Don’t judge.
Like most who share my 31 years, I grew up watching ALF. I remember watching reruns after school as a kid. This might explain how I developed my own smart-mouth sarcastic humor (and perhaps, my fondness for cats). As a kid, the show’s draw was it had a puppet. But, as an adult, I get much, much more of the humor and enjoy its brilliant absurdity.
OK, and I still like that it has a puppet.
I watched a favorite episode the other day — where the Tanners throw a Halloween party, and ALF shows up with a zipper taped to his chest to pass off as a guest (“Some Enchanted Evening”).
I’m still laughing about it. Yes, it was a cheesy, simple gag, but I loved it. The visual is hilarious on two levels — the zipper looks totally out of place, and ALF interacting with a room full of adults, instead of just the Tanners, really puts the focus on his shortness.
Ah, sitcoms.
The episode also has one of my favorite comedic reversals. I’m paraphrasing here, but it goes something like this:
Willie: Where did you get that zipper?
ALF: You know that old jacket you’ve been meaning to throw out?
Willie: Yeah.
ALF: Well, you might wanna hang on to it. I ripped this out of your new raincoat.
Ha! Classic.
I don’t care much for sitcoms these days, but I will always watch ALF when I can. Maybe it is the connection to my youth, or maybe it is the humor.
Or maybe, just maybe, I like smart-mouth puppets.
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Daniel J. Hogan writes humor and draws comics for clattertron.com. You can follow him on Twitter, @danieljhogan.
]]>Go On stars Matthew Perry as fancypants L.A. sportscaster, Ryan King, whose wife recently died in a car accident. Not dealing too well with the grieving process (he attacks a famous athlete for texting while driving, the very thing that killed his wife), he’s required to get some sessions in with a group that is likewise working through rough life transitions. Now, the group setting is where the show could slap together a rag-tag crew of oddballs and exploit their instability, or “craziness” for laughs, but Go On doesn’t do this. Instead, it’s the eccentrically loveable ensemble cast that is nicely carrying the show. The episodes are about how lonely it is to be “King,” yes, but it’s also about the group’s many brand’s of loneliness and how they find comfort in community.
The show finely rides the line of the stereotype though — there’s a cat lady, an angry lesbian, an old blind curmudgeon, an over-anxious Asian-American, a Latina woman who speaks mostly in Spanish, and a young African American kid who won’t open up. Beyond the exaggerated play on type (Fausta’s spanglish and references to Ryan as “Oh, Meester King!” for example), the camera clearly catches the depth of each person. Fausta could easily be simple, marginalized, but we see her sharp sense of humor and her pain at the loss of her family. Anne’s “angry lesbian” could be a throwaway schtick, but instead we’re pushed to understand where her anger comes from — her partner died because she didn’t take care of her health, and this to Anne is incredibly stupid and infuriating. Though the characterizations are subject to tokenization, the characters are three dimensional and the show’s early episodes suggest that their backstories will be complex, full, and emotional. Should they keep up the careful storytelling, the diversity of the cast will remain impressive. The support group along with Ryan’s work colleagues are all portrayed with nods toward their social context, but ultimately with dignity and normalcy, and that matters. These are not Asians and black people, weirdos or crazies, they are just people. People in messed up, funny/sad situations trying to make it and anyone could relate.
Sans laughtrack, the show has more freedom to dip into despair, to follow the longing of a well-picked heartbreaking song and then poke out again into Perry’s sarcasm and silliness. I like that instead of painting King as a total bigshot the likes of Joel McHale’s character on Community, Go On presents him as incredibly charming, but given to his foibles. He may not think he needs the support group at first, but he doesn’t ever think he’s better than them. In fact, he has an exuberance for people that is quite endearing. Ryan tends to find a way to make therapy fun and active. Where Lauren, the group’s facilitator, is more well versed in psychological and behavioral theory and the delicate nature of emotions, Ryan is well suited to helping the group laugh, change, face fears, get out of the room and do. These different skill sets play with and against each other well and hint at the kind of issues and relationship concerns that both Lauren and Ryan and the entire group will face this season. And yes, it’s been picked up for a full season.
