, the episode “French Twist”, where Lorelai and Chris get married, received the lowest viewer ratings of the series.) Of course, curious plot missteps and inconsistencies were not unique to the final season, despite what some fans may have you think. For example, whatever happened to the “real writing job” Rory landed in Season 6, after the long and heartbreaking rift between mom and daughter? It was a symbol of Rory’s ambition and independence, a turning point in her character development, which was then overshadowed by the drama at the Yale Daily News and the appearance of Luke’s “new” 13-year-old daughter. Rory’s “job” was scarcely mentioned again.

Regardless, every season of Gilmore Girls was worth watching whether that be for its main characters, or even the support characters who remained one of the strengths of the show as they deepened throughout the seasons to illuminate important themes, like the nature of family. The close familial relationship between Lorelei and Rory was contrasted with that of Lorelei and her parents, Emily and Richard, which beautifully showed family conflicts and generational divides. An even more complex example was Lane’s relationship with her conservative Korean mother. Watching friendship and conflict develop between the rock and roll teen and her straight-laced religious mother was a delight, and a necessary departure from the easy compatibility that Rory and Lorelai emanated. Similarly, the exploration of class issues was accomplished by Rory’s pursuits in Emily’s Daughters of the Revolution group, as well as by the contrast between her relationship with Dean — who never went to college, married young, and worked at a supermarket — and her relationship with trust-fund beneficiary Logan Huntzberger. But of course, these characters were not there to wave a finger in our face and teach us an important lesson. They were colourful, funny, and at times creepy (Kirk’s sash, anyone?) but all of them, in some way, reminded of us of people we know in the real world. And the series finale saw them at their best. Could Taylor have possibly made a finer farewell speech than the one littered with birthing metaphors? Could Luke have summed up his feelings for Lorelai in a way truer to his character than by saying: “I just like to see you happy”? Although Seasons 5 and 6 had us picturing at least one wedding (Luke and Lorelei), not to mention the possibility of an addition to the Gilmore family — and we will always wonder how Sherman-Palladino would have ended it from there — the end of the series ended as it should. Even if we can’t be sure exactly what will happen for everybody, the show left us with the feeling that it has always given us, and what made it so great. It left us feeling that things were exactly as they should be and that it’s all going to be OK. Kind of like real life.

Making you feel better about your television viewing habits by allowing you to say: “Well, at least I’m not like THAT guy”

By Alexander B. Huls

Given that it’s TV month here at MONDO, I thought it might be a good time to confess how into/invested in TV we really are here in our TV section. By we, I of course mean, me. Here’s your chance to silently judge me and my viewing obsessions, while making yourself feel better about your own. Or even better, maybe you’ll feel the same way I do about TV, and know that at least you’re not alone. On that note, if you have any confessions of your own, please send them on to alexhuls [at] mondomagazine.net. Leave your name, whether real, made up, or anonymous, and I will publish them later in the month in addition to more of my own confessions.

So without further ado, here are some ways you (by which I mean me) can tell you’re too invested in TV.

Saying goodbye…

You know you’re too invested in TV when, come May, you feel a little sad after the season finales of your favorite shows air, because you feel as if you’ve said goodbye to a close friend who is going away for the summer. Sure, you know they’ll come back in a few months, and that’ll be okay without them in a few weeks, but for those first few days a tinge of melancholy and loneliness follows you as you feel like there’s just something missing from your life. You’ve grown used to them always being there, and the thought that they won’t be there next week for their regular visit leaves you wondering what you’re going to do instead.

