Rage, Rage Against Fox's Cancellation

There was a lot of screaming and blood and only fleeting moments of clarity; it was a long struggle, but 24 has finally breathed its last. As we stand with its maimed corpse before us, I can't say I feel all that bad for the show.

Way back in 2001, I was enthralled by 24's premiere, and I continued to watch the show (with varying degrees of enthusiasm) for the next six years. The formula was simple and, throughout the series' entire run, the producers never dared to mess with it: Start the action rolling in Hour One and do not stop until the moment Hour Twenty-Four ends. It does not matter if the story is following evil terrorists, conniving bureaucrats, omniscient IT people, or that singular lunatic called Jack Bauer (Kiefer Sutherland) – that ticking time bomb (metaphorical or otherwise) never stops until it absolutely must.

Sure, one could give credit to the writers for delivering so consistently on raw tension and thrills, but I won't. By the end of Day Six, I was fully convinced that those people made the crap up as they went along. There were points where it all coalesced beautifully (namely the end of Day Five), but there were oh-so-many where it was an incoherent ramble. At no point in my time as a 24 fan did I ever watch the final episode of a season and find myself able to recall where it began; no given season ever featured any substantial themes or arcs tying things together on a large scale, and I cannot remember any individual episode that did these things effectively on a small scale. So, while the writing was certainly complex (practically byzantine at times), I never felt that it even approached the level of depth necessary to make me give a damn.

In fact, the writing often held the show back. Hilariously bad recurrences abounded: Jack's daughter stumbling into idiotic slasher movie situations, espionage tech that was able to do anything with a few taps of a keyboard (unless the plot necessitated a complication), White House staffs that were full of Machiavellian twats, use of fourth wall-shattering phrases like "within the hour" or "before the end of the hour," the United States government's forgiveness of Jack Bauer's genocidal inclinations, and the torture.

Oh, yes. The torture.

One can forgive a show for being silly, but 24's constant glamorization of torture was so destructive that the real-life United States Army sent a brigadier general to beg, producer, Joel Surnow to stop. He did not oblige. In his eight years on our TV screens, Jack Bauer never stopped using torture as his primary means for getting the job done. That's eight years of jacking people to car batteries, shooting housewives in the knee, taking power drills to flesh, biting off body parts, and just, plain beating the living shit out of anyone and everyone. Not only do countless real-life interrogation experts emphatically state that these tactics are ineffective, but many have found that American soldiers and agents have been compelled to replicate them by watching 24 while in the field.

Now, I'm no advocate of the school of thought that suggests well-adjusted people will become deviants merely by seeing evil acts committed in fiction, but the US Army is not populated by alarmist PTA members; if they are taking issue, there's likely a real problem. Besides, alarmist PTA members should have been saying something about this show. On a week-to-week basis, it featured prolonged sequences of graphic violence that would probably push the boundaries of the MPAA's R rating, except it was being shown on broadcast television at nine PM with a TV-14 rating.

(Censorship sucks, but blatant hypocrisy is worse. In the years since 24's debut, the supposed profusion of sex and profanity on broadcast TV has become the subject of many moral crusades. Yet, has there been a peep about violence so vile that the Army finds it morally objectionable? No. Give me a fucking break.)

Even within the show's plot, all of this sadism proved extremely damaging. It eventually became impossible to take Jack Bauer seriously as a character. He was almost entirely defined by relentless anger (and apparent invincibility). There was that one moment at the very end of Day Three where Jack cries, and there were the occasional lectures from Jack's daughter, but these attempts at lending some humanity to the character could not overshadow his usual behavior. Besides, even these moments were meant to highlight just how impossible it was for him to change; the writers wanted us to think there was nothing more to him. I suppose this could have qualified as tragic, but that would have required the character to suffer more consistently (see: House); Jack rarely seemed to mind his own faults or be adequately punished for them.

It is not worth discussing specific supporting characters. Most of them were glorified plot devices – mainly there to deliver exposition. The villains suffered the most from this. They were generally bad action movie stereotypes: The Eastern Bloc military men, the Mexican drug lords, the Russian intelligence agents, the Chinese intelligence agents and – last, but certainly not least – the Muslim extremists. The show came under fire for making particularly heavy use of that last one. While the criticism was certainly justified in earlier seasons, it seems to be one of the few areas where the writers became repentant. The final few hours of the series portrayed the president of a Muslim country being victimized by both the American and the Russian presidents. It was a nice surprise from a show that was largely incorrigible.

All of these flaws should have rendered the show unwatchable, but I cannot deny how certain aspects of it were always effective. The music, the editing, the directing, the camerawork... 24's uniquely cinematic feel was always its ace in the hole. The characters could be discussing cake recipes in Tagalog, and 24 would still have you on the edge of your seat.

The end-of-episode recap sequence below illustrates this fact well. Nothing really happens here, but that doesn't stop it from being intense:

The show's ability to pull off the shaky-cam aesthetic better than many movies do, but on a fraction of the budget, was a testament to how well it was made. Deep-focus shots would turn someone typing at an office computer into a life-or-death act of espionage... quick zooms would turn a shocked stare from a stiff politician into a scream for help... and, for better or for worse, a quick whip of the camera would turn a punch from Jack into a fatal blow. It is easy to overlook how difficult it is to orchestrate such shots while still keeping them coherent and immersive.

