Reign [Premiered 10/17/2013]

In this CW-ification of the story of Mary, Queen of Scots, a teenaged Mary (Adelaide Kane) arrives at the French court and upends the dynamics between Prince Francis (Toby Regbo), his parents, his bastard brother Sebastian (Torrance Combs), and a surprisingly youthful—some would say hunky—Nostradamus (Rossif Sutherland) who predicts Mary will bring the family to its ruin.

Maria Suzanne Boyd [Georgia State University]

Close your eyes and imagine you are watching Mumford and Sons or The Lumineers perform at a renaissance festival. Got it? If so, then you have a good feel for the overall tone of the CW’s new historical drama Reign. The pilot offers a nicely blended mix of fun, intrigue, danger and sex, and in keeping with the CW’s stable of regular programming there is also a hint of the paranormal. Adelaide Kane helms the overtly beautiful cast in her role as the young Mary, Queen of Scots, and it is nice to see her exercise her acting chops beyond her stoic portrayal of Cora on MTV’s Teen Wolf.

If gross historical inaccuracies do not bother you, Reign has the potential to be a delightful, guilty pleasure. The pilot exceeded my expectations both in relation to the production value of the program and the narrative setup.  The sets and costumes were dazzling, the large cast of characters was efficiently introduced, and the season’s main conflict was clearly established.

Put simply, Reign can best be described as Scandal meets Game of Thrones. This show has easily earned a spot on my DVR.

Alyx Vesey [University of Wisconsin-Madison]

This melodrama about Mary, Queen of Scots, as the teenage bride-to-be of Dauphin Francis wants to be many things, but “period appropriate” isn’t one of them. Following Marie Antoinette, the soundtrack utilizes marketable contemporary indie folk and validates such pop anachronism by securing artists like The Lumineers and music supervisor Liza Richardson.

Foremost, Reign wants to put the “rip” in “bodice ripper,” serving its demographics’ hormonal impulses with scenes of voyeurism, masturbation, infidelity, and post-adolescent erotic intrigue. It also wants to capitalize on ABC Family’s success with Pretty Little Liars by foregrounding Mary’s fragile bond with her handmaidens as they encounter regal treachery (prediction: the whole French court is “A”). Finally, it wants to legitimate itself by shading the margins with political machinations and grisly violence.

But for all its demands, Reign is timid. The young cast lacks distinction. They all have excellent cheekbones and offer tepid line readings. Kane is no match for Catherine de Medici (Megan Follows, forever Anne Shirley), who will call upon the supernatural (Nostradamus is her confidant) to prevent her son’s impending marriage. If Mary wants the crown, she’ll have to take on her mother-in-law first.

The Tomorrow People [Premiered 10/09/2013]

Robbie Amell stars as Stephen, a high schooler hearing voices who discovers he’s not crazy; he’s simply one of the Tomorrow People, a superhuman species with powers— Telekinesis, Teleporting, and Telepathy—threatened by a government containment program, Ultra, and its leader Jedekiah (Mark Pellegrino).

Myles McNutt [University of Wisconsin-Madison]

Having been responsible for writing the summaries for each and every new fall series, I’ll say this for The Tomorrow People: there’s enough going on that there isn’t enough room for it in the above. We didn’t get to the sentient supercomputer, or Cara (Peyton List) and John (Luke Mitchell) as Stephen’s guardians in this new world, or the daddy issues underpinning the whole shebang.

However, we also didn’t get to the ideas of The Tomorrow People, which are pleasingly evident in this pilot. While far from new, the questions of humanity percolating through the pilot are effective, and the duel for Stephen’s allegiance offers a setup—Stephen working undercover with Ultra—that feels both sustainable and dynamic. Nothing in the show’s mythology is new—the daddy issues are particularly unoriginal—but the math in the pilot feels well calibrated.

Yes, Robbie Amell clearly looks his twenty-five years and has no business playing a high schooler. Yes, the sentient supercomputer is a bit on the nose. Yes, Sarah Clarke is woefully underused as a generic, overworked mother. However, there’s a bit of a wink to The Tomorrow People that keeps it from drowning in self-seriousness; while far from brilliant, there’s enough here to suggest a show capable of evolving into a solid piece of genre television with the right guidance.

Melanie Kohnen [New York University]

I probably wouldn’t have watched The Tomorrow People’s pilot if I hadn’t seen it by chance at San Diego Comic-Con. While I watch a number of CW programs, nothing about the premise stood out to me, and the pilot confirms this at first glance. The Tomorrow People is a cookie cutter CW show featuring a mostly white ensemble cast of attractive young actors who portray outcast characters bound together by a shared supernatural fate stemming from genetic difference (think X-Men). If it hadn’t been for the last scene, I would have had no interest in watching the show again.