I’m aware they can’t hear me…

You know you’re too invested in TV when while watching you actually are unable to contain yourself and have to shout things out at the television. Whether that be yelling out “Oh shit!” or “No way!” in disbelief at insane twists in shows like Battlestar Galactica and Lost. In fact, my roommate can pretty much gauge how compelling and twisty a show is by the amount of times he hears me yell out “Oh shit!” when watching something in the living room. He calls it the show’s “Oh shit” factor. There’s also the “what the hell is going on?!” which has really only emerged since I started watching Lost, and has become pretty prevalent especially during this season. There’s also the very popular “Yay!” and “Aw!” which is often elicited by will-they-or-won’t-they television couples having cutesy-intimate moments, or on that rare occasion, actually getting somewhere substantial in their relationship such as a kiss or declaration of love? I’m looking at you Jim and Pam, Sawyer/Jack and Kate, Betty and Henry. In the case of Luke and Lorelei finally getting together a few seasons back, the “Yay” actually became more specific and turned into a vehement declaration of “Luke and Lorelei!” And the rarest of the rare occurred when, in Season Two of Battlestar Galactica, Adama finally got his shit together and decided to stand up to the infuriating commander of the Pegasus. I will admit, there had been so much pent frustration building up in me that Adama had seemingly (and almost out of character) lost his backbone, that when he FINALLY gave the order do something about it (“Launch the vipers”), I may have shouted to the skies “F— YEAH!”

I still have a dynamic personality…

You know you’re too invested in TV when you start acting like the TV characters you not only relate to, but get overexposed too. When I watch too much Friends, I start acting like Chandler. When I watch too much The O.C., I became Seth Cohen. When I watch Buffy, I tend to behave like Xander. When I watch too much 24, I tend to start yelling “Damn it” and “Son-of-a-bitch” a lot and call out the name “Chloe” at random. This proves to be embarrassing in bed.

Putting the social life on hold…

You know you’re too into TV when you have, multiple times in your life, succeeded in watching an entire season of a show in three days. In my defense, it helps if the show is compelling enough to encourage that sort of behaviour. Also, you know you’re too into TV when you’re kinda proud of this accomplishment and have a competition with your roommate as to who can beat the record for quickest watched TV show.

The broadcasting company, not the character from X-files who was created by the broadcasting company.

By Alexander B. Huls

You’ve all been there, most of you more than once. You know what I’m talking about. The love that you cherished, that you connected with the moment you met. The love to which you were so attached — and looked forward to seeing every week. Things seemed good, and then before you knew what happened, somebody came and took your love away from you. Never to be seen again.

If you were ever a devoted watcher of one of the many cancelled Fox shows, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Amongst TV-lovers, Fox has developed a notorious reputation for being a network that often screws over some of its best shows. Their methods include insufficient promotion, changing a show’s time slot so often that nobody knows when it’s on, and a general impatience to let a show find its groove and/or audience. The end result? Fox either kills its children slowly and painfully (Arrested Development) or quickly and immediately (Wonderfalls). Want an idea of how bad Fox is? Allow Seth McFarlane — whose Family Guy was also once cancelled — to enlighten you.

With the recent news that Fox has yet again effectively killed another show before it even really got started (their most recent victim being Drive), I found myself wondering: what the heck is wrong with Fox?

Now, before I go further, I do think that credit should be given where it’s due. Whenever TV-aficionados discuss Fox, it’s usually through gritted teeth, holding back feelings of betrayal, disappointment, and melancholy, so objectivity is sometimes misplaced. As a result, I think something gets overlooked. Let’s be honest here, these shows would probably never have even made it on the air if it weren’t for Fox. Fox is one of the few networks outside of HBO and Showtime that actually takes creative chances and approves shows that aren’t just medical dramas or crime procedurals (though, of course, it has those too). Could you really see any other network approving a show about the daughter of Satan, about a living rabbit puppet, about a man dressed as a gigantic blue tick, about a young girl to whom novelty items speak to, or a space western? Even 24 before it hit the air was an unconventional risk with its real-time, split-screen gimmick. If for nothing else, we should at least acknowledge and be grateful that Fox even let these shows leave their creators’ brains or script pages.

That being said, this is precisely what is so damn frustrating about Fox. They differentiate themselves from other networks by giving quirky, fresh, and solid shows a chance, only to smother their new babies when they feel that they aren’t walking soon enough. What’s the point of believing in a show enough to make it, only to lose faith as soon as it hits the air? Frankly, this also doesn’t make sense financially. Why bother spending hundreds of thousands or millions of dollars on a show that you’ll end up pulling your support for by either marketing it improperly or not picking a good or consistent time slot? Obviously, the network likes these shows on some level, otherwise they wouldn’t approve them for production — yet why is Fox so willing to throw the towel in as soon as it appears that these shows aren’t out-of-the-gate hits?