It is even easier to overlook how difficult it is to make an incoherent story seem coherent. Those iconic split-screens were always a very powerful tool. Their geometric layout gave the subliminal impression that the story's various pieces fit together better than they really did. Nothing, however, did more to this end than the music. Sean Callery's score never let up, submerging the viewer in a world of constant tension and ensuring that the visceral impact always hit first and hit hardest.

These achievements ensure that I will look back on the show with at least some fondness. Yet this series was always its own worst enemy. For all of 24's style and ambition, the show's makers could never harness these powerful qualities to create something of true substance – a failure that proved toxic as the years went on. Perhaps a limited run of one or two seasons could have remedied this but, they way things played out, 24's nastiest faults have left the deepest impression.

Closing Its Doors. For Good.

During the airing of Dollhouse's series finale on Friday night, Fox cut off the show in the middle of what I can only assume was the final scene. Considering this show's short, tumultuous history, what could have been more appropriate?

Dollhouse should not have had a second season. The show's ratings were consistently in the toilet. Countless shows have gotten sacked after one or two episodes with the sort of ratings Dollhouse invariably received over its 25 episode run on Fox. Perhaps the folks at the network felt guilty about their idiotic treatment of Joss Whedon's last show, Firefly. Perhaps they knew that Whedon's rabid fanbase would guarantee great DVD sales. Perhaps they had lower expectations in this age of internet, video games and cable TV. Regardless, Dollhouse's improbably long run had nothing to do with the show's quality. It was too damn inconsistent to sell on the grounds that it was a critical hit. Time and again, Dollhouse would make fools of pundits like me, following moments of genuine brilliance with disastrous stumbles. So, now that the show has reached a finale that was as much of a mixed bag as ever, how much will the show really be missed?

After the First Season ended on an extremely high note, I, like many others, was convinced that Dollhouse had found its groove. Mr. Keeley reviewed the Second Season premiere, "Vows," as a newcomer to the series and approved of it – with a few reservations. Those reservations were not misplaced and, for viewers of the First Season, the episode's flaws were disconcerting. "Vows" displayed far too many of the issues that plagued the series' earliest episodes, as I explain later in that post myself. With the following episode, "Instinct," the series bottomed out. An absolutely boneheaded premise was coupled with little-to-no advancement of any major plotlines.

I was already wondering if I would bother to watch the next episode. The realization that Dollhouse would never be a consistently good show dawned on me.

This is partly why the episode that came three weeks later was such a revelation. To call "Belonging" bold is an understatement. It told the story of Priya (Dichen Lachman), a young woman who is the object of a self-indulgent doctor's desires. This doctor, Nolan Kinnard (Vincent Ventresca), tries to sweep Priya off of her feet upon meeting her, but she quickly comes to hate his decadent lifestyle. After she publicly rejects him, he hatches a complex plan with a simple goal: enslaving her. The result is that Priya becomes Sierra, a doll whom he buys on a regular basis – a doll imprinted as a pliable, approving version of Priya.

If most network television dramas made their darkest qualities so plainly visible as Dollhouse did in this episode, they would be be cancelled. Only the show's lack of popularity can explain why Fox was allowed to air this, one of the most horrifying hours of television I have ever seen. For, as sick as the premise is, the unmitigated moral ambiguity of its conclusion is what leaves the deepest mark. When Topher (Fran Kranz), the Dollhouse's typically amoral scientist, discovers Sierra's true origins, Nolan is exposed. Nolan demands exclusive use of Sierra by threatening to use his power to destroy the Dollhouse. Topher is forced to comply. Instead of giving Nolan his version of Priya, however, he secretly imprints her with her original personality. He explains the situation to her and, powerless to help any further, gives her to Nolan.

It is not long before Nolan realizes that Priya is not as compliant as she should be. With this realization, he attempts to rape her. She fights back and kills him. Topher, still concerned for her, finds her in shock next to Nolan's body. In order to save both Priya and himself from punishment, he is forced to dispose of Nolan's body by cutting it into pieces. The experience leaves Topher emotionally decimated. The moment when he is forced to wipe the mind of Priya – a person for whom he has come to deeply care – is perhaps even more painful. This character once embodied the gleefully amoral scientific progress that defines the Dollhouse. With the conclusion of this episode, however, he had borne all of the pain and horror that his work could cause.

It is tough to hate a show that can be this good.

Soon after "Belonging" aired, the Dollhouse cast and crew must have learned that the show would not be back for a third season. This is evident in the marked change of pace that occurs after this episode. Suddenly, what seemed like seasons worth of plot was being poured into a few episodes.

Rarely do viewers get to experience the work of a group of talented writers who are holding nothing back. This led to a run of several good episodes, a few of which rank among the best of the series. The world of Dollhouse was deepened. The characters were developed further. The plot moved with the sort of self-assurance that only a show with its end in sight can. Even some of the vagaries and weak spots from earlier in the series were revisited and improved. It was apparent that Dollhouse was set for a fantastic finale... until "The Hollow Men" came along.

This, the penultimate episode, was a veritable mess. A huge twist that suddenly cast Boyd (Harry Lennix), a beloved hero of the Dollhouse universe, as the chief villain of the series backfired in countless ways. Nothing in his newly-revealed, evil plot explained away 24 episodes of unwavering heroism, and the purpose of that evil plot was never coherently explained. Furthermore, the episode threatened to sully what brilliance came before it. The revelation about Boyd not only provided a wildly unsatisfying end for a consistently enigmatic character, but it cast a shadow over all of his previous actions; the severe damage done to Boyd was retroactive. Also, the idea that a show as morally complex as Dollhouse could boil the solution to all of its plot threads down to killing one villain and destroying one computer mainframe was downright laughable.