But Stephen’s decision to work for Ultra surprised me and makes me curious about what is ahead on the show. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised by this twist because Stephen’s decision embodies the ambiguity of so much millennial-oriented television, in which questions of belonging are not easily settled. Ultimately, the pilot suggests that biological family and a family of friends, good and evil, social outcasts and corporations are not extreme opposites, but co-exist. If The Tomorrow People builds on this ambiguity, it has a chance to exceed its too-familiar premise.

Bärbel Göbel Stolz [Indiana University]

This US remake of a 1970s UK teen sci-fi show did deliver. It is a teen drama that provides love triangles, high school bullies, a societal system that has to be rebelled against and displays at its center teen angst, all wrapped up in a coming of age story. In millennial fashion, the coming of age as Stephen comes to terms with his outsider status and powers develops at lightning speed, crystallizing within just 42 minutes.

The Tomorrow People also throws in Abel and Cain, a little bit of The Matrix’s Neo, X-Men mythology, and gender norms we have grown accustomed to in much of teen male melodrama (physically strong, non sexually-threatening males who’ve been partially orphaned; smart females, emotionally torn; bad-boy side-kicks). Given these elements, you may think “seen it, been there, I don’t care.” Yet, this show does provide a few interesting alterations from the norm that could be intriguing down the line, the most interesting one being the lead character’s choice—after just finding out some important truths about himself—to work for the enemy, most likely as an infiltrator.

All in all: If you expected a CW show, you got exactly what you expected.

The Originals [Premiered 10/03/2013]

In this spin-off from The Vampire Diaries, the Original family of Klaus (Joseph Morgan), Elijah (Daniel Gillies), and Rebekah (Claire Holt) arrive in New Orleans to play a part in an ongoing struggle for power between vampires, werewolves, and witches in the Big Easy.

Karen Petruska [University of California – Santa Barbara]

I’m a fan of The Vampire Diaries, but I am NOT a fan of Klaus, the character whose rabid fan base prompted the CW to create a spin-off based on his petulant, whiny, egomaniacal, and—oh yeah—completely immortal hybrid werewolf-vampire character. I am giving The Originals a chance, though, since it has finally removed Klaus from TVD. The pilot suffers from too much exposition and a lack of focus. Nevertheless, I was pleasantly surprised.

The character at the center of the action in this pilot was not Klaus but rather his brother, Elijah. This is a smart choice because I suspect a little bit of Klaus goes a long way, even with his biggest fans. Elijah, on the other hand, not only has a code of honor but also tends to get stabbed on a regular basis by his brother with a magical stake (that renders him pseudo-dead); as a result, Elijah is a character for whom you can root, while Klaus is an irredeemable “dick,” as program co-creator Julie Plec called him on Twitter last night.

The fact that Klaus remains irredeemable, though, now has me intrigued. His greatest crime on TVD was his immortality, which rendered all actions against him inevitably futile: inaction is the death of a plot-based program. If The Originals chooses to focus less on Klaus to consider more the stakes of Klaus’ redemption for his long-suffering siblings, I may be able to get behind that. Beyond the Original family, other characters—particularly those of color—will likely suffer as pawns of Klaus, an unfortunate perpetuation of discomfiting racial politics that weakened TVD, as well. My determination that The Originals is not as bad as I expected is not high praise, but coming from a Klaus hater, it is pretty dang impressive.

Kyra Hunting [University of Wisconsin-Madison]

While the pilot form is always a fraught one, The Originals walks a particularly high tightrope as a spin-off of a very serial show, The Vampire Diaries. In this respect, it was quite successful; providing a logical motivation for introducing non-viewers or sporadic viewers of TVD to the history of the Originals while providing enough new material to engage fans. While it felt weighed down at times, the narrative conceit of a supernatural turf war, with the pregnant woman’s body as pawn, was interesting. The Originals narrative and dark aesthetic, which often felt like a mafia movie, also could appeal to male viewers who are underrepresented in TVD audience. While it seems improbable, in practice, that the series will gain a large number of non-Vampire Diaries viewers, its move away from this show’s valorization of romantic love to a focus on, and problematization of, familial love provides a nice bookend for Vampire Diaries fans. While there was a little characterization regression, and a “you send one of mine to the hospital I’ll send one of yours to the morgue” machismo that put me off balance at times; I found the first episode’s engagement with questions of power, loyalty, and love, as alternatively revelatory and weakness, a compelling direction for The Vampire Diary’s storyworld.

The Millers [Premiered 10/03/2013]

In this multi-camera sitcom from Greg Garcia, Will Arnett stars as a man who his his divorce from his bickering parents (Margo Martindale, Beau Bridges), who subsequently move back into his life and plan a divorce of their own.

Myles McNutt [University of Wisconsin-Madison]

It is oft said that one must not judge a sitcom by its pilot, and that is true of The Millers: the version I saw earlier this year had two different actors in the roles played by Jayma Mays and Nelson Franklin, for example, making it difficult to definitively say the series’ lack of subtlety couldn’t be corrected over time.