Part of it might be the state of the industry. While Fox is the worst example of this, there seems to be a general hesitance to let a new show find its sea-legs. Everyone wants a hit right out of the flood gates, a la Lost, Heroes, Ugly Betty, and Desperate Housewives. With specialty cable networks leading to increasingly compartmentalized audiences, networks want the big hits more than the small ones. Having a show in the Top 20 is where the real advertising money can be found. Not in the bottom 20. TV is, ultimately, a business, and as much as a show may be great, if it isn’t making money, then it just doesn’t make financial sense. Sucks for us though.

There are, however, multiple exceptions, and the above statement is by no means meant to be taken as a generalization. Criminal Minds and even the original CSI took some time to develop the audiences they hold now. Grey’s Anatomy didn’t start out as the ratings juggernaut it is now. ABC has recently announced that they are renewing critical darling Friday Night Lights, despite its poor ratings, so there is hope out there. Hell, as much as we all adored Arrested Development, if it came down to ratings, it should have been cancelled long before it did. Fox thankfully valued the critical love for the show and kept it going.

Arrested Development, however, is a perfect example of exactly what is wrong with Fox. In the end, I can’t fully fault a business enterprise for making the decision to axe a show that is losing money. My problem with Fox is how they go about doing it. In the last season of Arrested Development, Fox not only mid-season announced that the show wouldn’t get a full 22 episodes, but failed to promote the show properly, as well as failed to give the episodes consistent airing dates. The worst part of it was that the final four episodes were not only aired all together, but were put up against the opening of the Olympic Games that summer (which is pretty much the kiss of death for any show). Wonderfalls got a similarly bad hand. When the show wasn’t working on Friday, when did they move it to for a “better” chance? Thursdays: the most competitive night of the week. To make matters worse, they aired the final episodes of out of sequence. Now it’s rumored that Drive will be getting the same treatment, as apparently Fox is planning to air the final episodes on July 4th, the least-watched TV day in North America.

So what is wrong with Fox? Is there some sort of psychological explanation for their behavior? It’s hard to say, especially given that when a show gets cancelled nobody from the network is very forthcoming about why, or if they are, it’s doubtful they are being fully honest. Fox is, after all, old hat at this. While all networks cancel shows, it seems Fox is the only one who does so in this unfathomable way. If I had to postulate a theory, I might argue it has to do with Fox’s age. After all, compared to the big three (CBS, ABC, NBC), Fox is relatively young and in accordance to that has often been considered the “hip” alternative to the other three networks. Early hits like The Simpsons, 90210, and Melrose Place cemented that image. However, while that “hip” factor is still noticeable in the types of shows that Fox initially approves for production, it is almost as if the network is an adolescent being forced to grow up, but desperately clinging on to its youthful inclinations. At the same time, its youth means it has something to prove. It has to prove it can wrangle with the adults. The only problem? It is not the unique shows that are catching on, but the safe bets: House, Bones, 24, and American Idol. So if one of their shows doesn’t impress right away, it’s like a pre-teen desperately hiding their Pokémon cards so that the older kids don’t think he’s a little child. Then again, given that this is the network that brought us such fantastic shows like When Animals Attack, The Simple Life and Joe Millionare, maybe it does come down to the simple fact that Fox is as shallow as it appears and really does only care about ratings and nothing else, and thereby justifies its “sink or swim” approach to programming.

Obviously, this is all conjecture. We can postulate till the cows come home, because will this ultimately make you feel better about the fact that Fox screwed over that show that you loved, sending it to the television graveyard? Not really. Take comfort in at least knowing that, in time, your wounds will heal. Just don’t expect the bitterness to go away. That will probably take a while.

Proving modesty is something to aspire too

By Rebecca Harrison

A preface to this article: I love David Krumholtz. Not just in an “I really admire and respect his work” way, but in a “marry me and let me have your babies” way. So, believe me, writing this article hurts, since he takes criticism of his show about as well as he punctuates a sentence.

Three years ago, I was home for some reason, chilling and watching TV with my mom, and she was insistent that I watch her new favourite show, Numb3rs. Now, I was leery because 1) I don’t like shows with 3’s in their titles and 2) my Mom loves Sue Thomas: F.B. Eye.