"The Hollow Men" was clearly a casualty of dwindling budgets and quickly approaching deadlines. Most of the episode had the usually-excellent cast running around a series of generic hallways, barely able to hide their confusion as they performed scenes that had little consistency with the nuanced characters they had worked so hard to build. This was a letdown of the high order of Neon Genesis Evangelion's finale. While the episode was thankfully not Dollhouse's last, the bad taste it left will remain a reminder of how the show was inconsistent to the very end.

The series finale was far more satisfying. While it did create a few plotholes for the sake of bringing characters together, it remained true to the theme, tone and characters of Dollhouse; under the circumstances, it was the best farewell for which fans could have asked.

There is much for which fans of Dollhouse can be thankful. That the series got a second season, much less a chance to provide closure is something of a miracle. Fox was downright charitable in letting the series continue as long as it did. The Second Season had a number of truly fantastic episodes that easily overcame the few bombs. Nevertheless, being a fan of Dollhouse was an abusive experience. Dollhouse may have improved over its mediocre first episodes, but it never gained stability. When it was good, it thrilled like no other show could, but that rendered its disappointments all the more painful. That is why perhaps the greatest thing for which fans should be thankful is that the show has finally come to an end. In the afterlife of DVD, those disappointments can be omitted with the press of a button.

Conan and the Comic Misadventures of the NBC Executives

These days, watching NBC is like watching a lost hiker gnawing at his arm in a desperate attempt to stave off starvation. Moving Jay Leno to ten o'clock has done far more damage to the network than even the biggest skeptics probably expected, digging the deep hole NBC had in its primetime schedule even deeper. Now, as the network struggles to rectify the situation, Conan O'Brien has effectively received a slap in the face and a kick in the butt. It was a short-sighted response on the part of NBC executives, and O'Brien has made them pay with constant on-air heckling in the lead-up to his departure. (Like this masterpiece of schadenfreude.) The saga that led up to all of this makes for some good drama, but it also reveals how Conan O'Brien has already come out on top.

It did not take long for Jay Leno to prove himself unworthy of primetime. The moment he walked out onto his new set, it was apparent that The Jay Leno Show was essentially The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, plus some superficial gimmicks. The elimination of the time-tested hosts' desk in favor of two unadorned chairs could have signaled a greater focus on in-depth interviews. It did not. Stunt guests quickly wore thin, making the show feel even more tawdry than the typical late night plug-fest. Leno capitalized on the Kanye West "Imma let you finish" controversy by interviewing the rapper soon after the incident. Leno brought the man to tears by asking if he thought his recently deceased mother would approve of his actions. It was the sort of vicious moral condescension that any decent person would reserve for the likes of Roman Polanski, but Leno saw fit to utilize it for a person who merely displayed bad manners on MTV. It was pure, ratings-grabbing exploitation and there was no way it would work for long.

It is not that this sort of material is beneath prime time television, per se (sinking this low is the bread and butter of reality TV, after all). It, however, was not markedly different from what has been on late night TV for years – and what constitutes ratings success in late night is very different from what constitutes success in prime time. It does not take a programming executive to see how ill-conceived the whole show was.

The best that can be said about the plan is that NBC marshaled its forces and transitioned their existing late night block quite smoothly. Conan O'Brien took over Leno's old role as host of the venerable Tonight Show franchise and Jimmy Fallon became the host of O'Brien's old Late Night program. Both new shows launched months before Leno's did and competed with their rivals on CBS ably. This was no small feat as, historically, new late night hosts have taken months, if not years, to build a stable audience.

The Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien took on a fairly familiar form – featuring O'Brien's manic, self-deprecating style with the glossy sheen of a bigger budget and a move to the west coast. The host eased into the bigger spotlight slowly, but surely. These days, he is just as wild and digressive as ever, but he shows a keener sense of pacing than he once did. O'Brien seems to understand that his new job is the opposite of Leno's: Putting on the best show he can without reinventing the wheel. (When I look back at the 2008 writers' strike, I cannot help but wonder if the two should have switched roles. Conan's efforts at putting on a writer-less show displayed far greater capacity for innovation than Leno's ever did.)

Since their new shows' debuts, however, ratings have bottomed out for both Leno and O'Brien. NBC has responded with panic. Their actions seem to contradict their previous rationale for withholding quick judgement – having once acknowledged that Leno would only flourish in the less competitive spring and summer seasons and that this would help O'Brien build his own audience. Obviously, not nearly enough time has passed for either of these things to happen and NBC has now assured that neither ever will.

Even if NBC had low expectations for Leno's performance, he obviously failed to live up to even those expectations because "Jay at 10" is as good as dead. Yet, they still insist on putting him front-and-center in their proposed new lineup, while punishing Conan, who has carefully settled in for a slow build. Leno would be moved back to the first half of The Tonight Show's old time slot at 11:35 and then The Tonight Show would air at 12:05. Frantically trying to recapture Leno's old popularity in a half-hour show would be a jarring move in a daypart that thrives on consistency. Pushing O'Brien back in order to accommodate the show would only ensure O'Brien's failure, as well; few struggling shows have ever been aided by a scheduling shuffle.

