Oprah Winfrey’s OWN isn’t working for the simple reason that Oprah herself seems passé.
Why opine on this subject now? Because the news is all over the place this week that losses are mounting at OWN.
Among other places, a front-page story in the Wall Street Journal says Discovery has sunk $312 million into OWN with no predictions of profitability except for a lukewarm forecast that losses are expected to continue through 2012.
So has Oprah lost her touch? In a word, yes. How? Well, that’s always hard to say. For some, the decline in her influence stems from the repetitive statements she issues continually, in public appearances and interviews, about “her journey” and “her mission” and her “legacy.” Truth be told, it all feels tired, not to mention off-putting.
It also comes across as self-centered and egotistical, as if the viewing audience has some kind of stake in helping to ensure Oprah Winfrey achieves fulfillment in her “journey” and accomplishes her “mission,” which has something to do with empowerment and living one’s “best life” and yada yada yada.
Taken together, the shows on OWN play like the TV equivalent of having to eat your spinach. And here’s an observation I once made about self-help: I once was acquainted with a guy whose bookshelves in his New York City apartment were filled with self-help books — perhaps the most I’d seen in any one place that had been purchased over the years by a single person.
Perhaps he was sincere in his search for guidance when he bought these books, but I was fairly certain he hadn’t read very many of them. More than likely, he read part of them, perhaps the introduction and first chapter, and then never finished them. Why? Because self-help books, like self-help TV shows, are decidedly unentertaining (is that a word?). In fact, I can say from personal experience with the few self-help books I have tried to read that reading them is a chore.
Try watching “Oprah’s Life Class” — yes, a “class” about “life” led by Oprah, with the assistance of some guest motivational speaker — and you’ll see what I mean.
When you really stop and look at it, there never really was any evidence, much less a guarantee, that Oprah Winfrey could build an entire TV network from the ground up in the first place. She was hugely successful in a variety of endeavors in the TV business, but launching an entire network was not on her resume.
Oh, yes, there was plenty of evidence that Oprah was capable of making a lot of money for herself and anyone who had the good fortune to go into business with her. She’d done so with her syndicated daytime show, which probably generated — what? — a billion dollars or more over its 25 years. And she added to that sum with the other daytime shows and personalities she championed and developed — Dr. Phil, Dr. Oz, Rachael Ray.
But even more than those successes, the impression that Oprah could mine gold from virtually anything she touched began to form long ago, when her (seemingly) off-the-cuff endorsements of exotic soaps or artisanal popcorn could make the entrepreneurs behind these products suddenly flush with orders, not to mention money.
Nothing represented Oprah’s power in this regard more than her impact on the book business. Sure, that was fun while it lasted, especially if you were the publisher of some book Oprah just happened to read recently and then mention on her talk show.
But like afternoon talk shows, the book business has changed a lot in the last few years. Who knows if Oprah could drive book sales today, when books themselves are looking more and more passé.
Certainly, a prominent TV personality falling victim to changing tastes is no crime, especially if you’re Oprah and already a billionaire. You know, most people don’t get a chance to strike it rich twice in a lifetime. And it could be that Oprah’s best life was the life she had when she dominated daytime TV for one hour every afternoon.
Now, those halcyon days are gone, and it appears increasingly unlikely that Oprah will be able to return to anything resembling them anytime soon.
REMEMBER WHEN: The marriage of Don (Jon Hamm) and Betty Draper (January Jones) was imperfect, but that was the whole point. (Photo: AMC)
By ADAM BUCKMAN
What’s wrong with “Mad Men” this season?
A couple of things, actually, but most notably: The defunct marriage of Don and Betty Draper, which, once upon a time, was the very heart of this show.
It’s gone and with it goes one of the great reasons for watching this show.
This finally occurred to me after watching the first two lifeless weeks of the new, fifth season of “Mad Men,” which is gracing us with its critically acclaimed presence after disappearing for 18 months.
The marriage of Betty and Don (January Jones and Jon Hamm) was once the centerpiece of this show. It was what the show was about, principally, whenever you’d try and describe it concisely.