So, in typical only-child fashion, I began bitching and whining in an attempt to get my way, but then something shut me up — David Krumholtz. He appeared on the screen and I decided that maybe I’d give this show a try because I am exceedingly shallow.

I soon realized the Friday night CBS drama starred not only Krumholtz’s curls, but also Rob Morrow (from my beloved Northern Exposure), Peter MacNicol (from my loathed Ally McBeal) and Judd Hirsch (from my never-seen Taxi).

From that night on, for thirteen episodes, I was enamoured by this strongly acted show with an interesting concept, but no clear direction. Was it a procedural (yes, please!), a family drama, or a show forewarning us of the predicted 2010 drop in employment rates for mathematicians? No — it was a pastiche of all three, but I held out hope that the show would grow into itself. It had such potential, even if the creators mistook numbers for letters. The family and friendship bonds forming between the characters were intriguing, mostly because of the strength of the cast, but the crimes remained weak, as it headed in to a second season.

And so it was, that one night after yet another episode where I correctly picked out the unsub (aka “bad guy”) the moment they walked on to the screen, I found myself on the Television Without Pity message boards. The Numb3rs forum was jumping and I began skimming the thread, when a particular message drew me in — it was a post from creator/writer Cheryl Heuton (aka CHeuton). She had begun writing regularly on the boards and it is because of her that I now vehemently disparage Numb3rs whenever I have the chance. With one post read on a message board, Numb3rs went from secret favourite show to most loathed show. How is this possible?

She made me defend CSI: Miami.

From her December 7, 2005 post on the TWoP message boards:
“I mean, come on — I watched a little of [CSI: Miami] the other night. The first five minutes of the first act consisted of characters walking up to a crime scene in slow motion. The lead character just happened to be in the confession booth when a mass shooting breaks out at a funeral going on just outside. Maybe mass shootings at funerals are common, everyday events in Miami — making it less of a ludicrous contrivance. I don’t know. You tell me.”

Now, I kinda despise CSI: Miami. I spend my Monday nights at home saying the same damned things Heuton said, to my Mom. But seriously, you’re Numb3rs — you have a mathematician telling experienced FBI agents how to negotiate, and tacked-on moral messages about why we should sign organ donor cards. Granted, Heuton has admitted that Numb3rs isn’t exactly great literature, but she also defended her writing by comparing it to Austen and Dostoevsky.

And so Numb3rs lost me. The show has the potential to be strong, were it to use the mathematically-solved crimes as a backdrop for the familial issues that must arise from having a brother/son who is a genius or brother/son who is an FBI agent and stay away from using math to solve crimes from the Holocaust.

So, now with this very article David Krumholtz hates me. Don’t believe me? Here’s his response on the Numb3rs.org forum on December 17, 2005 to a critique that the show seemed too right-wing:
“It’s a friggin’ t.v. show!!!!! Get a life, and next time, don’t post nasty thoughts here…there are plenty of other sites dedicated to our show you can post on, our show is just so popular…there it is, my nasty scathing opinionated post, a well deserved response, your “climax” if you will. Did it feel good? Now, clean yourself up and go to bed.”

Sigh. Forgive me, David! I loved you in Serenity!

Why you should be watching Supernatural, and thoughts on why you might not be.

By Alexander B. Huls

If you’re reading this and wondering: “What the heck is Supernatural?”, then you”ve come to the right place and also broken my heart.

Supernatural revolves around two brothers, Dean and Sam Winchester, who are nomadic demon hunters that ride from town to town in order to investigate and vanquish supernatural evil. And who doesn’t love nomadic demon hunters? In each episode the brothers grapple with a monster-of-the-week (much like early The X-Files), often inspired by urban legends and folk tales. Not content to settle for a tired formula, Supernatural introduces a greater dramatic mythology dealing with a Winchester-hating über-demon with a very nefarious plan for both the brothers and the world. And who doesn’t love nefarious plans?

While Supernatural is a spiritual successor to The X-Files, unlike that show, it succeeds in fusing its horror-movie-a-week concept with its compelling and well-developed mythology and larger dramatic arcs. The writers of The X-Files had no idea where they were going, but Supernatural not only seems to have a clear narrative direction, it finds the proper balance between teasing you enough that you’re still intrigued, but also telling you enough so that you don’t get frustrated. Unlike Lost.