NBC has painted itself into a corner and, ironically, only the hosts themselves can save it. There is clearly only enough room for two hosts on NBC late night and, with Fallon enjoying success, it comes down to either Leno or O'Brien. This is where Conan O'Brien has shown his worth. He understands that moving the decades-old Tonight Show from its longtime home at 11:35 would be the beginning of the end of a television institution. Meanwhile, it is apparent that NBC is willing to keep Leno at all costs, and that Leno is willing to let NBC kick him around as much as they would like – a combination that hardly promises stability in the face of future ratings declines.

In short, there are few reasons for Conan to stay. There are plenty of networks that want him and would be perfectly happy with the ratings he already gets. At the moment, it may look like Conan is the one who has gotten the shaft, but being loosed from the grasp of the seemingly suicidal NBC management may prove to be quite the blessing.

Millions of Americans Suffer from It, and Now There Is Help

If you are like me, you often find our culture a bit overwhelming. From the hundreds of magazines clamoring for your attention, to the thousands of cable channels fighting for your screentime, to the millions of websites begging for your clickthroughs, information overload is an unavoidable side effect of being a modern American. This is a condition called infomania, and thankfully, there is a cure. Targeting the media for laughs is exactly what one needs after a long week of being targeted by the media.

infoMania – the TV show – is not entirely unique. This half-hour, weekly show, on a little cable network called Current TV, bears a considerable resemblance to The Soup; it features a snarky, young guy with a skinny tie, standing in front of a green screen, riffing on pop culture. The show was also created by one of the original Daily Show creators. Make no mistake, though: it is far more incisive than The Soup and it bears none of the political pretensions that The Daily Show does. infoMania is committed to exposing the absurdity in modern pop culture, not becoming complicit in it.

The show is composed of a number of segments, most of which are presented by host, Conor Knighton. He may seem like a typical twenty/thirtysomething cable host, but his talents reveal themselves quickly. His comments are far sharper and quicker than Joel McHale's or Jon Stewart's, and he manages to deliver scathing criticism without ever approaching pretentiousness. His biggest advantage is the lack of a live audience. No comic ever got funnier while smirking at his audience's laughter. This omission also frees the show to move very quickly through its consistently hilarious segments.

Knighton always leads off with what he calls "The Big Stories," but he is not playing newsman; what he considers a story is how everyone else handles a story. Last week, the segment consisted of a cringe-inducing round-up of cable news puns on Tiger Woods' name ("Woods isn't out of the woods yet!"), clips of MSNBC interrupting serious news stories for meaningless, new details on the Woods scandal (New pictures of the fabled fire hydrant!) and all of the best scenes from TLC's I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant (tip: if you get off of the toilet, only to find an infant staring up at you, the infant should be removed from the toilet immediately). It may sound quite a bit like The Soup, but where Joel McHale takes potshots at a reality TV stars – and thereby plays into their attention whoring – Knighton and his writers are more interested in making larger points about our culture. (Did you know that there's a war going on?) It is nice to be able to laugh without turning off your brain.

Knighton presents a number of other segments, such as "We've Got You Covered," where he burns through the week in magazines, but he is also backed up by an extremely strong group of co-hosts. Sergio Cilli handles "The White-Hot Top 5," where he counts down current music hits with all of the bone-dry sarcasm of a college radio station employee – but with a vital touch of self-consciousness.

Sarah Haskins hosts "Target: Women," where she mocks all of the shameless manipulation that ads utilize to, well, target women. Bryan Safi gleefully picks apart the media's portrayal of gays in "That's Gay." Ben Hoffman lethargically reviews all of the week's new, useless gadgets in "Tech Report." And Brett Erlich hosts "Viral Video Film School," where he provides instructions on how to become part of YouTube's more bizarre and disturbing trends.

The result is a program that digests seven days' worth of media and pop culture dreck into something tolerable, fun, and even thought-provoking. By the time the end credits roll, I feel as if I have ever-so-briefly gotten my head above the ever-rising tide of information, thankful that someone else realizes how ridiculous it all is. Even better, there is no built-in hypocrisy to be found. Unlike Joel McHale, Conor Knighton is not employed by the very people he is mocking; Current TV is independent and infoMania is widely available online. Hulu, YouTube and iTunes all have every episode of the series available for free. For victims of infomania, it looks like quality healthcare is affordable.

Indecent Exposure, or How to Mention both Adam Lambert and the Supreme Court in the Same Breath

Some things never change. Way back in 1956 – the days of television's childhood – Elvis Presley's hip gyrations had a way of stirring up controversy. Ed Sullivan, a famous broadcaster, vowed to never allow such a vulgar act on his show. Once the ratings for Presley's appearance on rival, Steve Allen's show came in, however, he suddenly had a change of heart. Presley's performance on The Ed Sullivan Show has since become one of pop music's greatest triumphs over the supposed squeamishness of the American television viewing public.

Here, in 2009, another bizarre parallel with the middle of last century has emerged: the resurgence of the Red Tide. With the Great Healthcare Debate raging, cable news has overflowed with activists passionately expressing their fears that this country has fallen into the hands of communists. It is funny, then, that most of the politicians who stand firmly against government-run health care strongly advocate another trademark of communist government: censorship. When the country was suddenly, and violently, forced to witness the disturbing reality of human anatomy during 2004's Super Bowl Halftime Show, more political demand for censorship of broadcast television and radio emerged than ever before.

A number of CBS stations were fined for the incident – not because they had creative input in the performance, not because they hired the producers who did have such input and not even because they were part of the network that hired those producers. These individual stations were fined because they, ultimately, were the messengers; with very little awareness of what CBS was providing to them (and certainly no idea what liberties Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson would take), they merely handled the last leg, bringing the show to the screens of Americans. Suddenly, television stations were like turkeys on Thanksgiving – ready to fall victim to spurious government fines at any time.