And yet at the same time it’s hard to trust someone who so willfully indulges in fart jokes in the way Greg Garcia does in this pilot. The dynamic of parents forcing their way into your personal life works as a comic setup, and both Margo Martindale and Beau Bridges are up for the rhythms of a multi-camera sitcom. The series’ biggest problem isn’t that its various parts don’t make sense, but rather that the script doesn’t trust those parts enough to let the rhythms work without the assistance of recurring flatulence designed to appeal to the Las Vegas test audiences that would determine the series’ fate.

Garcia has promised there are no fart jokes in subsequent episodes, and Mays and Franklin are a bit better calibrated than the actors they replaced, so it’s possible optimism is the best course. At the same time, though, whether I’m willing to commit twenty-one minutes a week based on my trust of Garcia’s judgment is an open question.

Eleanor Patterson [University of Wisconsin-Madison]

What are the people on the laugh track laughing at? Seriously? This contrived recombinant of Everybody Loves Raymond and insert-any-crude-CBS-sitcom-here is just not funny at all. Overbearing parents come to visit their kids and seem inappropriately shocked that their son has gotten a divorce, but then decide that this gives them the right to get divorced themselves. The logic is absolutely ridiculous and the disbelief is difficult to suspend. Be prepared for jokes about farts and the humdrum mundanity of white, middle class, heterosexual married life. Okay, we get it, gender difference is inherent, and marriage is horrible (but somehow still desirable), and middle class normality is unequivocally articulated as a white space. Which is why Will Arnett’s character must be coached on how to get laid from his African American co-worker, played by the funny comedian J.B Smoove, who was very good on Curb Your Enthusiasm, but whose talent is wasted here.

This show is so boring, and it’s not just the retrograde morality (divorce, for shame!). The narrative structure and comic timing is interchangeable with any milquetoast sitcom in the history of milquetoast sitcoms. Watching Will Arnett play a snarky, smug local news reporter on the lifestyle beat makes me long for the days of Running Wilde, whose premise was at least somewhat unique. And after Margo Martindale’s fabulous turn in FX’s The Americans, its painful to watch her talent languish in this uninspired tripe. I expect it will be picked up: its ratings were strong and it fits the CBS brand of comedy. The good news is that these shows are only 22 minutes long, and won’t be showing up on competitor-owned Hulu, where I do much of my own cord-cutting viewing.

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We Are Men [Premiered 09/30/2013]

Based on creator Rob Greenberg’s post-divorce sexual escapades, the series highlights a young bachelor left at the altar (Chris Smith) who bonds with three other jilted singles (Tony Shalhoub, Jerry O’Connell, Kal Penn, and Chris Smith) over their shared bad experiences with the opposite sex.

Evan Elkins [University of Wisconsin-Madison]

We Are Men raises a number of questions: Can a beer commercial be stretched into a half-hour sitcom? Just how easy is it to waste the comedic skills of Tony Shalhoub, Jerry O’Connell, Kal Penn, and The Other Guy (in descending order of formidability)? How many different ways to disdain women can a show fit into its first three minutes? Regarding the last question, does the theme song, a masculine version of Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive,” count? (the Cake version, maybe? I’m honestly not sure, and I’m not going to subject myself to it again to find out.)

But We Are Men wants to have its Cake and eat it too. It wants to be a straightforward celebration of masculinity and a winking critique of it. The title gives this away—it’s both a rallying cry for men and an ironic suggestion that we’re essentially dealing with children here. But this sort of faux-ambivalence is old hat at this point.

It’s ultimately hard to see how this has any kind of shelf life. It’s not that it’s impossible for television comedies with shallow characters to be great. In fact, many of the best are flush with them: Seinfeld, Arrested Development, The Simpsons, Party Down. But all of those shows offer exemplars of shallowness with somewhat different perspectives (like at least one woman, for instance). This just offers us four slight, unfunny variations on garden-variety arrested-development manhood.

Alyx Vesey [University of Wisconsin-Madison]

This program bears the distinction of being the only sitcom in recent memory to take Kirk Van Houten’s storyline in “A Milhouse Divided” as its premise (I bet Tony Shalhoub’s Frank Russo sleeps in a racecar bed). The pilot’s journey from failed wedding to singles complex—How do we filter out the teases? We don’t let them in!—introduces a Van Houten-esque collection of characters: perennial divorcé Frank, cheater Gil (Kal Penn, who deserves better), and Stuart (Jerry O’Connell, who doesn’t), a man so saddled with alimony that he literally can’t keep the shirt on his back.