The chemistry between the Winchester boys is one of the highlights of the show, as it draws rich dramatic conflict from Sam and Dean’s different personalities and perspectives. In fact, the show is overall very accomplished dramatically, finding ways to intersect its various elements (horror, family drama, etc.) so that they work well together. For example, sometimes the monsters with which the Winchester boys deal with one week are really a backdrop in which a greater personal conflict is explored. Finally, the show has a distinct and dark sense of humor that is able to both mock itself and the conventions it adheres to, while providing the appropriate sardonic wit and comic relief to prevent the show from becoming too serious, and keep it fun.

By all accounts, Supernatural should be a success, since it features elements that should appeal to multiple demographics. It’s got two young hunky stars that would appeal to teeny-boppers and middle-aged women. It’s got fraternal male bonding, manly action, a sweet ride and wicked classic rock tones that would please any guy’s guy.

With the incredible resurgence of horror films, you would think the show’s horror premise would draw the interest of those who flock to see The Ring VII. The show also features fantastic guest appearances by actors from other popular and cult shows: Julie Benz (Buffy/Angel/Dexter), Amy Acker (Angel), Amber Benson (Buffy), Linda Blair (The Exorcist), Tricia Helfer (Battlestar Galactica), Katharine Isabella (Ginger Snaps), and Nicki Aycox (Veronica Mars), just to name a few. Which brings me to my next point: these are all hot women, clearly appealing to any man with a pulse. So why is no one watching Supernatural? It’s on the CW, which has to be a big hurdle. This is a network whose nightly average ranges from anywhere between 1.5 million to 4 million, depending on the night. The CW also unfortunately chooses to air Supernatural on Thursdays opposite rating juggernauts CSI: Crime Scene Investigation and Grey’s Anatomy, which each average about 20 million viewers. Supernatural’s draw? Only 3 million.

Another problem is that dark supernatural shows generally don’t do well. Apparently audiences are only willing to accept soft takes on the supernatural, like Ghost Whisperer and Medium. The last darkly themed supernatural show that did well was, yup, you guessed it: The X-Files. Shows that are too witty, too dark, or too challenging (or all of the above) generally fall by the wayside. Think: Joan of Arcadia, Point Pleasant, Wonderfalls, Millennium, Harsh Realms, The Twilight Zone. Even critical and fan favorites like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel never really lit up the Nielsen Charts. Somehow peoples’ interest in the supernatural (or science-fiction, for that matter) does not seem to transfer from film to the television screen. Maybe TV really is only the land of crime procedurals and medical dramas, with no room for anything else. People have become accustomed to expecting only these genres from television, and as a result, are only interested in those genres.

As you might have realized by now, I don’t have any definite answers to my own question. All I have is a pressing desire, and hope, that more will watch Supernatural, because they are missing one of the best and most fun TV shows on the air. If I get even just one million more people watching this show because of this article, I will be pleased as punch. So start making me some punch. Supernatural punch.

Sources:
AgtSpooky’s Hangout
The Programming Insider

Universal Studios, 2004

By Rebecca Harrison

Posted January 14th, 2007

I recently read a book called How to Succeed with Women (shut up!) and one of the top tips for starting conversations was to carry around something peculiar. They suggested a large stuffed animal, which is cool, if you’re looking to meet 7-year-olds (and if you are, report to your nearest police station). My suggestion — and frankly, this will help you succeed with anyone — is to carry around a copy of any season of Quantum Leap.

Donald P. Bellisario’s classic show, which ran from 1989 to 1993, followed the time-traveling adventures of Dr. Sam Beckett and his holographic friend from the future, Al Calavicci. Though technically a science fiction show in premise, Quantum Leap tended to focus more on character growth and development, instead of resolving the question of who was leaping Sam or why the Quantum Leap project went wrong (the intent of the project was controlled time travel — not getting stuck in time). Instead, the show always focused tightly on the overarching theme that one person can change the world through positively affecting the lives of individuals.