What’s “Mad Men” about? you’d be asked. And you’d answer something like: Well, it’s about this guy, Don Draper, a quintessential Madison Avenue “ad man” of the 1960s struggling to balance his dual lives — one as a swashbuckling white-collar professional in midtown Manhattan, and the other as a family man with a pretty wife and two children who live far from the madding crowd in leafy Westchester.
And it didn’t hurt that the ad man and his wife were like the living, breathing versions of Ken and Barbie — perfection on the outside, while inwardly, they existed in a marriage fraught with tension. He was concealing his various extramarital affairs, though she had her suspicions; and she was feeling unfulfilled and lonely as a home-bound suburban housewife.
Even when Don’s affairs became known to Betty, it may have been possible to preserve the marriage, at least for the sake of the show. So what if that would make an already tense marriage even more tense. Tension happens to be a terrific ingredient to have around when you’re concocting a drama series for TV.
Now, with the two of them divorced and remarried to others, that whole situation’s been tossed out the window. Moreover, Don married a young, comely co-worker — which does away with another essential part of Don’s lifestyle: His ability to freely pursue his extramarital relationships in New York City, untethered and unobserved by his wife (in the era long before cellphones). Are we really supposed to believe that Don’s done with his philandering? And if he is, then is that part of the show now gone too?
It reminds me a little bit of “The Sopranos,” coincidentally a show on which “Mad Men” creator Matthew Weiner once worked. “The Sopranos” was also about a guy who struggled to balance his home life and “business” life, but in this case, he was a Mafia don who sought the help of a psychiatrist because he had deep-seated issues with his over-bearing mother.
But then, the actress who played the mother, Nancy Marchand, unfortunately died and Tony Soprano’s mother died with her. Of course, the show persisted after that, but the principal reason for telling Tony’s story in the first place was gone, and the show was never the same.
As if doing away with Don and Betty’s marriage wasn’t enough, now the makers of “Mad Men” have even done way with Betty — turning perhaps the most beautiful actress on TV into an overweight suburban housewife. Sure, I understand the storyline behind it, but is this storyline worth doing that to January Jones?
What else is wrong with “Mad Men,” three episodes into the new season (yes, that two-hour premiere night counted as episodes 501 and 502)?
A couple of things gleaned from Episode 503 last Sunday (April 1):
Some things just aren’t ringing true: The pot smoking, for example. Sure, we all know, or simply assume, that the 1960s saw a big rise in casual marijuana smoking, but mostly among the college generation. But for two consecutive weeks now, actual grownups have been seen smoking joints within full view of colleagues from work — most recently Harry Crane (Rich Sommer) backstage at the Stones’ concert last Sunday, and a week earlier, Ken Cosgrove (Aaron Staton), who casually mentioned that he’d like to go and smoke some “tea” at Don and Megan’s party.
Was casual pot-smoking of this kind really so sociably acceptable among actual adults in 1966? Though I’m no expert on this, that doesn’t seem accurate to me. It seems to me that for men like Don Draper, witnessing a colleague smoking dope in the 1960s would have raised suspicions that that co-worker was some kind of a druggie. That’s how “drugs” — even pot — were perceived back then, or so I’ve long thought.
Roger used a line in a conversation with Peggy Olson (Elisabeth Moss) that didn’t seem true to its era either. It was when he was instructing Peggy to make sure she hires a male copywriter for an open position on the Mohawk Airlines account. “Someone with a penis,” he said, describing the client’s preference.
Well, that sounds more like what a TV writer would compose for a character speaking in the present day. Certainly, the line was written for Roger Sterling (John Slattery) as an example of his own casual, crass chauvinism. But somehow I doubt a man in the 1960s would have put it that way. He just would have said Peggy needs to hire a man and that would be that. It’s today’s world in which the word “penis” is used with that kind of abandon (particularly on television, as a matter of fact). The usage here in “Mad Men” strikes me as careless writing.