The quartet’s chemistry is serviceable, though the male lead has a bland congeniality that recalls Justin Barta’s unremarkable turn in The Hangover series. More remarkable is the comedic talent just out of frame. Alan Ruck officiates Carter’s wedding. Dave Foley briefly appears as his dad. The show claims HIMYM alum Rob Greenberg as its creator and credits Adam Arkin with directing its second episode.  But if Men’s “charm” is in downing beers and ogling bikini-clad neighbors with the fellas, I’d rather break my lease.

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The Crazy Ones [Premiered 09/26/2013]

Robin Williams returns to TV as an ad man who works alongside his daughter (Sarah Michelle Gellar) to make companies happy—starting with McDonald’s, Kelly Clarkson, and James Wolk free-styling about drive-thru loving—and make audiences laugh in this move into single-camera comedy for David E. Kelley and CBS.

Anne Gilbert [Rutgers University]

There’s a lot going on in The Crazy Ones’ pilot, not necessarily to its benefit. Simon (Robin Williams) is insane, but also a mad genius of advertising (or was, in some previous glory days). His daughter Sydney (Sarah Michelle Gellar) is uptight, but also sort of charming, and usually right. Their associate Zach (James Wolk) is kind of slutty, but also good at everything and totally likable. Kelly Clarkson is enthralled by her own unironically sultry rendition of “It’s Not the Meat It’s the Motion” in reference to…hamburgers, that we are supposed to eat…but also is just bitchy enough to make it funny. Oh, and because they clearly greenlit their role as “big client” in the pilot, McDonald’s is about family and togetherness, but not at all obesity epidemics or minimum wage battles.

The Crazy Ones is packed tight and manically paced, making it impossible to get to know the characters, much less care when – thank goodness! – they are able to help McDonald’s sell more (non-sexual) hamburgers. There is a slickness to the show that, combined with the David E. Kelley pedigree, the stellar cast, and the high-profile guests, means it takes a while to notice that it’s more polish than substance.

Jennifer Smith [Independent Scholar]

The Crazy Ones is about a man who used to be among the greatest stars of his chosen profession, now older and troubled and trying to prove he hasn’t become repetitive and irrelevant, and it stars Robin Williams, who… well, you get the picture. From the giant painting of young Williams in the ad office to the reference to the character’s addictions and divorces, the show isn’t subtle about the connection. This exploration of Williams’ star text is matched by Sarah Michelle Gellar’s attempts to both live down and live up to her Buffy past — she punches a robot within the first five minutes, but her character’s main arc is her struggle to prove she’s a successful adult professional. The show plays on our nostalgia even as it strives for freshness, which is also, not coincidentally, the point of the pilot’s McDonald’s/Kelly Clarkson plot. I don’t know if this is a good show or not, and it probably depends on your tolerance for Williams’ manic comedy (of which I’m admittedly a fan). But as a textbook study in negotiating star texts and intertextuality (it’s a modern comedic Mad Men, right down to the title), The Crazy Ones is a gift to teachers of media studies.

Karen Petruska [University of California – Santa Barbara]

I have taught Advertising and Promotional Culture too often to glean from CBS’ The Crazy Ones the sincerity it and its promos seem to want to inspire. Despite the program’s focus upon a loving relationship between father and daughter, it also features characters that mark the complexity of advertising as a business, particularly through characters such as the pandering, exploited female assistant and the charming, corrupt character portrayed by James Wolk. Advertising is called out as manipulation repeatedly. For example, despite assurances that “icons don’t like to sing about meat” and that Kelly Clarkson “[w]on’t do jingles,” Clarkson is nevertheless driven to do just that in order to reinvent her celebrity brand. A relationship of mutual dependence is therefore set up between all the central players, each using each other to advance individual ends, just as the many mentions of McDonald’s throughout the episode serve the ends of producer 20^th Century Fox, distributor CBS, and the larger ecosystem of television economics.

The Crazy Ones repeatedly exposes consumer culture anxieties—whether the agency can “pivot” (read: manipulate) Clarkson, whether a practiced pitch can read as “authentic,” and in my favorite moment, Gellar’s character replies to a question about whether icons like John Lennon were paid when employed to sell an idea (not a product) in an ad with “that’s besides the point.” Ultimately, the show is sorta funny and can sell a new brand every week (cha-ching). But if I tune in, it will be to see how long the show can sustain an awareness of the central dilemma of television and advertising: they seek not to entertain but to exchange viewers as currency. That balancing act is actually pretty entertaining.

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Mom [Premiered 09/23/2013]

Anna Faris and Allison Janney play daughter and mother, respectively, in this Chuck Lorre-produced comedy about a recovering alcoholic and working mother of two who must adapt to her mother’s return to her life at an already complicated time for her romantic relationships and her relationships with her two children.

