Girl Detective

For my husband it’s football season. For me, it begins with Entertainment Weekly’s Fall TV Preview. Since I’m a subscriber this year, it was delivered to my home, and I didn’t have to spend fruitless weeks scanning the shelves at Target, and harassing the booksellers at Barnes and Noble to see when it hit the stand.

This year, though, I’ve let a lot more TV-critic cooks in the kitchen of my what-to-watch debate. I started out with a long list. I pared it down to a short list. I think I’ve rebounded back up to a long list, though perhaps a slightly different one.

Aiding and abetting me in my Fall TV nerdish obsessing:

The girls at Everybody Loves Saturday Night

The vidiots at TeeVee

Maureen Ryan’s The Watcher at The Chicago Tribune

The new Variety television blog Season Pass, especially its geek-tastic critic’s pick chart

Returning shows I’m going to watch:

How I Met Your Mother (I picked this up in summer reruns; it’s hilarious)
Heroes
Bones
House
My Name is Earl
The Office
30 Rock (also started watching this summer; it’s also hilarious)
Friday Night Lights (can’t fight the acclaim any longer; I’ll start watching this fall)

After much rumination, I think I’m going to audition these new shows for my roster:

Monday, I’ll have to choose among The Big Bang Theory, Chuck, and Aliens in America, since my Tivo can only record two shows at once. (Oh, hardship.)

Tuesday has The Reaper.

Wednesday, I am geekily excited for Bionic Woman; Jaime Summers was one of my first childhood heroines. Even though reviews have been mixed, I’m hoping for a Battlestar Galactic-like reboot. Pushing Daisies is also getting mixed reviews, but sounds so divisive I’m wondering which end I’d fall on. And Peter Krause in Dirty Sexy Money seems like a no brainer.

Thursday I might check out Big Shots, because Veronica Mars creator Rob Thomas was brought on as a producer.

And Friday’s Women’s Murder Club might have potential.

The moment of truth: if I watch all these shows every week, my total weekly TV consumption will be, drumroll please….

Fourteen. Ack. An average of two hours per night. Forget it. I need to read, too. If only I can restrain myself, and leave others to uncover the trash and treasures, I may still make my book challenge by the end of the year.

So far this year, I’ve had the dubious honor of helping to boot off the show an extremely likeable, open-hearted orphan with a lilting Southern accent, and now, last night, I got to be part of the hunting party who smashed the hopes and dreams of a cancer survivor. Short of biting the heads off kittens while dressed up as a storm trooper, I don’t think I could look any less sympathetic.

Anthony Bourdain continues to win my affection with funny, incisive commentary both on Top Chef and on his blog.

“Snacks on a Plane” Heh, heh. GREAT title, I thought. The chefs were awakened by Padma, who got in bed and tussled with Casey, but was more prim in the boys room. What IS with Brian and that hat he wears to sleep in? CJ, though, seemed quite happy to see Padma, and continued his flirtatious banter. They were challenged to make her breakfast, and it sounded like everyone did a good job, though Brian got dinged for blackberry seeds in the smoothie. Spazzy Hung broke a bottle of oil so there was glass and oil on the floor, then he denied it; badly done, but he pulled out the win anyway by adding Grand Marnier to his smoothie and making a simple but exquisite steak and eggs. They then received plane tickets to Newark NJ. Upon arrival they were told their next challenge would be about plane food. The next day, they were tasked with creating a dish for first-class passengers. They had a tough time in an unfamiliar kitchen. CJ faltered badly with the timing of his dish, and early finisher Hung looked selfish for not volunteering to help him catch up, though other chefs did, as they’ve picked up that working with each other rather than for themselves succeeds all around.

This episode spawned some of the nastiest comments I’ve heard.

On Sara’s salmon: “So overcooked it’s like catfood! (Bourdain) Also, “It’s not an afterthought, it’s a fourth or fifth thought.”
On Brian’s hash: “It was disgusting,” stated flatly by Colicchio
And the death knell: “The worst dish we’ve had in three seasons” by Colicchio about CJ’s broccolini.

Padma looked down and then up with tears in her eyes (?!) before telling CJ to pack his knives.