One of the major keys to Quantum’s success is its genre-jumping (also cross-dressing). A combination of science fiction, comedy, drama, nostalgia, and social commentary, Quantum Leap is a television buffet with a little something for everyone. The meat and potatoes of the show, however, is the strong, almost familial bond between the two central characters. For a show that did not follow a strict episodic structure, Quantum Leap managed to cultivate a strong sense of character arcs and relationship development, with each leap revealing something new about Sam or Al, often strengthening the bond between the two men.

A rather optimistic show, each week, Sam was able to “right what had once gone wrong,” a sentiment with the potential to be saccharine. Luckily, the show was laced with a strong sense of melancholy. As much as Sam and Al enjoyed their work and doing good, the show’s opening highlighted its underlying sadness — that each week, Sam hoped the next leap would be the leap home. In fact, the most powerful episodes often involved a leap that somehow obliquely or directly touched upon a piece of personal history of either Sam or Al. My favourite episode, “The Leap Home,” is one of the few where Sam gets to connect to his past life, leaping into himself as a teenager. If I ever need a good cry, I just pop in “A Leap Home: Part II” and wait for the tears to flow.

Part of the magic of Quantum Leap is that, as dated as it is, it does not feel stale. The show is set in the future — which is now our rather distant past (1995) — but is an early 90s interpretation of the future, with flashy neon lights, holograms, silver suits, and hover cars. Putting aesthetic aside, the show was often ahead of its time, tackling issues that had not ever been tackled on television before. One episode dealt with gays in the military, a topical hot-button issue at the time, stirring up controversy and costing the show advertising dollars. The honest, tolerant manner in which Quantum Leap looked at the lives of the two leapers gave the show a resonance still relevant 13 years after the show was cancelled.

Even though it was early 90s hit, Quantum Leap has now gone on to achieve a cult-like status among those old enough to remember it. I brought my Quantum Leap: Season One DVD set to work about a week and a half ago to lend to a friend. As we sat around talking about favourite episodes we noticed that slowly, more and more people (from co-workers to managers) began to pass by and chime in on their own favourite Quantum Leap episode. With each person that passed, I heard another “Quantum Leap? Oh my God — I loved that show!”

So, you want to make a new friend or perhaps pick up? Do yourself a favour — go out and purchase a season of Quantum Leap! If you don’t have the same social success I have, you at least still have a damned good show. And that’s more than people who watch Two and a Half Men have.

Warner Brothers Home Video, 2006

By Owen K. Craig

Series developers Bruce Timm and Paul Dini get comics. They understand what makes them work, they understand why superheroes appeal to people, and they understand what comics fans – both adult and child – are looking for. It can’t be easy developing a show aimed at both kids and adults, but Timm and Dini have repeatedly succeeded in finding that balance. Justice League Unlimited is no exception.

The original Justice League series ran for two seasons before the announcement that the show’s format was changing – the cast was expanded in order to allow for a wider selection of characters. DC Comics opened their vaults and told the producers to go nuts. Which is kind of like letting a fat German kid loose in a Lindt chocolate store. There are a few notable (and unfortunate) exceptions. I, for one, really wish a Blue Beetle/Booster Gold episode had been possible. Despite the expanded number of characters, the show still managed to balance a focus on the “big seven” seen in the first two seasons (that’s Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Lantern, Hawkgirl and J’onn J’onzz for all you Marvel zombies out there), with characters that people may not be as familiar with. It’s a real plus for longtime DC fans to get to see characters like The Question or Green Arrow, and for the uninitiated maybe the show will introduce some new favourite characters.

Much like Batman: The Animated Series and the original Justice League series, watching this show as an adult is a bit of a mixed bag. The occasional episode is clearly aimed at younger audiences. An episode where the League is transformed into children springs to mind, as does a preachy and slightly patronizing episode about why war is bad. That being said, much more often than not the show really shines. The season’s first two discs are primarily one-off stories bouncing back and forth between comedic episodes (Booster Gold assigned to crowd control in “The Greatest Story Never Told” is a personal favourite), fairly tragic episodes, and the occasional horror story. The real payoff, however, comes in the second half of the season, when it becomes clear that the first half was all groundwork for a larger plotline being developed right under our noses. A word of warning, however: for full effect it’s necessary to have seen season two of Justice League. It’s an extra bonus if you’re at all familiar with Batman Beyond, since two episodes reference this series.

