TV That Makes Me Happy, Part 5

Yes, I am one of many who chanced upon this show not too long after learning of its imminent demise: I watched an episode, and I wondered--"What the heck is wrong with Fox?" Yes, like most Joss Whedon fare, it's hyped. Possibly over-hyped. (I say possibly, because I'm still torn about whether something so many people inevitably end up liking actually could be overhyped...)

But Joss Whedon fare is usually hyped for a reason: this hodgepodge of genres and genre cliches is one of the wittiest shows I've seen. Though it has been billed as a "space western," among other things, it is full of many sci-fi/western/other genre cliches. In short, the show is a hodgepodge. (A good friend who recently watched the serious with me liked to joke at any screen shot that purposefully juxtaposed horses and spaceships--"It's a space western, I get it, I get it"...)

The hodgepodge does not, as one might expect, make the show become one big fat (and flat) cliched, but instead breathes untold amounts of wit, humor, and fantastic caper plots into an intriguing setting where the rebels/thieves/men of honor (depending on where they are, what they're doing, and why) attempt to pull off heists.

Be prepared to laugh. Lots. And lots.

Also, surprises will abound.

And also: if you don't like this cast, you're crazy.

In short, watch it. It deserves the hype.

TV That Makes Me Happy, Part 4

There are few statements I could make on a daily basis that would hold true, regardless of the day--regardless of whether I was working, whether I was schooling, whether it was snowy, rainy, or sunny... One of the few subjunctive statements included in that list is this:

I would rather be in Stars Hollow.

I have never been as attached to a fictional setting as I've been to Stars Hollow. The city, home to the WB's Gilmore Girls--mother Lorelai and daughter Rory--has a small-town charm unlike anything I've ever experienced. I don't doubt that charm exists (according to pervasive rumors, series creator Amy Sherman-Palladino actually based it, to an extent, on a small Connecticut town), but a weekly dose of the Gilmores immersed me in that charm.

While the series followed the relationship between mother and daughter (and their respective romances), their tenuous relationship with Lorelai's parents, and the friends they all had...the story lines did not, as some have thought, stray toward the soapy. And this is why: all of these people are smart. Witty. Interesting. Quirky in the best possible ways.

Any given episode contains pop culture references below, indiscriminately disregarding divides between high and low culture: the episode, for example, where Rory receives her application references both "The Brady Bunch Variety Show" and Nikolai Gogol's Dead Souls--in the span of less than a minute. They delight in wordplay; they read voraciously; they listen to a wide variety of music.

In short, I love this show because these are the types of people I would love to always associate with in real life. If you don't believe me, try visiting Stars Hollow someday. You may find that you, too, would rather be there.

TV That Makes Me Happy, Part 3

Stargate:SG-1 is historic, in its own right. It ran for ten seasons on two different channels, spawned two films that followed the franchise, and killed one of its main characters off more frequently even than Joss Whedon chose to kill off Buffy Summers. (Poor Daniel Jackson, the PhD and archaeologist of the group had abominable luck with both life and with women: he died more frequently than anyone else on the show, and his women always seemed to die or become evil.) The show also made history by being the first--and only--show to write a character back into the show due to popular fan request. (Three guesses as to who came back from the dead.)

The four main characters--Jack O'Neill, Samantha Carter, Daniel Jackson, and Teal'c--with a one-season long replacement of Corin Nemec as Jonas Quinn after Daniel's character died--are a team of explores who use the stargate to journey to other planets in search of alien technologies that will help the US government. O'Neill, formerly retired, returns to the program after his son accidentally kills himself with his father's gun and his wife leaves. Carter, a scientist from the Air Force, provides scientific know-how. Jackson is an archaeologist/anthropologist/linguist, and Teal'c is an alien.

It does not shame me at all to admit I own all ten seasons, because this show never failed to be interesting and it never failed to amuse: nary an episode goes by without a subtle or not-so-subtle nod to sci-fi conventions (Col. Mitchell, who eventually heads SG-1, at one point says: "That was alternate reality. This is alternate dimension. Hell, all I need is a good time travel adventure and I've scored the SG-1 trifecta.") In addition, Stargate pays homage to Star Trek, Star Wars, The Simpsons, and a number of other pop culture icons.

