Terra Nova (Premiered 9/27/2011)

Guys, where are we? The pilot for Terra Nova felt remarkably Lost-like. I almost imagine the show being born when a Lost fan said, “remember that moment in the pilot when we hear a primordial noise in the jungle, and you sort of expect it to be a dinosaur? Well, what if it was a dinosaur?” After all, we’ve got the settlers in a lush environment, the fear of what lies outside the camp, the Others, daddy issues run amok, a lone renegade individual out there somewhere, scary creatures, a colonial outfit with unclear motives run by an untrustworthy guy with a long history with the place, an interest in do-overs, second chances, and destiny, time travel and the prospect for as many flash-forwards, flash-backs, and alternate realities as you care to imagine, and to top it all off, Allison Miller’s hair specialist seems to have consulted the same How to Make Your Hair Look Great in the Jungle specialist as did Evangeline Lilly’s. On the downside, the cast isn’t as strong (Michael Emerson > Stephen Lang anyday), nor is the writing as tight. And most of all, especially when compared to Lost, Terra Nova’s pilot suffered from being in such a rush. Too many issues, divisions, and fault-lines were introduced at once. All in all, I found the show intriguing, and I’m more captivated and keen to watch the next episode than I am to watch the next episode of any of the other new shows. I guess they couldn’t draw so heavily from the Lost creative pool without picking me up in the bucket at some point. And perhaps in time it will seem silly to compare this to Lost (the British Primeval seems just as obvious a forerunner in some ways). But right now, it’s teetering on the edge for me, and I’d like to see it slow down and trust itself, before (yes, a review about a dinosaur show must have the obligatory stupid dino joke) it finds itself extinct.

New Girl (Premiered 9/20/2011)

Erin Copple Smith, Denison University

I  have only one complaint about The New Girl: virtually every moment of the pilot made an appearance in the promos for the show, making me feel like I’d seen the whole thing before, albeit out of order. That being said, I liked the episode just as much as I’d hoped I would. I know what the
detractors are going to say: it’s too predictable, too enamored with Zooey Deschanel playing herself. It’s true–Deschanel is playing according to type as a goofy-but-beautiful misfit. But she does it so well, her fans in this house (both the humans, and at least one of the cats) didn’t mind. The supporting cast was also good, if playing toward common 20-something guy character types (bro, muscle head, lovable loser). But the acting was adept enough that I look forward to their continuing development as the series
progresses. So was The New Girl a bit predictable? Yes (particularly considering the seen-it-all-before-in-the-promos issue). But it was also refreshingly quirky and cute, much like Deschanel herself. The closing moments of the episode, when Jess’s roommates rescue her from being stood up by doing a group-sing of “(I Had) The Time of My Life,” exemplify the series’ tone as a successful balance of silly and sweet. In a sea of sitcoms exemplified by “edge”, I find that sweetness more than welcome. Will some folks complain that it’s too predictable, too saccharine, too…whatever? Definitely. But I thought it lived up to its promise. Zooey & Co., (I had) the time of my life…and I owe it all to FOX.

Alyx Vesey, University of Wisconsin, Madison

Zooey Deschanel’s voice is the aural equivalent to a photo taken in Hipstamatic. Its graininess simulates a superficial, imagined vintage aesthetic. Deschanel co-wrote and performs the theme to her new sitcom, The New Girl. Inspired by John Sebastian’s theme for Welcome Back, Kotter, it intends to present the actress and lead character as “adorkable”. Perhaps it was once a curious move for a film actress to star in a network sitcom. But The New Girl is another platform for Deschanel to assert herself as an indie pop star. If not Cotton ads, her lifestyle site Hello Giggles, or films where she plays the manic pixie dream girl, why not a sitcom with Glee as its lead-in?

Protagonist Jess Day often breaks into song, indicating the twenty-something’s supposed charm. The key difference between this free-spirited kindergarten teacher and Deschanel’s previous roles is that Day is considered ugly and repellent to men. Day impulsively moves in with three guys she met on Craigslist following a breakup. Nick (Jake Johnson), Schmidt (Max Greenfield), and Coach (Damon Wayans Jr., who is returning to ABC’s Happy Endings) mentor Day on their definition of being sexy. Day’s best friend, model Cece Meyers (Hannah Simone, one of the few cast members of color), disapproves of this arrangement. However, she really wants Day to have a boyfriend. So she lends Day clothes for a date, even though she has a closet full of frilly dresses.