The folks at the Fox network were clearly feeling the heat from their station managers when they decided to take the government to court over an incident of their own. (Cher decided to say "fuck" while accepting an award at the Billboard Music Awards.) The case made it all the way to the Supreme Court, where earlier this year, the fines were ruled legitimate on the grounds that "even isolated utterances can be made in… a vulgar and shocking manner, and can constitute harmful first blows to children." In other words, the government can censor television and radio broadcasts because of the children.

Apparently, some things do change... such as the validity of the First Amendment.

What is the result? Broadcast TV has become a grotesque patchwork of arbitrary taboos and shocking lapses in standards. The government has never prosecuted a network for showing violent fare; the old adage that you can show a man severing a woman's breast before you can actually show a breast has only become more accurate. Any number of weekly crime dramas revel in the graphic details of heinous crimes, but only one has faced a fine: Without a Trace featured a (contrived) orgy scene, without a trace of nudity or violence, that led to fines. Ironically, the government's clear admonition of any and all nudity has come alongside a notable increase in network television sex scenes.

So, while it is true that television networks rarely balk at catering to the lowest common denominator, they remain victims of the government's arbitrary regulations. The Federal Communications Commission only has one written guideline for networks to follow: Do not show anything "indecent" between 6AM and 10PM and never show anything "obscene." No further detail is provided and only the latter part has any basis in the Constitution.

Out of this maelstrom emerges the latest chapter in the saga: Adam Lambert at last weekend's American Music Awards. Lambert's performance featured an overt, S&M theme. During the course of the song, he was surrounded by scantily clad men and women, wrapping their limbs around him. Early on, one of them – a man – crawled up to him and simulated oral sex. A minute or two later, Lambert stuck his fingers into a female dancer's crotch. At the end of the number, Lambert kissed a male member of his band. ABC, the show's broadcaster, was quick to claim that Lambert's rehearsals suggested that a slightly less risqué performance would take place. ABC also, promptly, cancelled Lambert's scheduled appearance the next morning on Good Morning, America, for fear of him doing something else unexpected.

The media has largely focused on Lambert's allegations of double standards. He claims that female performers often do such suggestive performances, including same-sex kissing, without any complaints. (His point was effectively proven when a CBS News report on the incident blurred his kiss, but showed Madonna and Britney Spears kissing uncensored.) Yet, it is unlikely that ABC reacted the way it did due to any double standard, especially given that it is considered friendly to the gay community by activist groups. Instead, it is obvious that ABC fears fines in a territory that, time and again, government regulators love to tread: live music performances.

Still, ABC is hardly an unwitting victim. The theme of the number, including the costumes and most of the choreography, was clearly approved by the network. They knew exactly what they were getting into; they were simply trying to walk the line and they tripped. Similarly, most of the blame fell on Janet Jackson back in 2004 when, in reality, the network approved a song that included lyrics such as, "I gotta have you naked by the end of this song." Can CBS really blame Justin Timberlake for delivering on a promise that they knew he would make?

Network TV is not a cesspool because of a "fuck" here and a boob there. (It is not really a cesspool at all; that is cable's honor.) What plagues broadcast television is the pursuit of profit – the constant catering to the masses at the expense of social responsibility and artistic ambition. No amount of regulation will ever fix that problem; it runs far too deeply. This fact applies to the government, as well. If politicians genuinely wanted to crusade against "indecency," they would tackle television's obvious scourge: rampant, graphic, cynical displays of violence. They would also probably do so without compromising constitutional rights. There are no powerful political contingencies, however, pushing for such things, so politicians have no motivation to pursue them.

Ultimately, the best we can ask for is letting free speech be truly free, letting parents do the parenting and reminding those who dislike network TV that they can always (gasp!) turn off the fucking TV.

There is one glimmer of hope that suggests things are heading this way. Fox's case was limited to judging whether or not the Billboard Music Awards incident violated the FCC's guidelines. A number of Supreme Court justices made it clear that their decisions stood within this narrow scope and that, if allowed to consider the larger issue of those guidelines' legality, the justices would likely declare them unconstitutional. Here is hoping that the First Amendment turns out to be one of those things that never changes.

Flashbacks, Flashforwards and Flashes of Cleavage

Now that Dollhouse has been sent to the attic, the options for sci-fi fans who watch network television are fewer than ever. Even Fringe, the only other sci-fi show that Fox has, spent some time on the chopping block. Surprisingly, it seems that ABC is looking to fill this void. This September, one of the network's major premieres was a show called FlashForward. Now, in the thick of November sweeps, ABC has pulled out another big-budget, sci-fi project: V. It places ABC in the unlikely position of being sci-fi's last network television hope. (Cable is not looking much better.) So, should sci-fi fans place their hopes in the network best known for Dancing with the Stars and Grey's Anatomy?

Immediately, it is clear that ABC's concept of what sci-fi can be is defined with one word: Lost. (If we ignore Defying Gravity, which we certainly will.) Both FlashForward and V obviously borrow their general formulas from J.J. Abrams' popular show. For those of you who do not have electricity, Lost is about a group of people who are stranded on a remote, Pacific island after their plane mysteriously crashes. The crash occurs in the first episode and, from that point on, we watch as the passengers slowly piece together what happened to them, both through scenes on the island and through flashbacks.

