"HEEEEEEEEERE'S ...um...who?"

I don't watch any of the NBC Latenight Boys, preferring Letterman if I am in the mood for such things. But I have to join in the chorus of those proffering their respect for Conan O'Brien's announcement to the Earthlings the other day. It was heartfelt, a bit self-deprecating, and well-received by just about everybody. Well, except the hacks at NBC.

What a mess Jeff Zucker (right) created when he replaced five primetime hours of scripted programing with a talk show. It will remain one of the lousiest decisions in the history of television. That guy from the affiliate in Boston was right months ago. Remember him? When this half-assed decision was announced last spring, Boston station owner Ed Ansin announced his plans to decline Leno's show and move his own local news program into the 10 PM hour instead. He requested that his station be allowed to delay the Leno show until 11 PM, a request which was vehemently rejected by NBC. The network was so incensed (and so frightened that the move in Boston, the 7th largest viewing area in the country, would encourage other stations to follow suit), they warned Ansin that if he preempted Leno, they would strip his station of the NBC affiliation completely, and turn their local Telemundo station into the Boston NBC affiliate. Ansin backed down, and, well, we now know what a crummy idea putting Leno on at 10 PM has turned out to be. (I knew it all along, but nobody asked me.)

But back to Conan. He's now decided he will not continue with The Tonight Show if it moves to the post-midnight slot; he feels strongly that the franchise cannot survive that late in the evening. Leno, meanwhile, seems agreeable to return to the 11:35 slot with a half-hour show, whether it's called The Tonight Show or not.

There are several aspects of this issue which interest me. A talk show seems to be the most "personality driven" of all television programs. The host's personality dominates just about every creative decision made for these shows, so it must be particularly devastating to be jerked around like these NBC guys. The host position carries so much weight that his show is always referred to by the host's name, regardless of the actual title of the program. Do you tune into The Late Show? No, you watch Letterman. Even The Tonight Show, the most recognizable name-brand in the evening talk show arena, is almost always referred to by its host. Did you watch The Tonight Show during its heyday? No, you stayed up to see who was on Carson. These days, it's Conan and Leno, Kimmel and Fallon; I would have to stop writing, and google these guys to get the actual names of the programs they host.

What am I getting at? I understand completely the sense of betrayal Conan in particular is feeling, which must be frustrating as he is still, technically, employed by The Tonight Show. If the network decides to change timeslots for its show, I'm not sure he has much to say in the matter.

Primetime stars, no matter how powerful, have very little, if any, influence on where their shows are placed on the schedule. I'm thinking now of three huge sitcom stars of past years: Seinfeld, Roseanne, and Cosby. All three headlined programs which weren't just smash hits, but were actual cultural touchstones for their eras. They may have partially owned their shows, but none of them had any input on where their programs would be placed on the network schedule.


Oprah, arguably the most powerful woman in television, owns her show, and is not tied to a particular network, but other than insuring she is never in competition with Dr. Phil (which she produces), even she cannot dictate exactly where her program is placed on the schedule.

Conan can't either. I'm not suggesting he roll over and play dead for the network nitwits who are scrambling to rectify a mistake which never should have been made in the first place; if I were in his position, I would probably give NBC the well-deserved finger, and bolt. From what I understand of his contract, the network is within its rights to move The Tonight Show to 12:05 and expect Conan to remain with the program, but everyone will be surprised if he does so. NBC cannot force him to continue with the show, they can only prevent his working elsewhere for a time. I read somewhere that neither the network nor Conan are looking for a legal battle over this debacle.

In my opinion, the villain here is NBC honcho Jeff Zucker, who created this fiasco. He should be sacked, but first he should be sent back to Boston, so station manager Ed Ansin can tell him I Told You So.

TV Droppings: thirtysomething, twentysomething years later

I'm currently slogging my way through season one of thirtysomething, which was released on DVD a few months ago. Well, maybe "slogging" is too tough a word, but I have to admit, I can watch only one episode at a time. This surprises me, as I remember the show very fondly, and have been awaiting its release with some eagerness.

This show is no Mad Men, which can be ripped through in a single weekend (I have written about that show before), and it is certainly no Slings and Arrows, which can be devoured in a single sitting. With thirtysomething, I'm not all that anxious to discover what happens next. The show was appointment television for me during its initial run, and now I am wondering if that was due to the fact that I was myself "thirtysomething" at the time. It was a bit of a groundbreaker, as it was a family drama without the family; it centered around 7 youngish adults who, in essence, became each other's family. Perhaps that was the aspect of the series which appealed to me the most, as I have done exactly that (choose my own family) throughout my life.

I'm having trouble finding any other reasons I was so enamored of the show. I certainly did not see myself in any of the core characters; my recollection is that it would be well into the show's run that David Marshall Grant would show up, as shy, offbeat artist Russell, who happens to be gay. More on him anon.