Go On isn’t blowing my mind or bringing me to tears, or fits of hilarity, but it’s good — really good. It depicts how and why we hurt and explores why it’s so difficult to talk about our pain, our loss, while also reminding us that this process can be full of ridiculous fears and failures, and funny ones to boot. Instead of building types of people–someone who has to overcome A, someone with issues with B — the program reveals unique personalities, ones that I want to continue getting to know. For a brand new, non-cable show, Go On’s come out of the gate strong and it’s invitation is tempting. I’m listening and watching… “Go on…”
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Ana Holguin writes PopHeart for The Idler.
]]>Like Two Broke Girls, I had high hopes for this one. Whitney Cummings is a solid, risk-taking, wise-cracking comedian. I like her for how far she’s willing to push a joke, not for how high the network can hike her mini skirt. However, NBC seems to value the latter more than the former. Honestly, I think the situations and dialogue vary from somewhat okayish to beneath her. Cummings is a sharp-tongued, foul-mouthed woman — this show finds lots of “funny” ways to stick her in a skimpy outfit. Barf. What a waste.
Rating*: one kinda stinky dachshund butt
Free Agents (NBC, Cancelled)
I liked this show. It wasn’t immediately attention-grabbing, no, but its understatedness had style. I suppose I liked the glum but realistic depression/mid-life crisis drama undergirding the sarcastic “dating-at-40-sucks” jokes. Seeing Hank Azaria try his hand at playing a normal dude and not some over-the-top caricature or actual cartoon was pretty nice, in my humble opinion. Kathryn Hahn and Natasha Legerro held their own for the weird but capable lady side of the show, and it was cool to see Al Madrigal play a smart quirky Chicano character — not many of those portrayals on the television tubes these days. The talents of Anthony Head (Rupert Gilles of Buffy fame) were severely underused (um, why was he there again?), but it really seemed like the program was going to find itself with a little time.
Rating: one grumpy dachshund and a (cute) half
American Horror Story (F/X, Thursdays)
So this show kind of crept up on me. I wasn’t anxiously awaiting the premiere or anything — I just ended up watching the pilot because I was up, The Daily Show was a re-run and AHS was on its second airing. Is it cheesy? Um, a little, but cheesy like a psychological thriller/horror movie where a house’s paranormal energy is freaking toying with the weaknesses of everyone who inhabits it. And, hello, I like that stuff! The story involves a cheating therapist, his cuckolded wife, family crises, weird sex, creepy neighbors and all kinds of house haunting ghosteses. I’m intrigued to see how long a horror story can keep me hooked and more importantly, keep me scared.
Rating: 2.5 murderous dachshunds suffering from Oedipal regression
What you should tell me about:
The Ringer. Sarah Michelle Gellars, plural?! Double Buffies?! I gots to know about this show! How is it? What about the ABC show with all the stewardesses? What about that? Fill me in, Idlin’ folk.
*Rating system: 3 Dachshunds is the highest score suggesting subjective Ana-related watchability for these 2nd-string Fall programs. This rating system may not mean anything to the common viewer at all.
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Ana Holguin writes PopHeart for The Idler.
]]>Okay, so this is a show I didn’t expect to like. Zooey Deschanel is always so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with her twee little singing voice and her goody-goody cotton outfits and her healthy eating habits and her Death Cab for Cutie husband. Bah! I half expect pink bunnies to pop out of her perfectly coiffed hairdo at any given moment. Fittingly, she often plays characters that seem surprised if not completely unaware that they’re gorgeous and charming and wonderful and this “oops, you like ME, an already classically attractive woman, even though I like indie bands and nerd games and have doe eyes?!” charade leaves me with a case of the grumps. So much “accidental” perfection rubs me (the perennially coffee-stained and mustachioed old girl) the wrong way. More of the same is what I expected from her role as Jess in The New Girl, but this time I was wrong-ish.
Rather than a syrup-soaked sitcom, The New Girl actually plays out as pretty quirky off-brand fun. At times it remains schlockily familiar in its premise and execution, but for the most part I find myself really loving Deschanel as Jess — and this is the last thing I thought would happen. On the show, Jess catches her longtime boyfriend cheating and thus must move out and find a new living situation. She meets up with three dudes she found on Craigslist who ultimately keep her due to her friendships with female models. With each episode thus far we see the group forming a unit and letting all of Jess’s freak-flag-flying weirdness open up the too-cool-for-school man squad to new experiences and better self understanding. Yeah, all of that business is pretty saccharine, I suppose, but once more it’s Jess that I’m enjoying here.