For the second week, Casey took top spot, and earned a sweet prize. I have to take back what I wrote about her not making it to the end. What I’m now enjoying about Top Chef is that it is so variable. Great chefs can make terrible decisions, or even just bad choices, that spiral out of control. I have no idea which of the final five are going to be the final three, but I really enjoyed seeing the camaraderie and support of all the chefs but Hung, who seems to be the only cut-throat thinking contender left.

Maureen Ryan at the Chicago Tribune reports that the actors are saying that season four will be the final one, and it will be shown in two 10-episode blocks, one starting February 2008, the other February of 2009.

What does this mean? That they have twenty more episodes to bring closure to one of the biggest, most complex dramatic series on television, and that we faithful will have to wait TWENTY MONTHS to see if they can pull it off.

TWENTY MONTHS! That’s time enough to have two babies.

Can we all just acknowledge that Tim Gunn and Bravo are throwing Project Runway fans a bone so they can delay the next season, and try to double dip on viewers?

TGGtS is not a bad show. But it’s just another makeover show, elevated by Gunn’s tart humor, exacting taste, and impressive cadre of “friends”. I really liked his recoil when co-star Veronica Webb mentioned leggings. She was clearly more than set decoration; her opinions were strong, and both Tim and the make-over-ee respected them. The first contestant was clearly going to be a slam dunk. She was gorgeous and in good shape, she just didn’t know it or dress for it. The show’s product placements and name dropping felt obstrusive, especially the diamond ring.

Two Project Runway contestants were introduced. Chris has flamboyant clothes and charisma, but seems like he’s aping Jay McCarroll too deliberately. Jillian is cocky, but has no on-screen personality.

This entry feels about as disjointed as the episode did, though I won’t try to push your buttons and make you cry. You’re welcome.

Last week’s Top Chef episode 7, Guilty Pleasures, featured a bait-and-switch strategy. The chefs were told they were going out, and got dressed up. Once at the club, though, they were pressed into catering to the closing hour munchies of the other patrons. Some of them rolled with this better than others. Sara was asked to pack her knives, because she was slow to produce an underseasoned burger and terrible milkshake. Interestingly, though Howie’s sandwich was also reviled, and their team was taken to task for communication problems, he was not given the boot. The week before, Joey got sent packing because he wouldn’t listen to Hung. But this week, Howie didn’t get sent packing, even though he didn’t talk to Sara.

Episode 8, Restaurant Wars, was itself a bait-and-switch. Everyone is warned that competition is more fierce because the winner of the quickfire no longer gets immunity. CJ squanders his advantage by picking a weak team. What was with Casey’s pissed look as Brian and she joined the team? Not only was it clear to me that it’s Casey who’s going to get the boot (she’s the one who looks like she’s on the verge of tears in the studio interviews) but both teams did such a bad job of the impossible task of opening a restaurant that they got a mulligan, so it’s to be continued, and we won’t find out for sure till next week who is eliminated. To add insult to injury, the judges didn’t critique the chefs much. Instead, Padma read aloud from a blogger’s comments, and used her criticisms instead of the judges table. Oh, yes, great idea to have a guest judge of Daniel Boulud, then hand all the judgment to a blogger? Feh.

I think there were plenty of candidates for booting: Brian fell apart up front, Dale’s decor was awful, Tre had inedible potatoes, and Howie had bad and heavy risotto. Why not just send Howie home instead of drawing out the misery for another week?

or how Entertainment Weekly lured me to the dark side. It’s summer and my normal TV shows are in reruns (House, Bones, The Office, My Name is Earl, Battlestar Galactica) or worse, cancelled (RIP Veronica Mars). Because I have so much free time for myself (ha!) I let myself be swayed by good reviews in Entertainment Weekly to check out some new shows, which I did in one big TV free-for-all last weekend. Without exception, I was disappointed.

Mad Men: Nice to look at, but there’s a reason we moved beyond the era of smoking and sexism. There are better ways to depict this age that feel modern. This just felt like an out and out mimic, though I was surprised by the ending of the pilot.

Burn Notice: Average, at best. Cheesy repeated camera shots. The lead actor didn’t engage me, Gabrielle Anwar’s collagen duck lip irritated me, and Bruce Campbell looked so overweight, tired and indifferent that I just felt bad for him.

Psych: Enjoyable enough, but leaving nothing afterward. Like cotton candy.