Whenever I try to recapture my childhood by re-watching a show aimed at kids, I find that the plots are thinner than I remember, the characters flatter, and the dialogue laughable — I’m looking at you, Ghostbusters. By comparison, Justice League Unlimited will still hold up when I’m old and gray. In between the shocking and often brutal action sequences, the show still manages to portray intense personal moments between the characters. The characters are fully fleshed out both as people and as icons, often exploring through them what it means to try and find a balance between being a hero and being a human being (a much bigger challenge for Superman). The show even raises tough questions in the second half of the season, such as “at what point to we stop being protectors and start being overlords?” Heavy stuff for a so-called kids’ show.Would I recommend this show to everyone? Certainly not. But if you’re one of those people who can’t hear John William’s Superman score without getting a smile on your face, or who can’t see the Bat-signal without feeling a tingle run down your spine; if you can’t hear “Flash” or “Green Lantern” without your head turning to try and find the source, then this show is for you.

Fox Home Entertainment, 2006

By Owen K. Craig

The sitcom is dead. At least that was the buzz around the watercooler, and I bought into it as much as anyone else. Single-camera shows like Scrubs, The Office and the much-mourned Arrested Development have been dominating the airwaves (in terms of quality if not in viewership) leaving traditional, four-camera, laugh-track heavy sitcoms in the dust. With shows like these, it’s hard not to be wary anytime one hears the cringe-inducing sound of a studio audience. I was ready to drive the nail into the sitcom’s coffin and pledge to never again watch another. Boy was I wrong.

When creating How I Met Your Mother, Carter Bays and Craig Thomas were told they were crazy to use the sitcom style, but they insisted. It’s a gambit that pays off. The show sports a friendly, easily accessible style that welcomes in viewers and makes the characters relatable, especially when played by such likable actors. The framework of the show (and, in effect, the show’s gimic) features Ted Mosby in the year 2030 (voiced by Bob Saget) telling his children the story of how he met their mother (thus the title). This framework provides the narration for the bulk of the show, which takes place in the present. Here we meet the younger Ted (Josh Radnor), a man watching his best friends Marshall and Lily (Jason Segal and Alyson Hannigan) get engaged. Ted is sick of being single and is looking for something more serious when he meets his dream girl, Robin (Cobie Smulders).

The show works on many levels. As your typical 20-somethings in New York sitcom, the show could very well take the place of Friends (early, funny Friends. Not irritating, later-season Friends). However, I prefer to look at the show as an in-depth look at the various stages of commitment in relationships. We have the fuly-committed relationship with Marshall and Lily, we have Ted who is looking for a committed relationship but doesn’t know how to find one, and we have their friend Barney who is not interested in a relationship at all unless it’s purely physical.

Speaking of Barney, Neil “Doogie Howser” Patrick Harris plays him pitch perfectly and has created the breakout character of the show, most notably through his infinitely quotable catch-phrases (“Suit up”, “legendary”, “have you met Ted?”) It’s a character that must been seen to be believed. But he’s not alone — the entire cast shines in this show. Segal and Hannigan make a believable and adorable couple, so much so that we can understand why Ted is so desperate to find what they have. Smulders is a refreshing change from many of the girls seen in sitcoms: smart, sexy and strong without apology. However, it’s Radnor that holds the show together. While striving for romance, we get to see him trying it all. We see his ideas, good and bad. We see his gambles, some of which pay off and others that backfire. When he makes his speech about not wanting to be single anymore in the pilot episode it becomes a mandate for the series. One which we get to see play out over the course of the season.

While much has been said about the show embracing the sitcom style it’s important to note that the show transcends the basic setup/punchline formula of joke-telling that sitcoms are known for. Oh, there are still punchlines, but there are also crazy fantasy/flashback sequences that modern comedy shows have become known for. There are also moments of dry wit that seem to move beyond the laugh track. There are intimate character moments, there’s tragedy, and the show features some of the most romantic moments I’ve ever seen on television. Bays and Thomas may have taken a gamble by using the sitcom style, but they’re not letting their creation by confined by it. People said that making How I Met Your Mother into a sitcom would kill the show. They were wrong. The sitcom style didn’t wreck How I Met Your Mother — it may have saved the sitcom style.