Jennifer Smith [University of Wisconsin – Madison]

While the overbearing laugh track and Jon Cryer cameo make Mom unmistakable as a Chuck Lorre-produced CBS sitcom, this pilot surprised me with its genuine, layered approach to the exploration of the familial relationships between three generations of imperfect women.  Elevated by the ample comedic talents of stars Anna Faris and Allison Janney, Mom lets its women take center stage, making their flaws and challenges the driving force of the plot. When they’re the butt of jokes, it’s because of choices <em>they</em> make, and their relationships with each other, a relative rarity in current domestic/familial sitcoms.  Sure, the women are emotionally-stunted addicts who make poor life choices, but the men are philanderers, deadbeats, and narcissists – there’s no question of where viewers’ sympathies should lie. And refreshingly, the show treats characters with back stories grounded in addiction and teen pregnancy as subjects of gentle comedy rather than as freak shows or tragedies. This episode suffers from Clunky Sitcom Pilot Syndrome; the beginning, especially, is abrupt and disorienting, and the exposition feels shoehorned-in. But the comedic timing and slapstick are well-executed, and the characters are compelling. It’s not quite Roseanne or The Golden Girls, but it has potential.

Alyxandra Vesey [University of Wisconsin – Madison]

It makes sense that the promos for this series highlight the pilot’s diner scene between mother-daughter duo Bonnie (Allison Janney) and Christy (Anna Faris), following an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Janney and Faris lock into the itchy rhythms of their dialogue, relishing the “k” sounds in phrases like “licking cocaine crumbs out of shag carpet” in harrowing recollections of each other’s substance abuse problems.

I’m unconvinced that Mom, co-created by Chuck Lorre, Eddie Gorodetsky, and Gemma Baker, deserves the pair’s comedy master class. This critique hovers over Faris’ career, as she frequently delivers Goldie Hawn-level zaniness in lesser efforts (though I stand behind Gregg Araki’s Smiley Face). For example, the writers need to develop Christy’s work life without relying on winking cameos from Two and Half Men’s Jon Cryer. But some of Mom could work. I’m interested in Christy’s working class family and easy rapport with shaggy ex-partner Baxter (Matt Jones, of Breaking Bad fame). I liked Faris’ brittle candor in the AA scene. I’m leery of Bonnie intervening on behalf of granddaughter Violet (Sadie Calvano), who mirrors her mother’s teenage hedonism. But I’d like to see Janney and Faris trade barbs in a program worthy of their talents.

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Hostages [Premiered 09/23/2013]

Toni Collette stars as a surgeon scheduled to perform an operation on the President, only to have her home invaded by a rogue FBI Agent (Dylan McDermott) who holds her family hostage in the interest of determining the outcome of that operation; this fifteen-episode “limited series”—that means it will be capped at fifteen per season—tells the story of how the family and their captors’ secrets unravel in captivity.

Bärbel Göbel-Stolz [Indiana University]

CBS’ Hostages trailer looked not too promising. There is a promising cast, but the premise is problematic. Where can this plot possibly go?

Breaking with CBS’ procedural line-up the series sets up characters, narrative arcs, and subplots. Possible storylines that extend this to a season run, however, seem illogical. Being illogical is something that a good thriller is not. The FBI agent would not compromise the control needed to handle the situation; he does not make mistakes. It seems unlikely that his kidnapper alter ego would. Opportunities are laid out before us, but are too few to push past a heavy-handed pilot. There are so many possible complications; I almost do not care when they will come into play. The sole question is not if or how, but when. It makes me think I am waiting for a bus.

Exception: The evil kidnappers kill yellow labs, America’s favorite furry family member. But then, the pet is revealed alive. This is the series’ promise: you won’t know who is good or bad. It still feels predictable. The sub-plots will extend this series’ run, likely at the cost of narrative cohesion, pace, and my interest in watching. I hope my pessimism will be exchanged for excitement. I am not holding my breath to find out.

Jonathan Gray [University of Wisconsin – Madison]

Someone needs to sit down with the Hostages writers and explain how thrillers work. They seem to have misheard the notion that thrillers can’t be all action, and require some build up, as “make sure there are lots of boring scenes in between the exciting ones.” The first fifteen minutes in particular are profoundly boring, even in spite of the music’s heavy-handed attempts to create suspense or to try and convince me that Dylan McDermott’s Duncan Carlisle is Totally Badass. McDermott and Toni Collette both find ways to make the show slightly more interesting as it goes along, but much of the show felt so trite, so paint-by-numbers. The only scene in which something seemed legitimately at stake was one in which Collette’s Dr. Ellen Sanders almost cuts off a finger. Good serial programs nearly always need a few episodes that are there simply to set things up, and that aren’t all that enjoyable, but it’s bad strategy to make the pilot one of them. I’m left expecting a show that will continually spin its wheels. The pilot ends with Sanders seemingly buying herself two weeks, but unless the writers do something, I can’t see it lasting too much longer than that.