Simon Schama’s Power of Art: I’d prefer it if this show were a half hour long and reporter style, rather than having staged enactments of Schama interacting with the art, and recreations of the artist. I like the works of Rothko, and was interested to find out more, but couldn’t bring myself to stay with this show for more than half an hour.

There is good news, though. Reruns of both 30 Rock and How I Met Your Mother are funny, clever, and easy on the schedule at 30 minutes minus commercials. If you haven’t already, check them out.

“Freezer Burn” Ten chefs remain, Rocco DiSpirito (looking suspiciously unlined in the face) was the guest judge for a cooking bee. Howie was right that there was too big a variation in difficulty. Who can’t identify bow-tie pasta by sight? Casey won immunity, and the chefs were sorted into pairs and challenged to create a quick-cooking frozen pasta meal. Hung smugly figured out how to do it, but didn’t have enough backbone to browbeat Joey (I know I’m mixing bodily metaphors) as J. later said needed to be done. Dale and Casey were cute and bubbly together, but it was clean that Tre and C. J. were going to win the challenge, as they were the only ones who paid attention and followed through on individually freezing the components. I was annoyed by Tom Colicchio’s challenge that truffles weren’t Mediterranean; no, then what are tartufo, chef? If even _I_ know the Italian word for it, then I think it’s fairly well known. The Sara and Howie pairing was a disaster. Neither communicated, and both swallowed their anger, though Howie exploded, as per his usual, when pushed too far. I was glad to see Colicchio not letting Sara off the hook for not participating. In the end, Joey went home. He and Hung had the worst dish (they sold none, as opposed to Howie and Sara’s 3), and Joey’s admission of his hard-headedness and inability to listen was honest, and probably sealed his fate. I was sorry to see him go. I thought Sara’s behavior much worse, and I like how pugnacious Howie and Joey are.

This show was one of the few I’ve seen that has practical application in my kitchen. I’ve frozen many a pasta dish, then struggled to swallow the goopy, mushy dish when it thaws. Par cooking the pasta, then freezing the sauce separately in little cubes is a simple and effective way to create a frozen dinner that can be prepared in minutes using only the stovetop, a boon in hot weather.

It had some inane moniker, but really, it was just a clip show. It was nice to see Tim Gunn again, and some of the clips from seasons 1 and 2 made me want to watch them, but again, this was just a clip show.

Of the season three eliminations, Cliff is unsophisticated, but aw-shucks sweet and sincere. Sandee should have gotten a clue by now that poached didn’t equal barbecue. Camille’s strength does not lie in verbal communication. Micah was off-putting, as evidenced by her flip announcement that she’s African-American. The only elimination I regret is Lia’s. She looked calm and composed, and had only nice, balanced things to say.

Episode 4: Cooking by Numbers. Casey won the quickfire of what to pair with a Bombay cocktail (reminding me that I’m interested in What to Drink with What You Eat), and then promptly abused the privilege when she was put with Howie and Joey on a team. She got all bossy boots during the planning, didn’t encourage their ideas since she was immune, and then made the crappiest dish of all the chefs. If Howie or Joey had been eliminated, she would have had much to answer for.

Good for that team, then, that the dessert course was truly dreadful. Dale’s ideas–dessert and a pineapple theme–failed spectacularly. He admitted to feeling guilty about Camille’s elimination, but I thought she dug her own hole. She readily agreed to Dale’s idea of dessert, and claimed to know something about pastry, though her very basic idea of upside-down cake looked dreadful. She was inarticulate in response to the judges’ queries, and I thought she deserved to pack her knives.

Episode 5: Latin Lunch. When the cooks are given frozen pie crust for the quickfire challenge, Joey admits he knows a little about pastry, which he didn’t cop to on last week’s ep. I was bothered by the fact that he later lied outright to the guest judge and said he didn’t know pastry. In any case, he won the quickfire challenge, and immunity, and went on to almost win the elimination challenge, but graciously gave kudos to his new best bud Howie. I suspected that either Lia or Casey would be eliminated because of the clip shown early on where they commented how close they’d become, and how they had each others’ backs. Casey’s dish sounded quite bad–dry chicken, overcooked rice, and a bitter, unpleasant sauce. But Lia’s polenta was deemed worse, perhaps because it was both ill-prepared and not very Latin, so she was asked to pack her knives. I would have preferred to see Casey sent packing, since she abused her immunity the week before while Lia won. But that might just be mean-spirited me; I dislike Casey’s overly coiffed, made-up, and accessorized presence. I also suspect Hung is going to go sooner than later. Not only is he a spaz in the kitchen, but his self-awareness is pretty dim.