Now, FlashForward is a show where, instead of flashbacks, the characters must grapple with (wait for it) flashforwards. The central mystery here is why everyone in the world saw two minutes and seventeen seconds of what could very well be their future. On paper, it is essentially Lost, but the people can shave and buy a hamburger whenever they want.

V is not quite so overtly derivative. Alien spaceships appear over a number of major cities around the world, equipped with giant LCD screens. The aliens use these screens to ensure the humans that they are "of peace. Always." Moral complexity ostensibly ensues as the ensemble of characters struggles to figure out just what the aliens intend to do. To the credit of creator, Kenneth Johnson, V leaves the plot's timeline largely un-screwed with. Yet, V still largely focuses on how the numerous characters react to the circumstances, like the other two shows and, like FlashForward, V even does this in the face of a very large-scale premise. I am not, by any means, saying that sci-fi cannot be character-driven. The problem with these two shows is that the character development seems to enable a phobia of genuine science fiction among their producers.

FlashForward actually did quite a bit with its premise over its first few episodes. The writers quickly set about exploring the endless repercussions of a global catastrophe, from the immediate chaos that results from everyone passing out for two minutes to the twisted playground games children play once school resumes. Furthermore, the numerous characters in the show are each affected by unique problems arising from their glimpses into the future. One character sees himself speaking to his dead daughter, another sees herself cheating on her husband and one even sees nothing at all. It results in some protracted melodrama, yes, but quite a bit of genuine pathos, as well.

Yet, the fact remains that the major hook in FlashForward is an epic, sci-fi mystery. It is in the execution of this aspect that the show falls on its face. I groaned the moment I learned that the lead character is an FBI agent and my reaction has proven justified. Much of the show is devoted to procedural water-treading, as the agent and his cohorts run from one contrived clue to another, struggling to understand the flashforwards. It renders the show a thinly veiled cop drama. This show's writers may be smart, but they shot themselves in the foot; FlashForward's hook is far more exciting than anything the show can offer on a weekly basis. The saving grace? The flashforwards all showed what would happen on a certain day in spring, 2010, meaning that the show has a guaranteed payoff by the end of the season. It is hard to deny that such a commitment took guts on the writers' part.

V, on the other hand, has no saving grace. By the end of the 47 minute pilot episode, there is little question that this show is DOA. It begins much like FlashForward, showing the large cast of characters being caught off guard by a shocking incident. Thing is, this show's "shocking incident" is a vaguely creepy lady on a TV screen. What V's writers wish to do with their concept (or the concept they stole from the 1980's series by the same name) is largely unclear. Sure, there are characters running around, getting agitated for various reasons, but this show has no themes to tie the rambling plot together.

It is immediately obvious that the aliens are up to no good, so the controversy among the humans as to the aliens' motives seems downright idiotic. There are a few good aliens, but it is tough to care about their subversive efforts because we have no idea what, exactly, makes the bad aliens bad, apart from their hair. Much of the first two episodes is devoted to a teenage character's attempts to bed a sexy alien girl who often fails to fully zip up her top. Finally, (did you see this coming?) the main character is an FBI agent who is struggling to uncover the true nature of the aliens by way of a series of vague clues. So much time is devoted to the trifling exploits of these flat characters that the science fiction is often limited to the occasional shot of the space ship over Manhattan.

Circumstances are neither mitigated by the often laughable dialogue, (Teenage guy's sidekick goes, "Two words: Awe-some!" when he gets hit on. An interrogation scene begins with the line, "I want answers!") nor by the hokey production design that uses stock TV apartments and FBI offices that are shot with about as much menace as an episode of Private Practice. V may not rely on the storytelling gimmicks that ABC's other two sci-fi dramas do, but it is victimized by many of the same pitfalls, and to a far greater extent. It is impressive how bland and familiar a show featuring reptile people can feel.

While ABC's narrow approach to sci-fi does not completely undermine their efforts, it is undeniable that, by the time they got around to airing V, the well had run dry. If the network wants to be science fiction's savior, it is going to have to take some chances. FlashForward may yet prove worthwhile, but V has no chance of doing so. Considering that both of the shows' ratings are sinking, however, neither may have a future. Is it too early to ask what Joss Whedon is working on next?

Late for Treatment: A Newcomer to "Dollhouse"

Note that this write-up contains spoilers for the season premiere of Dollhouse.

A few weeks ago, Mr. Hollis-Lima talked about his admiration for Joss Whedon's Dollhouse. Despite all the praise it received from people I'm inclined to trust, I never got around to really watching the show – I saw my friends and roommates viewing it and once I even watched three-quarters of an episode. Still, I could hardly count myself as a regular viewer. As I'd heard the season two opener was a good jumping-on point, I decided I'd watch it and blog a newcomer's reaction. As I can't wipe my memories of my scanty prior experiences of Dollhouse, I won't claim that I went into the show "cold." Even so, I think my experience with the season premiere is representative of the average newcomer's.

Not only does "Vows" quickly introduce the show's concepts – Dolls, mindwiping, handlers, programmers, etc. – quickly, it's also cuts straight to the seedy, unpleasant, and even horrific aspects of the Dollhouse. Yes, the Dollhouse building has a pleasant, slick warmth to it. Yes, there's pretty people and pop music. And yes, there's a lot of humor. But Whedon never lets us forget that his tale is, at heart, existential horror. One of the few Season One episodes I watched anything of had a fairy tale motif. If Dollhouse is a fairy tale, it's not Disney but unedited Grimm. For what it's worth, it appears that next week's episode, "Instinct," will be more explicitly creepy: Echo going to violent lengths to protect "her" baby.