Creator and Fempire member Elizabeth Meriwether explored similar terrain in No Strings Attached, a comedy about Los Angelenos who hate their romantic prospects and seemingly each other. The New Girl has similar contempt for its characters. Worse, it also perpetuates the idea that young women are infantile co-dependents who need nerd glasses, insipid affectations, and male mentors to fashion an identity built entirely around men.

The X Factor (Premiered 9/21/2011)

Amber Watts, Texas Christian University

So, hey, remember back, like, 7 years ago when you still liked American Idol?  When Simon and Paula fought so adorably, and we thought Randy Jackson might actually have real words to say?  This is the same show, except the stage lighting is red (not blue), the judges have Pepsi cups (blue, not red), and Simon Cowell is doing Verizon (not AT&T) commercials.  Yes, there are other differences—contestant ages can range from 12 to senile, vocal groups are allowed, the judges will eventually coach contestants, and LA Reid has thoughts beyond “dawg” and “a’ight.”  Also, with a $5 million prize, the stakes of winning have been raised significantly.  The lack of an upper age limit further opens the range of tragic backstories—last night’s “Susan Boyle” was a 42-year-old single mom with a heart-wrenching “dream deferred thanks to an abusive relationship” tale (although the consensus in my house was that she was pitchy)—which gives us more possible reasons a reality show winner deserves $5 million.  In the end, though, I’m not sure if it will offer anything new, except, perhaps, exhausting the Fox-singing-competition audience before American Idol starts in January… That said, you should watch tonight’s episode; I was in the audience for the Dallas auditions, and the James-Brown-looking guy was pretty epic.

Yes, for those of us who fancy that we have more sophisticated taste in music than the great hoi polloi that actually watch American Idol without irony, or because we have to because it’s our job , the obvious reason why Lee DeWyze won the 9^th season over Crystal Bowersox, the far superior singer, is those damned little girls and their cell phones. There can’t be any other reason, can there? After all, ‘tween or early-teenage girls have been ruining “good” music for almost fifty years, ever since they used prehistoric communications media, or small weaponry, to tell Dick Clark to go fabricate some teen idols for them to swoon over. Don’t forget that their behavior made the Beatles stop touring – poor George was black and blue all over from the impact of jelly beans launched at him at high velocity. And let’s not forget that network meeting when a band of rebel 12-year-olds commandeered an NBC conference room and made executives fabricate the Monkees, or that period in the 1970s when they apparently made all programming decisions and brought us The Partridge Family and anything starring Bobby Sherman. At the same time, they were terrorizing executives at record companies, little Lilliputians tying up the Gullivers who normally held those positions. Yes, little girls have been ruining music for fifty years running.

That paragraph is absurd (well, most of it) but I am increasingly disturbed by the number of times I’ve seen ‘tween girls, and their forty-something moms, blamed for the sorry state of American Idol this season.   Salon blogger Steven Axelrod, for example, refers to the “Midwestern tween speed-dial monsters.”  Some block-texting likely occurred, but on this scale? Seriously? Little girls have been blamed for the sorry state of popular music, especially any depicted on network television, since Fabian and Bobby Rydell warbled on American Bandstand. The very first issue of Crawdaddy, arguably the first American journal of rock criticism, took pains to distinguish what would appear in its pages from the “what color socks does your idol wear?” discourse of fan magazines. Blaming little girls and their moms enables their continued marginalization in popular music realms, and supports ideologies that prop up the mythologies that are supposed to make us think that “good” popular music is authentic and non-commercial. I’ve written about this at great length elsewhere so won’t belabor the point, but I do want to suggest, no insist, that it’s time to put the blame for DeWyze and his ilk, many of whom were on American Idol last night, elsewhere.