P.S. Padma Lakshmi has requested a divorce from Salman Rushdie. Quel surprise.

According to Austenblog, in January 2008, PBS will be airing new versions of Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park, Persuasion, Northanger Abbey, and Sense and Sensibility along with the Kate Beckinsale Emma and the Colin Firth Pride and Prejudice. The new adaptations were shown previously on ITV in England, to mixed reviews. Does any Austen adaptation NOT get mixed reviews?

Like Lauren at television blog Everybody Loves Saturday Night, I’m very much missing Bravo’s Project Runway, but Top Chef is ably filling my guilty pleasure of reality television. Like PR, TC has a room full of artists who are given escalatingly inventive challenges each week. They face time and budget constraints. In the end their creations are judged by a panel that includes chef Tom Colicchio, Padma Lakshmi (married to Salman Rushdie, and who flaunts a long scar on her right arm that she got from an auto accident), Gail Simmons of Food & Wine magazine, and a guest judge, most often Ted Allen, formerly of Queer Eye. The TC judges panel is nowhere near as snarky as that of PR, but there’s still lots of criticism that might not be entirely constructive.

The first two shows’ eliminations weren’t suprising. Both Clay and Sandee were much less experienced than other chefs in the competition. While Tre seems to be an early favorite (not unlike Michael Knight of PR3), I think Hung might be the chef to beat.

What engages me about both shows is how creativity and performance can either bloom or wilt under pressure. I couldn’t do what they do, but I enjoy watching what they do.

I did my fair share of griping about the third (and now final) season of Veronica Mars, so I don’t want to be a hypocrite. Yet the final six episodes of the season/series were a welcome and entertaining reminder of why I started watching this show. (To be precise, though, I think I watched because my friend The Big Brain told me to).

The third season meandered and squandered excellent secondary characters, like Wallace, Mac, Dick, and Piz. It killed off two of the funniest ones, Sheriff Lamb and Dean O’Dell. These absences were all the more strange because season three also saw a lessened presence for star Kristen Bell. After two seasons of appearing in almost every scene, Bell needed a break. Unfortunately, she was like gravity for the show. When she was offscreen, the story and characters spun out of control. Additionally, season three was divided in two in case it was canceled midseason (it wasn’t), and took a long hiatus after Veronica solved the second long story mystery, the dean’s death. Many viewers didn’t return when VM resumed six weeks later. I nearly didn’t, but again, my friend The Big Brain told me to watch, and I’m glad he did.

The last six episodes were standalones. While the weekly mysteries weren’t that strong, the cast interactions were as good as ever. Veronica finally got a nice boy in Piz (though my friend Rock Hack thinks they did a bad job of making him Indie Rock Boy), told an annoying Logan to go to hell, and in general was her sassy, smart, kick-ass, girl-detective self for the remainder of the season/series. The second to last episode had Paul Rudd in an excellent turn as a has-been rocker, and the last episode finished with a dark, sexual storyline that harked back to season one. I choose to view the repetition of certain story elements (secret society, viral digital spread of a sex video, Veronica tracking down the guy who messed with her) as homages to great stories from season one, rather than rehashes of same.

During season three, I griped. In retrospect, I think the loss of focus felt like fingerprints from the interference of VM’s new network, the CW. I was reminded of the permanent downshift in quality that took place when Buffy the Vampire Slayer switched networks.

In the end, Veronica Mars, the character and the series, finished strong. The creators did a good job of ending in a way that gave closure, while leaving the door open. Creator Rob Thomas had an interesting idea for the fall. Rather than start with fall of the following school year, he suggested they jump ahead four years to Veronica in training as a government operative. Sadly, the CW decided to shut the door on both ideas.

Veronica Mars was never a ratings winner. As Nathan Alderman noted at TeeVee, though, it lasted three seasons, when it could have been canceled immediately. Season one still stands as one of the best, cohesive television seasons I’ve seen. While seasons two and three never attained that former glory, they still featured one of the most clever heroines on television. Veronica was a teenage, noir, girl detective. She was a strong, unique character, and I’m going to miss her come the fall.