Alyxandra Vesey [University of Wisconsin – Madison]

I watched the Hostages pilot for Toni Collette’s face. As a longtime fan (the popsicle scene in Little Miss Sunshine!), I delight in her visage’s affective athleticism, which always reveals—and, often, quickly buries—characters’ subjectivities.  Even when the material fails to meet her, watching Collette build a character for a primetime political thriller is an event to me.

Adapted from an Israeli series, Hostages models itself after Homeland, with remnants of 24 crowding the margins. Collette plays Dr. Ellen Sanders, a surgeon with a seemingly perfect family life. She inherits President Paul Kincaid (James Naughton) as a patient. But the episode devotes much of its packed, at-times incoherent hour to her family’s kidnapping by an FBI team led by special agent Duncan Carlisle (Dylan McDermott). His unclear motive is tenuously connected to an assassination plot and his ailing wife. For me, the hook is in its final scene when Sanders, who injected blood thinner in the President’s bloodstream to buy time against Carlisle, stares into the camera during a press conference and dares him to make a move. It’s a heightened conclusion. But Hostages might set itself apart if it prioritized its formidable lead actress and her face’s storytelling capabilities.

Partners (Premiered 09/24/2012)

From Will & Grace creators Max Mutchnick and David Kohan, Partners is a multi-camera, laugh-track sitcom that explores the unique “bromance” between a gay man (Michael Urie) and a straight man (David Krumholtz). Louis and Joe are life-long friends and business partners struggling to balance their love lives (and their differing sexualities) with their friendship. Partners attracted attention when critics pointed to similarities between it and an earlier series of the same name from 1995. [Taylor Cole Miller]

Alfred L. Martin Jr. – University of Texas – Austin

CBS’ new comedy (a word that can only be loosely applied here) Partners is hideous almost from the first frame.  Its multi-horridness goes beyond what it attempts to represent (a kind of Will & Grace 2.0), and can largely be whittled down to this: Partners is just not funny.  While the jokes per page are high (and the actors work hard to try to sell this flaccid material), none of them are funny.

The opening vignettes designed to demonstrate that two friends (one gay, the other not) have a long history together instead draws on culturally held stereotypes about gayness wherein “the gays” (always already male) are firmly rooted in knowledge of spas and interior design, areas about which their heterosexual male counterparts are blissfully unaware.

Certainly sitcoms by their very nature must be rooted in broadly based stereotypes, but based on its pilot episode, Partners relies on a kind of gay iconography that connects gays with theatricality (the show’s main gay couple Louis and Wyatt have a dog named Elphaba, the protagonist from the musical Wicked) and camp (a teenage Louis wishes to marry Bette Midler) perhaps as a way to demonstrate that Louis was “born this way” but ultimately, it reifies stereotypes without making a comment (for “good” or “bad” about them.  Certainly, pilots are often different from the series they ultimately become (with Golden Girls as a great example), but Partners has a lot of ground to make up given its less-than-stellar 6.8 million viewers.  As TVByTheNumbers points out, those numbers are OK for NBC, but not CBS.  Perhaps Partners will get better in the second (and subsequent) episodes, but I am not holding out hope in an era that quickly discards show without allowing them time to “find an audience.” And with a show this unfunny, no one should be watching anyway.

Vegas (Premiered 09/25/2012)

In what might be the most indirect spinoff in recent memory, CBS has taken the period flashback episodes of the original CSI and found a way to tell those stories of a nascent, burgeoning Las Vegas trapped between the mob and the law. Ralph Lamb (Dennis Quaid) is a rancher with a knack for solving crimes who values capital-j Justice and who ends up toe-to-toe with the gangsters—including Michael Chiklis’ Vincent Savino—who believe the town is theirs to run. [Myles McNutt]

Myles McNutt – University of Wisconsin-Madison

Given the period setting, Vegas leans heavily on generic deserts and green screen effects, building a facsimile of 60’s Las Vegas through strategic localization wherein key locations like McCarron Airport or the distinctive neon signs of the early strip are recreated in detail and the spaces in between are a generic recreation of period Las Vegas without the same specificity.

What will be interesting to see is how they manage this over time: not every episode will have the budget of the pilot, and I’m interested in what kind of standing sets they’re working with. Whereas Mad Men utilizes primarily indoor locations in order to better transport viewers back a half-century, the sparse geographical outskirts of 60s Vegas gives the show the capacity to use the desert as a location that doesn’t need to be redressed to meet certain expectations: sand is sand, after all, no matter what century it’s in.

It will be intriguing, though, to see how the spaces of the series shift as it moves forward. Whereas CSI’s cases are able to draw from a range of geographical areas within a modern Las Vegas (like the suburbs, for example), Vegas’ tight focus on the gaming commission and its influence on the city’s future may narrow their storytelling possibilities; while my knowledge of 60s Las Vegas and its geography is fairly limited, I do wonder whether the show’s choice to limit the boundaries of its geography to the ranchers and the strip may prove challenging as they attempt to develop weekly cases within this structure, or whether those boundaries might expand should the show become a success for the network.