That elsewhere is your HVAC system. Let me explain. Where do we most often hear American Idol-like music? In offices – business offices, doctor’s offices, dentist’s offices, and waiting rooms of all varieties.  What do we hear? The Doobie Brothers, Chicago, the Bee Gees, Hall and Oates and the like … that is, groups  trotted out last night on American Idol. Put them all together on soft rock radio and you have a nice, hum, one that does not require the least bit of attention but does provide a bit of distraction from the tedium of an office job, or sitting in a waiting room. You can learn to tune it out, like you tune out your appliances. DeWyze’s voice fits into the hum perfectly. It’s pleasant but doesn’t make any demands on the listener. Bowersox’s voice, with its rougher edges, stands out too much. That’s why the Idol judges started to prepare the audience for DeWyze’s win a few weeks ago.

This is not to start blaming another group of (primarily) women: secretaries, receptionists, and so on.  Not in the least. It is to argue that as scholars, we should question why “soft rock” exists, how it came to be the “approved” grease that keeps aspects of capitalism and society moving and distracted, but not too much to interfere with business as usual. We also need to study its naturalized position as appropriate music for grown-up women.  That is, we should investigate the power driving the hum.

It’s time to stop blaming female ‘tweens for “bad” popular music.  They’re about as responsible for it as your HVAC system. After all, twelve is the age where they’re supposed to be losing their self-esteem and starting to grapple with their hormones.  The combination of American Idol and unfettered cellphone access doesn’t suddenly turn them into a crazed horde that can subvert the top-ranked television program. Instead, blame your utilities.

(Addendum:  My 12-year-old daughter, who does not have a cell phone, had me text in a vote for Crystal. So there.)

Although there are other contestants this season who share her can-do attitude and legitimate talent, the sum of their parts still doesn’t quite equal Magnus’ and here’s why: She possesses a much higher degree of the kind of individuality commonly associated with the American success story. A “funny little thing,” according to Simon. An awkward nerd who plods through sentences in interviews and displays a somewhat psychotic fashion sense. At first glance, that is. Get to know her a bit more each week and you see that she’s actually an introspective interviewee, a serious thinker who cares about her world and those around her, who becomes suddenly stylish the more you understand that her apparent lack of style is simply a manifestation of her individuality. Moreover, she has a stunning voice and invigorating stage presence, having earned a comparison to last year’s Adam Lambert, produced a scream worthy of Aretha Franklin in her rendition of “Think,” and provided a dark interpretation of the already dark “Paint It Black.” (Her other performances—“Wicked Game,” “House of the Rising Sun,” and “Superstition”—have also been impressive, though the same can’t be said of this week’s clumsy attempt at Chaka Khan’s “Through the Fire.”)

Magnus’ individuality can sometimes be a little puzzling because the distinction between her private and public personae is so sharp and uncommon. Without undermining her authenticity, a useful comparison can be made via John Hughes’ Pretty In Pink. She is like a millennial incarnation of Andie Walsh, who is arguably the most heroic heroine conceived by a man renowned for his ability to capture the spirit of American youth, and portrayed by 80s icon and girl-next-door Molly Ringwald. Walsh and Magnus have clear similarities in terms of style and sensibility–and their refusal to compromise themselves. Upon being told, “If you put out signals that you don’t wanna belong, people are gonna make sure you don’t,” Walsh responds to her principal with respectful resistance and says, “That’s a beautiful theory.” In Magnus’ case, upon being told by Usher, this week’s mentor, that her voice was strong but her look needed some fine tuning, she smiled politely but clearly put the premium on her own judgment and sense of self. “I have to do something,” she said, “I can’t just wear a dress and heels.”

Sadly, this week her voice and her look were both a little off—but far better for that to be the case than to do it any way other than her own. Although she was praised for her “courage and conviction” and for selecting a song others wouldn’t have attempted, the criticism was harsh and visibly hard for her to take, but it didn’t keep her down. In response to Ryan Seacrest’s question about how it made her feel, she calmly and confidently explained, “I could give you a million excuses [for the poor performance] but I’m not that kind of person.  I’m a human being and, you know, stuff happens–but I just do want to say…I’m not defeated and I don’t take it that way.”

Magnus is not a typical contestant and may eventually be defeated for that very reason, which would be unfortunate because it is her originality that makes her worthy of idolatry. But one thing all Americans can agree on is that it’s not always the most worthy candidate who earns the votes—and that there is no victory more satisfying and more in keeping with our national ethos than that of the uncompromising underdog. In that sense, what could be more American than wishing her to win?

