So far it's straddling the caustic/humane gulf without seeming schizoid. Being only half an hour long helps.
I could easily picture myself stepping out for a pack of smokes and never watching this show again, which makes it this year's Samantha Who?
I guess I should just admit I've been watching this show. The "Grey's Anatomy in space" angle has been grating for the eight episodes aired in the US thus far—but wouldn't you know it, the ninth episode, which I had to finagle the Canadian broadcast of because the show's been pulled from ABC's schedule—that's the episode that finally revealed enough of a big idea to keep me interested … in a show that's probably been canceled. Eh, the production values really weren't half bad, considering.
The pilot was the late Anthony Minghella's final big-hearted valentine to the world. May the series live up to it.
It's debatable how long a serial with so few recurring characters exploring the romanticized mysteries of what is essentially a dead-end job can maintain its delicate night-bloom charms, but this Showtime import (happily London-based with nary a whiff of the network's usual Canada-for-wherever substitutions) is watchable thus far. And for all the typical premium-cable come-ons about pseudo-hardcore hanky-panky, at this point boringly numerous and inevitable, the actual onscreen couplings are handled with an almost novel absence of exploitation. The mystique of illicit, moodily lit, soft-focus sex, and the obligatorily arch, worldly observations designed to puncture it, tend to come with a built-in expiration date; but for now, in twenty-minute segments, they feel comparatively fresh and inviting.
The "offbeat/quirky" tone is liable to wear out its welcome quickly, but for the time being the cast is charming and there are chuckles, if not outright laughs, to be had. Oh, but please: no more self-indulgent cameos from exec pro-doucher Ashton Kutcher.
Not into it enough to catch up on the first season, but it's something to TiVo during the summer.
Because Top Chef is only on once a week.
Pure joy. [via sixfoot6.com]
Giving it a shot, even though the pilot was chintzy, inauthentic and unfocused.
Why does every episode of this show feel like it's ninety minutes long? The fate of the free world doesn't rest on sketch comedy. The fate of network television doesn't rest on sketch comedy. Nevertheless, nice try. Welcome back, Matthew Perry. And welcome, period, Amanda Peet. Enjoy it while it lasts, whatever it is.
Numerous personal recommendations, an EW cover story and an iTunes binge have made me a convert. I'll Netflix the rest while awaiting Season 3.
I want to like this show.
Me and you and everyone we know.
Almost mind-alteringly not-shitty for a Showtime serial. In fact it's so not-shitty that HBO should probably trade Big Love for it just to restore the cosmic premium cable balance. (PS. Also surprisingly not-shitty for anything—live action—featuring Hank Azaria.)