With this sitcom set-up, you might expect Jess to need tons of help in the boyfriend department but this is not the case. From episode one, we know that she’s held her own in a serious relationship and when taken to the bar she’s quite capable of picking up dudebros for casual makeouts. One might also expect the magical transformation crap storyline that includes removing the glasses and applying proper makeup to turn the nerd into the glamour girl. Admittedly, this card does get played a little, but the cool part is that Jess remains herself no matter what she’s wearing or in what situation she’s placed. When pushed into a chic dress to attend a wedding she constantly points out how she has to wear little girls’ bike shorts as makeshift Spanx to look appropriate. Of course, the ridiculous shorties, and later her stupid chicken-dancing, go on to completely undermine her look of perfection. Add in her totes realistic and dorky dialogue and her penchant for turning any random activity or event into song and you might as well be listening in on any of the kick-ass women I know and call friends.
Is the show perfect? No. There’s definitely material with which to quibble. However, if I were to make a joke here about “The Trouble With Quibbles,” new girl Jess would totally snort-laugh at it. I respect that. And come on, as Zooey has taught us before, sometimes pithy perfection can be more than a little annoying.
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Ana Holguin writes PopHeart for The Idler.
]]>Since I watch all the television so you don’t have to, here are my thoughts on what I’ll be watching, skipping and giving a chance on the tube.
Installment, The First: Two Broke Girls (CBS, Mondays)
Kat Dennings (Thor, Charlie Bartlett, Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist) is a hip, hottie intellectual who tends to possess the perfect amount of sass in her filmic character portrayals. Her tweets on the Twitter-box are strange, deadpan, hilarious. She’s the kind of gal I’d like to hang out with if I ever felt like leaving grad school to befriend the up-and-comers of young Hollywood. So, seeing that my fair Kat-lady stars as one of the broke gals, I knew I’d be flipping on the first episode. On top of this, Whitney Cummings, a pretty solid and edgily crass comedian is one of the show’s creators. What could go wrong?
Well, a lot. The writers try to capture all that is urban and gritty in NYC by following the lives of the title “broke girls” in their struggle as waitresses. Max, the street-smart already poor girl (played by Dennings) reluctantly befriends and be-roommates the once conspicuously wealthy Caroline (Beth Behrs) and of course kooky adventures will ensue. The dialogue, peppered with references to Arcade Fire shows, hipster trends, feminist politics, and sexual appreciation, all says, “yes, we are the television women of 2011!” However, said modern talk is weirdly hampered by the old school construction of the situation comedy and its clunky trappings.
With laugh track in tow, the program becomes warily self conscious of its humor and we all know it’s a little strange to not laugh while the episode celebrates every punchline. In one subway scene, our richie rich uptown girl nearly attacks Max with pepper spray. Caroline quickly apologizes for her extreme response with the explanation that she thought she was being raped. Max waits a beat and then points out, “that’s not what rape feels like!” hahahahaha!
Wait, slow down, canned laughter. That’s not very funny. I felt kind of icky about it actually.
In my book, you need to have some serious comedy chops to make a rape joke work — and this one is being thrown about pretty emptily and with little to no payoff.
Still, I’m a big believer that a show can’t be judged by its pilot, or even its first season sometimes. Programs need time to get grounded, find their voice, develop their favorite quirks and it’s rare that a show immediately hits the ground running. So, even with the rape jokes, the awkward racial/ethnic fringe characters that dress the setting — seedy poor New York, remember? — I thought, well, this is just the first episode.
And then they added a horse.
Like, the rich girl brought her fancy horse to live just outside their tiny apartment. In Brooklyn.
Sigh.
I’m going to continue watching, but Two Broke Girls has fallen down on my list of must-sees and on to the DVR for lazy Saturdays list. I’ll keep you posted, friends.
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Ana Holguin writes PopHeart for The Idler.
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