This particular episode focuses on "erstwhile agent" Ballard's (Tamoh Penikett) attempt to use Echo (Eliza Dushku) to entrap an arms dealer. The honey trap is an old staple of espionage and thriller fiction, but it gains fresh perversity when the "honey" isn't entirely willing. Ballard may have the best intentions – stopping criminals from bringing dirty bombs into the country is a Good Thing – but can it really justify sci-fi rape/prostitution? Somehow one doubts that it can. The setup works very well for a season premiere and potential introduction to the series, allowing as it does for sex, violence, and intriguing flashbacks. Discussions on the natures of consciousness and identity are all well and good, but karate and gunplay and Eliza Dushku not wearing much all help bring the show the viewers it desperately needs.

In his earlier post on Dollhouse, Matt said he found the events at the Dollhouse generally more interesting than the Dolls' "engagements." Based off this single episode, I have to say I agree. The arms dealer plot seemed like a retread of dozens of other stories, even with the "topical" element of the dirty bombs and the creepy exploitation of Echo. I was much more interested in the plot back "home," especially as regards Whiskey, the Dollhouse's resident doctor – and a Doll who knows what she is. Watching her breakdown and reconstruct herself was by far the most interesting aspect of the episode. I hope that further episodes explore the character, though it looks as if Whiskey won't be a regular on the show – Amy Acker is listed as a guest star at the beginning of the show. Oh well.

"Vows" ends with Echo telling Ballard something very interesting, though I suppose the real source of the revelation could be the powers behind the Dollhouse toying with Ballard, trying to make him reveal his true intentions. The central conceits of Dollhouse seem to call for paranoid plot speculation – I know that many fans have some pretty wild theories about the overall plot arc. In addition to the big reveal at the end, this episode introduces what could be a major Season Two storyline. We see a senator speak about his devotion to health care (Topicality!) and his belief that the (Dollhouse parent company) Rossum Corporation has withheld major medical advances. The head of Dollhouse security, Boyd (Harry Lennix), says that "He wasn't on our radar" and must have learned about Rossum very recently. It seems there is a mole under the Dollhouse.

One of the things that most impressed me about "Vows" was its character "portraiture." The Doll programmer Topher (Fran Kranz) gets called a "sociopath" early in the episode, but later demonstrates scruples one wouldn't expect to see in so toxic an environment as the Dollhouse. Ballard has good intentions, but Whedon suggests they've put him on the road to hell. Everyone at the Dollhouse seems to have a character – the most unconvincing characters, ironically enough, are the people from the outside world. We can believe in Echo, Topher, Ballard, et al. far more than we can buy the gullible arms dealer who finds high explosives so "beautiful."

As much as I liked watching Dollhouse, I did have several issues with it. For one thing, it was unclear how much time the episode covered. As Echo marries the arms dealer at the beginning of the episode, I take it she has been playing seductress for months now? Are we supposed to assume she never got access to his house and the secrets within before her wedding night? It's all a bit awkward, and for once I would have appreciated a little more setup and exposition. I won't say that the finale action scene was tacked-on per se, but it did feel a little underwhelming. I would have liked to see a little more of the "clean up" as well – the newspapers evidently report "an arms deal gone wrong," but, since most of the criminals survive, one would think their testimony would draw attention to the Dollhouse. The FBI, for example, would be interested to know that a former agent helped bring down the "untouchable" crime boss. I guess there are some things you just can't expect from a one-hour show.

I don't deign to watch much television – perhaps it's a character flaw. But I think I've just added another show to my personal schedule. Hell, I may even have to order that Season One Blu-Ray. Matt tells me there are other episodes far better than the one I just watched. I look forward to seeing them.

Now, a response from Mr. Hollis-Lima:

Matt has already spoken of my love for this show. I have to admit, however, that I found this episode rather frustrating. The ideas in "Vows" were as fascinating as ever, but the episode's structure was straight out of the show's uneasy infancy. It often veered into murkiness, rendering many of its ideas difficult to digest. This makes the episode a far cry from wonderful First Season highlights like "Needs" and "Briar Rose."

As for accessibility, "Vows" may suit perceptive viewers like Mr. Keeley well enough, but I fear that a number of convolutions sent Joe Nielsen Box running for the "Law & Order" repeats last night. Now, I assure you, I am no proponent of lowest common denominator TV; some aspects of this episode were simply muddled.

Echo's assignment is easily the biggest perpetrator here. Ironically, I would say that this plotline suffered from being overdeveloped; it got too much screen time. Veteran viewers will tell you that engagements slipped further and further into the background as the First Season progressed. This was a good thing, as it allowed them to play an ancillary role in the series' main plotlines. In "Vows," however, details like Echo's wedding of the arms dealer and prowling business associates just raised too many unimportant questions. This plotline should have been stripped down considerably – the whole episode would have benefited from it.

Thankfully, once the arms dealer finally gets his punch to the face, the episode's last act is left with plenty of breathing room. Major plotlines for this season are set up here, and they all look very promising. Whiskey's games with Topher are as juicy as they're cracked up to be and I cannot wait for more. Now that the obligatory moral floundering is past, I am happy to see Ballard resigning to his role as Echo's handler. There's a hell of a lot of trouble that is waiting to crash down on DeWitt's head, too.