I am a long-time fan of Ebert’s reviews, both written and on television. I started watching At the Movies when he was auditioning new partners for the late Gene Siskel’s chair. Sometime last year, Ebert went for cancer treatment, and has not yet returned. Here, he details why not.

I’ve continued to watch At the Movies with Richard Roeper while Ebert’s been gone. I’ve liked seeing Roeper grow as a critic over the years, at least in part because of working with Ebert. I don’t always agree with what they say, but I do respect their opinions. Roeper has had a rotating band of guest critics. Several have been quite good, like A.O. Scott from The New York Times and Lisa Schwarzbaum from Entertainment Weekly. I was both surprised and impressed with the critical insights from Aisha Tyler, Kevin Smith, and Jay Leno. Others have disappointed, like Fred Willard and John Mellencamp. Since Ebert still can’t talk, I don’t think he’ll be back soon. But Roeper’s doing a good job holding down the balcony, and I hope they can keep the good guests coming till Roger is better.

Yet another episode of Bones that made me go “meh”. And I don’t even think it was because anyone cried. We fast-forwarded through several scenes. The music was overpowering, the sentiment full of schmaltz, and the mystery both complicated and uninteresting. Not enough banter, and I suspect that episodes about Bones’s parents = bad. Plus there was no Stephen Fry, who is batting a thousand for the eps he appears in. Coincidence? I think not.

Ack, ack, and triple ack. I hated House last week. Two markers of a sub-standard House episode for me are 1. The case is more important than the banter 2. Somebody cries. Add to this that it was an episode about saving a fetus, that the fetus was shown not only in 3-D ultrasound, but also grabbing House’s hand, (Augh! Creepy animatronic fetus! So scary!) I was surprised to find any redeeming factors. On TV, I dislike shows that play the child-in-danger card, and the baby-in-danger card is worse. But for the show to strongly imply a pro-life stance really bothered this mother of two. There was some good banter, and we are now well and truly set up to see poor Chase get his heart broken. I just hope upcoming episodes are both more nuanced as to character, and less political in narrative. And that NO ONE FRAKKIN’ CRIES, ALREADY.

Except maybe Chase when he gets his heart broken by Cameron.

My husband G. Grod and I went out Saturday night, and a babysitter stayed with the boys. Since we often find dinner AND a movie rushed and stressful, we opted for just dinner, since life lately has been so busy and loud that we would welcome the chance to talk. We went to Midori’s Floating World, which is a lovely oasis of a Japanese restaurant in South Minneapolis. I go there when I’m feeling depleted; its menu is full of restorative gems. I drank the genmaicha green tea from their extensive tea menu, then I had the tempura rice balls, the green forest salad with kombu onigiri (sea vegetable rice ball), and green-tea over rice garnished with emerald flakes of nori. G. had a few nigiri rolls, the tempura California roll, and udon noodles with fried tofu.

After dinner we were well and truly full. Since we needed a little time before dessert, we browsed for watches at Uptown’s Lava Lounge, which is a way-more-hip store than either of us pretends to. But they do carry some fun watches. G. Grod liked this Vestal, the Nixon Graduate with blue face and black band, and the Nixon Banks with orange face. I liked the orange Chalet, and the girlishly impractical crystal Elle, which worked better worn a little large on my wrist.

We stopped next at Crema Cafe, home to Sonny’s ice cream. G. Grod had their signature flavor, Crema, which is espresso infused cream. After sampling the citrus/chili/kaffir lime sorbet, I went with the chocolate fudge ice cream; its slightly dry texture highlighted a good punch of chocolate.

Home again, we stayed up late to watch three episodes from the previous Thursday’s Toby-hosted, HR-nightmares Office marathon. I love the Office. It makes me laugh, though sometimes simulataneously while cringing.

It was a lovely night, but it felt a bit like payback when both boys woke at 4:30 a.m. demanding alternating attention, so each got a short nap later that morning, but neither G. Grod nor I did. We were very grouchy on Sunday.