First seasons of shows are often the least cohesive, and thirtysomething is no exception. Though the performances are as I remember them, the writing has an archness which is not attractive to me today. I see now why, during its run, it was so often criticized as being "whiny," as the characters seem to be experts at making mundane problems life-threatening. The leading lady, Hope (Mel Harris), is almost unbearable in these episodes, as she complains about just about everything. When her mother (played by the spectacular Shirley Knight) comes to visit, and does nothing but attempt to help her daughter, she spins out of control.

I admit one of my favorite episodes of the whole series was one of these early ones, in which Hope and Michael attempt to have their first date night since their baby was born; cabaret artist Michael Feinstein provided the musical motif for this episode, which creatively used two actors (Lucy Webb and Timothy Stack) to portray a series of characters who spoil the evening. This was also the first appearance of therapist Dr. Nestle, played by Earl Boen in a recurring role, who shows up in a fantasy sequence dreamed up by Melanie Mayron's Melissa.

Those fantasy sequences were pretty unique back then, and provided the thirtysomething writers with some fun playthings. The Thanksgiving episode, for example, included a fine sequence when photo proofs of the gang came to life and commented on the action. I'm also enjoying the work of actor Terry Kinney, who has a recurring arc as the boss and boyfriend of career girl Ellyn (Polly Draper). I remember loving his work back then, and it was after his character was gone before I learned he was one of the Steppenwolf gang (I have been surprised that he did not achieve the fame his cohorts John Malkovich, Gary Sinise, and Laurie Metcalf did...I hope he's not bitter).

Well, I'm barely through the first half of the first season, and I know things will pick up. The show never really took off in the ratings, but became one of the first shows to survive due to its demographics, rather than its overall viewership. In future seasons, there will be some dark turns, including a nasty divorce, and a long story arc concerning breast cancer (from personal experience I can report that it is handled realistically). Those storylines will be anchored by Patricia Wettig as Nancy; she was the most Emmy'd of the cast, winning awards for her work three of the four years the series ran. When Michael and Elliot (Ken Olin and Timothy Busfield) abandon their own ad agency and sign on with a larger firm, we will meet one of the most memorable characters of the series, Miles Drentell (David Clennon), who makes Don Draper look like a pussycat.

The future will also include the single most controversial episode of the series. It may be the single most controversial episode of any series of the 1980s. It was in season three that David Marshall Grant's character, Russell, hooked up with Peter, played by Peter Frechette. They have a "morning after" scene in bed, which was apparently a television first. I remember the scene distinctly: the two guys are sitting up, side by side, not touching, barely even looking at each other. It was that awkward "where do we go from here" moment, one we have seen thousands of times played by straight couples. But because it was two men, the world exploded. Boycotts were threatened, and sponsors yanked commercials. ABC lost over a million dollars by broadcasting the episode, so it's little wonder they declined to rerun it, for fear of further controversy.

All that fun is in the future, though. For now, I will slowly make my way through season one of thirtysomething, and appreciate the fact that the show created a whole new word to describe people of a certain age.

TV Droppings: An embarrassing secret

Ever hear of a television series called Sports Night? Not me. I don't think I was ever aware of the thing during its very short run. Why the hell would I watch something called Sports Night?

Somehow, I have now stumbled upon it, and am loving it. The two season series from a decade ago is now available on DVD, and all six discs are at the top of my Netflix Queue. At the time, Robert Guillaume was the biggest star involved, but since then, Peter Krause went on to Six Feet Under, Joshua Malina went on to The West Wing, and the fabulous Felicity Huffman went on to Desperate Housewives. Oh, and the creator and head honcho of the series was Aaron Sorkin.

Yes, I'm reserving the top spots at Netflix, the rental company devoted to movies, for a TV program. Of course, I never saw Sports Night in its initial run, so I can be forgiven, right? But here's a dirty little secret: I also waste time watching episodes of television shows which I already saw. St. Elsewhere and Hill Street Blues clutter up my queue, as I wait impatiently for LA Law, thirtysomething, and the third season of Family to be released on DVD.

Hey, if you think that's strange, get a load of this. I'm also slogging my way through the entire run of...hold on. You're really going to think I'm a loser with this one. Don't tell anybody, but I'm watching, episode by episode, all four years of this little-known series:

I wonder if I have too much time on my hands...

TV Droppings: Mad about the "Men"

When Mad Men debuted over a year ago on American Movie Classics, the buzz was largely over its authentic atmosphere, and the fact that it was AMC's first scripted original series. I missed its first run, but when it was rerun a few months later, I caught up with it. I can't say I fell in love, but it did become interesting enough to me that I watched its first season of 13 episodes (that used to be called a miniseries, but in Cableland, it's a full season).






Mad Men definitely benefits from a second viewing, as I found out this week. Season 2 has begun, but before I leaped into the new episodes, I took the time to check out Season 1 again. Do you think I have too much time on my hands?

