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At first, Wednesday night failed us. Perpetuating its claim as "The Long Title Network," Fox offered up Busted On The Job: Caught On Tape, a severely unfunny show featuring security-camera clips consisting of people falling off ladders. ABC tried The Senior Prom, a confusing, mind-numbing documentary about several proms, including non-actor kids reenacting the moments when they asked out their dates. Imagine Beavis in a tux: "So, um, like, you, uh, wanna go?" Riveting. |
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But never fear when Aaron Spelling is near. We all owe Spelling a severe debt of gratitude. Without him, what would we complain about? Everything is his fault. The current tawdry state of television. The peculiar fetish with which we tube-watch: creating look-don't-touch icons of fake-breasted, too-tan waifs. The extra-marital bed-hopping we expect of a good drama and---if divorce statistics are any indication---we also learn to expect from our lives. It's all Spelling. He set the precedent by producing Charlie's Angels, Love Boat, Dynasty, Beverly Hills 90210 and the current trash-king, Melrose Place. And he maintains it with new stock, such as last night's unerring sleaze-fest, Pacific Palisades. |
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How can a show so cookie-cutter, so lazy, so cynical as this one still stir viewer passions? You can see Spelling's greasy little monkey-paws all over this schlock: nearly every actor is carefully culled from daytime soaps, nearly every line of dialogue is charged with generic, often-violent-sounding sex. "Oh," fans will argue, "don't be so serious. It's supposed to be fun." We're sorry, but if your idea of fun includes:
it's time to contemplate either therapy or euthanasia. Note to Spelling's writer-slaves: go drink some Starbucks coffee, eat some potato skins at Chili's and buy a Microsoft product, and leave the creativity to people with fully developed frontal lobes. K? |
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