There are many questions that need to be answered, but I know this show well enough to expect an answer to all of them in coming episodes (if they have not already been slipped in under some character's breath). This is, after all, a show that almost requires multiple viewings of each episode; many things only make sense on the second pass. I would say that this is more of a complement than it is a criticism, but one wonders if enough viewers agree to keep the show afloat. If the writers can work their way back up to last season's highs, I am optimistic.

Cable TV: Not Just Entertainment Anymore

I intended to refrain from writing on this issue. It is one characterized by such brazen condescension that I refused to believe that the average American was not already privy to it. More often than not this summer, however, I have found my trips to the movie theater beginning with an obnoxious reminder of just how naked the greed of American media companies has become. I am speaking about one of those longform commercials that precedes the trailers at AMC theaters (annoying in and of themselves, but not the point). The ad in question consists of the rocker, Andrew W.K. screaming about how Cartoon Network is now "more than just cartoons." It is a particularly blatant example of a bigger phenomenon that the internet has labeled "unbranding."

Anyone who has watched Cartoon Network in the past few years knew that this was coming. A few years back, executives at the network announced that they would be embracing a broader idea of what "cartoon" means. What did the word really mean in their minds? Things that are not cartoons, of course. The trickle was slow at first – the odd, live action movie here and there – but it was clear that, if this network was subject to the same forces that others are, it would not remain a trickle for long. The History Channel now proudly states that history is "Made Every Day," saving viewers the trouble of wondering how historical this week's "Ice Road Truckers" was. The SciFi Channel has now morphed into some illiterate, bastard spawn called SyFy, side-stepping their long-standing confusion of science fiction, fantasy and Nic Cage movies. One could argue that even the cable news networks play fast and loose with their titles, given how difficult it is to find news on them. (Anyone know what MSNBC stands for, anyway? Thought not.) Now, Cartoon Network is launching CN Real, a block of reality shows that includes programming such as "Destroy Build Destroy." No wonder they need a frenetic music video to justify it.

What does it all mean? In short, nothing – on purpose. When a channel called "Cartoon Network" proudly announces that cartoons are not enough for them anymore, it does not just render the name meaningless; it seems to make meaning the enemy of all things capitalist. It is why the term, "unbranding" is so apt. Traditionally, marketing is about creating a cohesive, unique idea of what a product is in the heads of consumers. The tactics that cable channels are now embracing across the board seem to fly directly in the face of traditional marketing. In fact, it borders on purposeful confusion. These days, the name of a channel is generally a surer indication of what one will not find on a cable channel, than what one will find.

Unless, of course, the channel lacks an identity altogether. If one was to peruse the cable Nielsen ratings on a weekly basis, a handful of channels would quickly emerge as consistent, unopposed successes: USA and TNT. Anyone would tell you that, if anything, these channels could be called "general entertainment." TNT? They "Know Drama," apparently, but they also seem to like airing "Ace Ventura: Pet Detective." ... and USA says "Characters Welcome." Well, that rules out experimental cinema, I suppose. So, what is one to do when they own a cable channel with a woefully specific name, like "Cartoon Network?" Render the name meaningless. Then, it is only a matter of time before its scoring big with ad nauseam "Law & Order" reruns.

It is only natural to emulate something that works. Those fancy-pants ad men on Madison Avenue (ahem, you would think that, at least, the folks at AMC would know about them), however, seem to have their noses to the ground. With all of the cable channels rushing to the same well, it would not be long before it runs dry and Americans power up their cable boxes to find nothing more than an alphabet soup of bland, clone channels... and some porn. To me, it is apparent that such a time has already come.

Yet, even in a recession, most cable companies' subscriber rates have not dropped in any considerable amount, as Americans pay a rising average of $71 per month for the service.

Today's cable channels offer none of the benefits that they did in the 1970's, when the concept was introduced. Most channels quickly dropped their ad-free formats, despite the fact that we were paying to see them. Of course, with ads, comes censorship, the lack of which was another selling point for cable. Now, the final nail has been run in: The promise of niche programming, designed to appeal to one's personal tastes, not the national audiences of the broadcast networks, has been flouted. Today, cable subscribers are left with hundreds of broad-appeal, commercial-supported channels that are filled with repetitive schedules and low-quality programming.

Where are the benefits over broadcast television? Sure, there are more channels but is the gain really that large in a qualitative sense? "Unbranding" should make the answer to this clear. Anything cable has that is worth watching can be rented on DVD. (Hell, HBO is $13 per month. You could buy your favorite shows and probably break even.) Besides, the premium channels do not explain why most people pay about $50 every month for the trash heap that is basic cable. I suppose that sports are tough to find outside of cable, but licensing fees for regional sports channels are astronomical – just ask your cable company. How much can you love a team that perpetrates such highway robbery? Most teams have a game or two on broadcast networks each week, anyway... in HD, no less.

Most Americans would benefit from stepping back and asking themselves if they only watch cable out of habit. The amount of cable programming that can be considered "appointment viewing" pales in comparison to the amount that people simply watch because it is there. Media companies are relying on that passivity more and more, as the quality of their product steadily declines, and what is there is being spread thinner every day.

When all is considered, there are few reasons to continue to shell out those exorbitant subscription fees. Even if your house does not have a rooftop antenna, it would only cost a month or two's worth of subscription money to fix that. It is a small sacrifice to make for a lifetime of free television. With the digital transition over, broadcast channels have multiplied and their picture quality is great (over-the-air HD is almost always better looking than cable's). Besides, an $852 per year habit is probably one worth kicking, under any circumstances.