Via my cable company's On Demand channel, I ordered up episode 1 of Season 1, and became certifiably hooked. Two episodes a day, and I've completed the entire first season, much of which I did not recall from last year's viewing, and I'm well into the new season as well.




Mad Men is this year's critical darling, sweeping the Emmy nominations and making some history for cable programs. While last year, I enjoyed the detailed attention paid to the mis-en-scene of the series (1960 Manhattan), this time I caught much more of the subtleties going on in this story of Madison Avenue ad men and their lives.






Ad agency Sterling-Cooper is no McMann & Tate. The guys booze it up at all hours, Bloody Marys are served at morning client meetings, and each and every character lights up a cigarette in each and every scene.

The atmosphere created by the series is so evocative, I found myself watching most of the episodes with a Virgin Mary (with salt!) at my side. You just have to.




The show is a definite ensemble piece, but it does have a leading man in Don Draper, played by Jon Hamm, a flawed mid-level executive with real personality issues. I can't recall a more unheroic leading man in a series: he cheats on his wife with a bohemian artist, then cheats on her with a wealthy client. He lies about his past, his present, and even his name. He's a coward, an army deserter, and turns his back on the little brother who finds him, causing his suicide. What a guy!




...if a guy looks that good in a tux, we'll forgive him almost anything...




A young actress with the unlikely name of January Jones is playing our hero's dutiful wife, with a coolness so chilly you need a sweater to watch. Really, this is one of those performances that took me many episodes to appreciate. For a long while, I thought this actress simply wasn't doing anything. But as such things often do, she crept up on me, and when her breakout scene arrived at least two thirds through the first season (shooting her neighbor's pet pigeons with a BB gun), I bought it. This is a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She's nuts.










You've never heard of most of this show's cast, though one or two faces will be familiar. The series's female lead (at least, she's getting top billing over the other women in the opening credits), is Elizabeth Moss, who spent some time playing the president's daughter in The West Wing. Here is another actress that took several episodes to warm up. For a while, I thought her interpretation of the mousy secretary was pretty one-note, but as the season progressed, she started to shine, just as her career took an unexpected path (and her ethics, a downward turn).


As almost always happens with me, I found myself attracted more to the supporting characters than to the leads. I suppose that stems from the fact that I am usually more comfortable playing supporting roles myself. At any rate, there are two real standouts in this large cast, and they dominate every scene in which they appear.

John Slattery is one of the strongest character men currently working in Hollywood, and he's had a pretty impressive year. He played one of the Desperate Housewives's husbands for a season, but was written off when his character was skewered by a flying picket fence during a tornado. Gotta love the realism on that show, right? But Slattery's tour de force performance of the year was on Mad Men. His portrayal of Roger Sterling is a subtle triumph; with only a flick of his cigarette ash, he creates a fascinating study of the hard-living, hard-drinking, womanizing head honcho, the boss everyone loves to hate. And hates to love. His chemistry with series star Jon Hamm is fraught with tension and palpable, conflicting emotions. Their surface camaraderie masks a wary suspicion, clearly evidenced in the episode in which Sterling, tipsily lowering his guard, flirted with Draper's wife. With cool, treacherous resolve, our hero manipulated a shattering humiliation for his boss; it was season 1's finest episode. And the most ewww inducing...




Slattery is up for an Emmy, and should win. And not just for that scene with the, um, reappearing oysters.

For my money, the standout performance in the series is being given by Christina Hendricks as office manager Joan Holloway. Dressed to accentuate the curves which were regarded as highly attractive in those years before Twiggy, she sails through the secretarial pool like a luxurious yacht. Her purr is both seductive and predatory, yet reveals a soft soul. It's a beautiful, painful portrait of the working girl of the era.

Other supporting actors of Mad Men have their moments, particularly Vincent Kartheiser as squirrelly Pete Campbell, and Broadway vet Bryan Batt as closeted art director Sal Romano. Here's a picture of the two actors at last year's wrap party, obviously heady with the success of their show:

The creators of Mad Men have afforded us theatrical types a private joke in the casting of Robert Morse as Bert Cooper, the senior partner of the ad agency. Morse's career was launched (and arguably, peaked) when he played the young corporate climber in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying in the early 60s, the exact period in which Mad Men is set. 45 years later, he's returned to the era to play the elder executive; it feels like a sly wink and a nod to those of us who are aware of this actor's history.

The second season of this remarkable series is off to a good start, ratings-wise, and its record-breaking number of Emmy nominations (more than any other drama this year, unique for a basic cable series) is already adding more buzz. I often avoid shows with that kind of buzz (I didn't catch up with The Sopranos until season 3), but I hope all the hype means we'll be watching the Mad Men of Sterling Cooper for some time to come. Shake up a martini and join the fun!