My husband G. Grod sold me on Heather Havrilesky’s TV columns from Salon.com when he said “She’s the Dara Moskowitz of television reporting!” That’s a very high compliment in our house. I feel bad that HH has to watch so much bad tv in order to review it. But I really enjoy reading about even the shows I DON’T watch.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about the song reveal on the Battlestar Galactica finale till I read this. She wrote it better, and funnier, than I could have. So read, even if you don’t watch Battlestar; her writing is very good, and perhaps you will laugh, as I did.

(SPOILER ALERT: Details of “Battlestar Galactica” finale included in this column.)

Life is but a joke

And speaking of oddly placed songs, let’s get to the main event: Sunday night’s “Battlestar Galactica” finale. I was on board for this one from the start: I loved Lee Adama’s heartfelt speech at Baltar’s trial, particularly after he spent most of this season mooning and pouting and just generally acting like a petulant baby, loved the creepy music and the fact that Anders, Chief Tyrol, Tigh and Tory (Roslin’s press secretary) were the only ones who could hear it, loved the growing suspicion that they were all Cylons (Who better to be a Cylon, than Tigh?), loved the power outages and the mounting suspense… Yes, this was a finale that anyone could get behind.

Maybe it was a stretch to make so many longstanding characters Cylons, but maybe they just think that they’re Cylons. Who knows? Most importantly, it all felt momentous, big changes were clearly afoot, changes that didn’t involve any temples or empty stand-offs with the Cylons or adulterous affairs. Last night’s finale had me by the throat. And then…

Chief Tyrol: There must be some kinda way outta here.

Tigh: Said the joker to the thief.

Anders: There’s too much confusion here.

Tory: I can’t get no relief!

Oh my God! My stoner boyfriend from high school wrote the season finale of “Battlestar Galactica”!

How did that happen? Why did Ronald D. Moore take a break and hand over responsibility for the finale to a guy who spent most of his time doing shots of Bacardi 151 Rum and noodling Hendrix on his guitar? Was that wise, really? Didn’t Moore realize that my ex would make Bob Dylan the Cylon God?

Can you believe it? This is science fiction, it’s pure made-up, imaginary, insane fantasy, the sky’s the limit, you can do whatever you want, and you do whatever you want, and it’s working, for the most part, and you want to take a little break from that to indulge your jones for Dylan? It’s worth it to you, to alienate the vast majority of your audience at the end of your finale, just to reference a pretty cool song that, frankly, no longer seems all that cool since most of us have heard it, oh, fifty million times in the last 20 years?

When I heard those lyrics, all I could think was: Wow, I was way too hard on “The L Word.”

Oh yeah, and Starbuck’s still alive. I almost forgot.

I will be vague, in case you haven’t watched it yet. I liked the finale, but didn’t love it. There was a big reveal, but I didn’t buy it. It was way too big, and while they’d been leading up to it for a few episodes, it still felt like a fake out. I’m terrible at guessing things ahead of time, but I still don’t buy this.

They’re going heavy on the Jesus symbolism for Baltar. His hair and beard, his recent (random) socialism, and three women showing up to him when they did, and why they did, was very interesting, especially as it’s just a few weeks from Easter.

I don’t like the character of Apollo. I liked the content of his speech, but it didn’t feel genuine.

And I’m still thinking on the finally revealed “music” that several characters had been hearing for a few weeks now. It’s an odd, deliberate choice with many possible meanings. And thus far, none of them make any possible sense.

Ronald Moore, please stop futzing around with other stuff, get back to the show. You did a good job in that you didn’t hit a sophomore slump till season three. Get back in the game. Explain that reveal, and that music. If you can sell me on those, you’ll have me back for season 4.

This week’s episode with the boneless woman was more cringe-inducing than usual, and there was no Stephen Fry, so I was a little disappointed overall. Sully said goodbye, but is that the last we’ve seen of him? My husband G. Grod thinks he’ll either be dead or evil by the end of the season. I think evil; perhaps he’s the suffocating serial killer who nearly got Bones earlier in the season? Poor Bones; she does not have a good track record, as Booth so unkindly pointed out to her.

For a funnier use of the term boneless, check out Mo Willems’s Knuffle Bunny. The “K” is pronounced in Knuffle (as it would be in German). And the term for one of Trixie’s tantrum contortions is “going boneless,” which Willems attributes to his wife.