A friend once observed that, obviously, the same thing must happen episode after episode: the team visits a planet, runs into difficulties, cracks a few jokes, resolves the problems, and then comes home. While this may be true, not all of the storylines are self-contained...and any mythology buff will be delighted to notice the mythological threads--from Arthurian legend to Egyptian gods--woven into the stories.

And, as the creators of the show observed in one of the commentaries (I don't remember from which episode, and I don't want to look it up, so you'll just have to take my word for it), Stargate: SG-1 did not survive for so long because it did well as a sci-fi drama. (I snicker, I admit, any time I hear people call it a drama...) It survived and thrived because it was a comedy masquerading as a sci-fi drama.

After all, all of the most interesting TV shows are like all the most interesting people: they refuse to take themselves seriously.

TV That Makes Me Happy, Part 2

Some stories never get old. People do not tire of their different incarnations. (Usually...) They carry on through years and years; sometimes they are told traditionally, and sometimes the storytellers see fit to tweak the original details. These types of stories, I think, may be the only things that have shelf lives longer than the shelf lives of Twinkies.

One of these stories, and today's topical show: BBC's Robin Hood.


I watched this show, from its beginning, back in the day when I lived at home and I had access to cable. (Specifically, to BBC America.) Its reviews were glowing; although it contains echoes of the original story, this Robin Hood isn't (to use a cliche) your father's Robin Hood. He's not much like the Kevin Costner incarnation from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, nor is he much like the Cary Elwes incarnation from Robin Hood: Men in Tights.

This Robin, originally a landed noble, has come back from the Crusades to an England much different than the one he remembers. And this Robin makes a choice to become an outlaw. While he could reclaim his title and lands, he also has a fine-tuned sense of justice and cannot stand to live in wealth while people around him suffer. Ergo, he becomes an outlaw and forms his "gang" of men.

His right-hand man, Much, fought with him in the Holy Land. And both of them have come back different men: the show recognizes the effects of PTSD anyone who has fought in a war may have suffered. And this Robin Hood, with his fine-tuned sense of justice, has come back wondering whether the Crusades themselves are justified: he wanted to understand his enemy, so he's read the Qur'an.

Maid Marian is delightfully anachronistic as a feminist character who has become independent; while her almost-betrothed fought abroad, she has been fighting (in secret, of course--she's not stupid) for the people at home. When he returns, she is far from ready to fall swooning into his arms and madly declare her love. (Instead, she tells him when he first starts fighting the sheriff, that he's being stupid. And she's right.)

But enough background. This is why I like this show. The Sheriff of Nottingham and Guy of Gisborne are just the sort of deliciously campy villains that you love to hate. (And, in the sheriff's instance, that you will often find yourself laughing at.) It plays out much like a traditional serial, with the exception of the anachronisms. (Which the show doesn't try to hide, something I find incredibly charming. The show isn't out to stay true to nitpicky details.)

The bad guys wear black. The good guys wear earth colors. The bad guys tend to use swords; the good guys rely first on bows and arrows, staffs, and axes. Nary an episode passes by without Robin delivering several cheeky one-liners and a few wonderfully bad puns. And Guy of Gisborne is delightfully complex: while he looks black and greasy (and I do mean black and greasy...the Sheriff frequently jokes that Guy should bathe himself and change his clothes periodically; Guy always sports greasy dark locks and a suit made entirely of black leather), he occasionally shows surprising spurts of humanity.

Very few episodes end in a surprising fashion, but I've found that the older I get, the far more I'm interested in how a show reaches its resolution. Not whether a show reaches resolution. And this show twists just enough in surprising ways that I can't help smiling.

And it's not just Robin, Marian, Much, Guy, and the Sheriff who are worthwhile characters. The other members of the gang: Little John (who wields a staff), Will (a handy carpenter who wields and ax), Djaq (a Saracen woman who joins them partway through the first season), and Allan (a cheeky thief who starts most of his sentences with the phrase "I'm not bein' funny, but...") each have their fair share of comedic moments (a personal favorite of mine is an exchange between Allan and the always-so-serious Will when Allan asks Will if he--Will--is thinking what Allan is thinking and Will doesn't hesitate at all before saying, "No. I don't think like you.") and of dramatic moments (a woman in camp, especially one as enterprising as Djaq, leads to problematic love triangles).