With all the talk of Jay being canceled, Conan being unwilling to leave his time slot, Google leaving China, and Raimi and Maguire leaving Spidey, so far we’ve missed the week’s other big divorce: Simon Cowell is leaving American Idol.

Ellen DeGeneres joked about his departure, but then noted seriously, “I am going to be very, very sad to see him go, because I think he’s made the show what it is.” She’s right about that last part. Indeed, I want to make the argument that American Idol needs Simon, or at least an angry, pompous, belittling Brit judge like him.

It’s not that he’s angry, pompous, and belittling, though those are all qualities that work for the show too: just as the writers of Glee could probably tell you, if you want to get away with all this schlock of people singing and crying, a large dose of ironic distancing can help some of the audience to stomach it, and Simon is integral for that.

But the key part is that he’s all those things and British. This is *American* Idol, after all, and so central to its pitch is that it’s just so darn democratic, just like this beautiful country of ours (oops, sorry: “yours”). Contestants succeed despite the odds. And those odds may be a complete lack of talent in some cases, but they’re also framed as being centered on Simon, the nasty Brit elitist who insists on getting in the way of all these American dreams, leading to him being booed, and “shut up” by the voters (who Ryan Seacrest grandiosely refers to as “America”), and forced into submission by the eventual success and popularity of the idols. Even when he has nothing but compliments, there’s supposed to be an air of the Great American Talent having silenced the nasty aristocratic European through pure brilliance. In a show where sound is so important, Simon sounds so very British, and so very alien. And just as in countless other items of Hollywood in which the Brit is the stuck up jerk, so too do we see a weekly or nightly telling of the fable of American nationality – democratic, accepting, optimistic, cool, can-do, hopeful and persistent in the face of Old World aristocracy, hierarchies, and meanness. The Revolutionary War didn’t end – it just became a reality show on FOX with singing, egregious product placement, and Sanjaya.

Without Simon, therefore, it’s not American Idol – it’s just a version of Idol that happens to be in America. He’s quintessential for its nationalist pitch (and, as an aside, he shows the degree to which America’s never quite gotten over its love and fascination with Britain, try as it might. Heck, just listen to the tune for “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee”). And while I’m sure it could still do well in the ratings without him, unless they replace him with another ne’er-do-well Brit (or perhaps a cold German or Frenchman, but American TV hasn’t shown itself ready for Germans or Frenchmen), I’d expect to see those ratings dip, as the national resonance dwindles.

Or would supporting the show in spite of his absence be the final way to show those pesky Brits that it’s USA all the way, baby?

An Idols or SYTYCD tour makes a lot of sense. These are reality series dedicated to showcasing performers, so seeing them perform live seems a natural extension. But what’s the deal with the touring chef stage shows? In Fieri’s show, he cooks (a little) and tells stories (frequently) and goofs around (a lot). Bourdain’s show, I discovered when I finally found a description, will entail, “speaking on many different topics including his travels, restaurants, books, and of course food…[and] also…taking questions from the audience.” Not exactly the same as seeing the chefs cook and/or eat on TV, so what is it, then, that makes audiences pay to see TV personalities live on stage?

At this point, I feel I should confess that I have attended two Idol tours (seasons 1 & 2) and one SYTYCD tour (season 2) and just saw the “Guy Fieri Road Show” last week in Milwaukee. So I’m not only a critic, I’m also a fan. And I admit that there’s something really exhilirating about seeing your TV favorites out of the box (literally) and live in person (even from the second balcony). In fact, when alerted to the fact that Guy Fieri was on tour and coming to Milwaukee, I knew right away that I wanted to go–even though I had no idea what the show would include. (In fact, I didn’t know until it started. It’s hard to find useful descriptions!)

But why do I (and 2500 other people at Guy’s Milwaukee show alone) flock to the theaters? Is it just a matter of fandom? We show up because we want to see the objects of our affection in person? Because we want to brand ourselves as a true fan? Because we just can’t get enough of these folks?

For me, it was all of these things, and I’ve always enjoyed my TV tour experiences. Nonetheless, I can’t help but wonder what’s next. Lost: The Musical? The Office On Ice?