Derek Kompare – Southern Methodist University

I had what I thought were reasonable hopes for CBS’ new period crime drama. As much as the network has made a virtue out of playing it safe with investigative formula for the past decade, it also has occasionally attempted something with a bit more heft (e.g., The Good Wife). In addition, at a time in which the venerable network drama itself is said to be endangered, I would hope that somehow one of the old Big Four would try to recapture some of the dramatic esteem long lost to cable. Moreover, in an age of intriguing period dramas, surely this would be a likely candidate to forge new ground. Sadly, Vegas is instead a sure sign that CBS is content to stand pat.

The series merges CBS’ staple crime formula (down to the classic CSI setting of Las Vegas) with another version of a Mad Men-ish Sixties. I say “version” because it’s a transparent knockoff, with some gloss on the obvious elements (e.g., a plausible reconstruction of Fremont Street circa 1960), and very little supporting it. As period drama goes, this is pedestrian stuff, hitting the necessary design bar (why yes, those are indeed late-50s cars), but never going much further. Similarly, the plot is, to a shocking level, boilerplate CBS crime drama. Indeed, if you squint, it could almost be some sort of CSI flashback episode, only with less interesting characters and situations. Perhaps they’re trying to evoke the formulaic TV dramas of 1960 as well? Meanwhile, both Dennis Quaid and Michael Chiklis are workmanlike in their portrayals of the two heavily stereotyped leads, with Quaid as a rancher made reluctant lawman, and Chiklis seemingly channelling a paint-by-numbers but PG-rated Vic Mackey. Again, adequate, but unchallenging.

This is competent, uncomplicated, take-it-as-it-goes stuff, perfect for those who like the look of 1960, and may have heard of Mad Men, but find that show itself too opaque. Similarly, for an audience fed a steady diet of similar crime dramas for the last dozen years, it’s more of the same, only with skinnier ties, cooler cars, and more casual racism and sexism. It’s also a dead giveaway that CBS, despite long being in the best financial situation of all the broadcast networks, has no appetite for innovation (at least this season), and would rather mount a mediocre success than a brilliant failure.

Elementary (Premiered 09/27/2012)

Jonny Lee Miller dons the (figurative) deerstalker cap in this latest, modern reimagining of Sherlock Holmes. As always joined by Dr. Watson, in this case his sober companion Joan Watson (Lucy Liu), Elementary sees Holmes tackling cases for (and against) the NYPD in contemporary Manhattan, drawing inevitable comparisons to the BBC’s Sherlock. [Drew Zolides]

Sean Duncan – Indiana University

Elementary is a surprisingly intriguing adaptation of Sherlock Holmes to a New York setting. After the success of BBC’s Sherlock, many Holmes and Sherlock fans derided this production as a crass cashing-in on the former’s success. Yes, it’s a contemporary Holmes, and yes, Elementary is decidedly an Americanization of Holmes in both style and narrative — it is basically The Mentalist with familiar character names. However, it’s a well-written procedural that is paced reasonably, and acted competently (Miller, Liu, and Aidan Quinn all gave intriguing performances). But, most importantly, Elementary has diverged significantly from the origin story of the Holmes/Watson pairing, revealing that what many assumed to be a fault of the series is perhaps its greatest strength.

Producers of the BBC’s Sherlock have reveled in comparing their work to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s source material, taking the original stories and often wildly reinterpreting them for effect. For instance, Sherlock co-creator Mark Gatiss stated that the “old dark house” setting of the original Hound of the Baskervilles novel required updating to a plausible “modern horror” setting, replacing it with… an animal experimentation facility. The new setting and style of Elementary does this series some favors by geographically freeing Holmes and Watson from the United Kingdom and thus some of the baggage of the Canon.

Unlike the Holmes Canon, in Elementary, Holmes’ addiction issues plausibly recur, Watson’s backstory involves a very different kind of contemporary medical trauma, and the choice of the more obscure Inspector Gregson rather than the well-known Lestrade flags to the Holmes fan that Elementary is less compelled to replicate the plots of original Holmes stories. Where the BBC series has evolved into a spot-the-reference game, viewers of Elementary have to settle for the occasional beekeeping reference. Elementary is not quite an adaptation of the Holmes *Canon*, but an adaptation of the Holmes *relationships*; a choice that allows for new characterizations, an few surprises, and perhaps ultimately a useful distance from the original source material. And that’s probably a good thing, allowing both Sherlock and Elementary to peacefully co-exist at different levels of adaptation.