I readily acknowledge it's campy. But it's campy in the best way possible. Trust me. You'll see.

TV That Makes Me Happy, Part 1

I've made an executive decision: for the next few Tuesdays, I will write a recurring series about TV That Makes Me Happy. To be more specific, individual shows that make me happy. I suppose, if I feel an urge, I could morph it after I've finished discussing TV that makes me happy into discussing TV that makes me annoyed, angry... or even TV that I find downright stupid. But that won't be nearly as fun for me. So I think I'll stick with TV that makes me happy.

To begin, I'll mostly be discussing TV you can find on DVD. (So, you know, after reading what makes me happy, you can add it to your Netflix queue. Or if you don't have Netflix, you can rent it. Or if you don't want to rent it--and you live near me and are reliable and trustworthy and won't keep my DVDs for twenty million years--so you can borrow it from me.) Because I'll be discussing TV that makes me happy no matter how many times I view the episodes.

Today's show: Psych.

The basic premise, once you've heard it, sounds completely ridiculous. In the pilot, Shawn Spencer (James Roday), who has called in one too many police tips, uses his hyperobservance to convince the police department he is a psychic so they won't arrest him. (Ergo, the first season tag line: fake psychic. real detectives.) Spencer has a track record: though incredibly intelligent, he has the attention span of a gnat (which, honestly, may be unfair to gnats) and has worked several jobs "for the experience." Or, in certain instances, "for the free hot dogs."

But as ridiculous as the premise may sound, it translate into a funny, funny television show that--deep down--is part cop show, part parody, part buddy comedy at its very best. In the pilot episode, Shawn Spencer ropes his buddy Gus (Dule Hill) into becoming his crime-solving partner, citing their desire--ever since they were eight!--of opening a private detective agency.

Each week introduces a new police case that Shawn and Gus manage to sneak into; in the end, they inevitably end up getting paid. Shawn and Gus, together, piece together details of the crime: as they reveal information, Shawn inevitably finds a "psychic" way of expressing their findings to the police. All of his comic "psychic" shenanigans are usually hilarious physical comedy (a particular first-season favorite involves him dancing a ridiculous "Dazzle and Stretch" routine around the police chief's office as he supposedly channels a cat telling them that a supposed murder victim wouldn't have killed herself, since she was due to open in a play entitled--you got it--Dazzle and Stretch).

But the rest of the cast--Maggie Lawson as Juliet, Lassiter's more trusting and believing partner, Kirsten Nelson as the sometimes skeptical but usually won-over Chief Vicks, and Corbin Bernsen as Henry Spencer, Shawn's retired-cop father who shares the love-hate-sometimes-vague-amusement-and-surprise relationship with his son--all play their characters with flair and surprisingly straight faces. (I'd be a rubbish actor; this show is so well-scripted, I'd be laughing every other line I attempted to deliver.)

And as I mentioned, the relationships are believable and they provide some of the best moments: flashbacks assist in the establishment of the long-time nature of the relationship between Shawn and Gus, and between Shawn and his father...and they also illustrate why the main character in this show inevitably proves so funny: while he has grown more intelligent, he steadfastly refuses to completely grow up. (Although by the end of the third season, he has made strides toward growing up--not so many strides that the show isn't funny, but enough strides to make his character that much more human.)

I don't promise that you'll learn any life lessons by watching this show; but if you find any of the following funny--clever cultural references, a willingness to mock anything and everything (including, periodically, it's own premise), sarcasm, wit, two grown men jumping up and down like little girls when they solve a case, comedic pratfalls, spastic movements of the best variety--then this show will make you laugh.

This show airs on the cable TV channel USA (when it's airing; since it's a cable show, it has an airing schedule that generally starts mid-summer, breaks off for a few week in January, and then runs roughly February-ish through April-ish...if I'm remembering correctly). Anyway, the channel (which also airs Monk) prides itself on being a channel with "Characters welcome."

And I, for one, think these particular characters should be welcome in everyone's home.