Kelli Marshall -DePaul University

I haven’t seen Sherlock (BBC), I nearly fell asleep during Sherlock Holmes (Guy Ritchie, 2009), and I haven’t picked up a work of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in more than a decade. What’s more, my most recent lucid interaction with this literary series is The Beekeeper’s Apprentice (1994), a novel that reimagines the older and now-retired Sherlock Holmes as a beekeeper (a nod to the original stories) and his partner-in-crime as a clever, fifteen-year-old girl who “finds women to be the marginally more rational half of the race.” I hope it’s clear, then, that I’m coming to CBS’s Elementary and the Holmes-Watson partnership from an arguably skewed perspective.

What I was expecting from Elementary: I expected a feisty, outgoing Watson who is intellectually on par with a rather controlled, emotionless Holmes. I expected ongoing verbal gymnastics between the lead characters a la Moonlighting‘s Maddie Hayes and David Addison excluding the sexual tension. I expected fluid camera movement to connect Holmes and Watson, symbolizing their equal playing field. I expected low-key lighting, dark alleyways, and one or two Victorian-style staircases. I expected remarkable crime-solving skills. And maybe I expected some bees.

What I got from Elementary: Rather than a plucky Dr. Watson (Lucy Liu), I got an aloof and humorless one (She sets two alarm clocks! She instructs Holmes to “Wait in the car!”). Similarly, rather than a restrained Holmes (Jonny Lee Miller), I got a wild and hyperactive one (He’s into sex games! He crashes cars willy-nilly!). I got a couple of sarcastic/humorless lines from Holmes but little banter between him and Watson (e.g., she’s his “addict-sitter,” “glorified helper-monkey,” and “personal valet”). I got some fluid camerawork but mostly when Holmes is in the frame; rarely does the camera connect the (would-be) partners. While I didn’t get dark alleyways, I did get long corridors and a heavy wooden staircase. And as expected, I got superhuman crime-solving skills, all very reminiscent of House‘s Gregory House (i.e., look at something in the room, spark brain, immediately solve case). And I got bees—but really, on a Manhattan rooftop?

What I was anticipating from the pilot of Elementary and what I was given somewhat conflict. I’d hoped for a livelier Watson—having the character cheer while watching a televised baseball game doesn’t translate to “dynamic,” writers—as well as a lot of repartee and an overall grittier, noirish tone. And maybe these things are coming; it is just the pilot after all. I’ll watch again. At the very least, I’m curious how much honey will ultimately be produced on that rooftop.

Made in Jersey (Premieres 09/28/2012)

This new drama tells the story of Martina Garretti (Janet Montgomery), a young girl from New Jersey with big hair and bring dreams to make it as a lawyer in Manhattan. Her big Italian family in New Jersey is brash, loud, pushes and fond of animal prints, and Martina brings her Jersey style and street smarts with her to New York in this legal procedural. Will she make it on her own in the big city? Or will her WASPy boss (Kyle MacLachlan) fire her for being too outspoken. Hairspray and culture clash ensue. [Eleanor Patterson]

Karen Petruska – Northeastern University

Made in Jersey is not a good show.  You probably already know this because of this review and this review and this review, which calls it the “worst non-CW drama pilot of the season.”  Ouch.  Plus, it is on CBS, and other than The Good Wife, do any of us watch anything on CBS?  (Wait, apologies to Max Dawson, I suppose some scholars watch Survivor).

I watch Hawaii Five-O.  It is an excellent show to watch while eating dinner because it repeats all important information multiple times for those not quite paying attention.  CBS procedurals are very considerate that way. Made in Jersey is a case in point, not only repeating information but also finding all sorts of ways to convey our heroine’s central personality traits–she has a funny accent and she’s has no clue about social graces.  To make sure we know our heroine is spunky, for example, we see her in the first minutes of the show telling off a rude guy on a bike (a guy who wears a bandana, so you know he’s a punk).  She’s also standing next to a young kid of ambiguous ethnic origin, so she’s coded as Other from the get go. Oh, and she knows that pliers are an essential tool for working-class girls to help them zip up their skin-tight jeans. Did I mention that she’s really, really loud as well? Those Jersey girls, always loud and with their big hair and tight clothes, and isn’t she funny yet charming?

What is more frustrating with this particular show is that there is the potential for real drama.  In the days of the 47%, a focus on class could offer genuine insight into contemporary debates about who succeeds and what helps them do it.  Instead we get a portrait of The American Dream as easily realizable since the only barriers to success are familiarity with social codes and etiquette.  Call me cynical, but a program that codes a lovely white woman (the actress is British, to boot) as “Other” not only bores me but is borderline offensive.

Most problematic, the show imbues one character with all the 1% venom, and this character is a woman.  While the white male characters are professional and compassionate towards our heroine Martina, the blonde woman (Stephanie March, in a thankless roll) is threatened by Martina (of course) and she repeatedly insults our young lawyer throughout the episode.  Do we really need one more show that reinforces the most simplistic readings of gender, class, and race?