Speaking of careless writing that should have been edited: The crack Betty’s husband, the political operative Henry Francis (Christopher Stanley), made about George Romney, then governor of Michigan and the father of the 2012 Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney, was completely out of place and ill-considered. Why? Because we viewers all know that it represented a dig at Mitt Romney on the part of “Mad Men’s” writers and producers.
The line came when Henry, who apparently works for New York Mayor John Lindsay, told someone on the phone that he didn’t want Mayor Lindsay photographed with Gov. Romney at some sort of public appearance. “Romney’s a clown and I don’t want him standing next to him!” Henry declares.
Here’s why the line should not have been used: Because it makes us, the viewers, suddenly think of the present day while we’re supposed to be immersed in the world of 1966. For that reason alone, the producers should have resisted the temptation to include it.
And it should go without saying, but I’ll say it anyway: It was also an obnoxious political viewpoint — again, with contemporary implications — inserted into a TV show where it had no business being inserted.
I could go on about all the things wrong with “Mad Men” this season. But I’ll save them for next week. And who knows? Maybe the show will be back in top form this Sunday. And wouldn’t that be great?
TRAGEDY and COMEDY: Peter Dinklage ("Game of Thrones," left) and Warwick Davis ("Life's Too Short") have 'em covered for HBO. (Photos: HBO)
By ADAM BUCKMAN
Who else but your humble TV Howl correspondent would notice that, as one dwarf actor leaves the “stage” at HBO, another arrives to take his place?
The two little people in question: Warwick Davis — 42, 3’6″ star of “Life’s Too Short,” the seven-episode comedy from Ricky Gervais that ended its first season last Sunday on HBO; and Peter Dinklage, also 42, 4’5″ star of “Game of Thrones,” the drama about warring factions in something resembling England in the Middle Ages that returns for its second season this Sunday night (April 1) on HBO.
Why point out this unique and no doubt coincidental “changing of the guard” (as it were)? No reason except that it gives me a chance to give “Life’s Too Short” some ink here. And, to a lesser extent, “Game of Thrones” too.
I have no idea how many people tuned in for all seven episodes of “Life’s Too Short,” but I did and I loved every jaw-dropping moment of it. This show was so “wrong” in its political incorrectness that I found myself wondering if Gervais had merely proposed it to HBO almost as a joke to see if they would say yes, simply because the folks at HBO like being in business with him.
And then the joke was on him because they did say yes. So he and Stephen Merchant then had to actually produce this thing. What they made was a “reality” spoof that had Davis starring as himself in a mock documentary about his life as a dwarf actor who had appeared in a number of movies with famous titles (parts of “Star Wars” and the “Harry Potter” series, to name two of them).
But in the show, he was seen struggling to find work despite those credits, while also trying to make his way in a world configured for bigger people. If you missed this show, you missed incredible cameo appearances by Liam Neeson, Helena Bonham Carter, Sting (especially him) and Johnny Depp (especially him too). (What are you waiting for? Go watch it on On Demand.)
And you missed Warwick — a dwarf, mind you, who’s making fun of what it’s like to be a dwarf — doing the kind of slapstick, physical comedy that hasn’t been seen since the silent era: Stumbling out of his SUV, climbing a bookcase to reach a trophy in one unforgettable scene, falling backward in his chair onto the floor of a restaurant and taking the tablecloth and dishes with him.
Much of “Life’s Too Short” was so painful to watch that you just sat there and thought, How on earth are they getting away with this? In the season’s final scene, Warwick, penniless and homeless, was seen bunking in a friend’s dresser drawer. I can’t wait for season two — if there is one.
Meanwhile, along comes Dinklage, who steals every scene in which he appears in “Game of Thrones.” I’m a latecomer to this baffling, sprawling series about various factions of warriors and their kings who are all maneuvering into clashes with one another like some giant chess game.
But in the season premiere airing Sunday — which I got to see in advance the other day — Dinklage emerged as the most riveting character in the whole thing. And that’s saying a lot because this is the kind of series that’s well-populated with serious actors — the kind of people whose bearing and voices suggest some sort of classical training on the British stage.
Not Dinklage, though. He’s from New Jersey.
OK, so HBO has two dwarf actors appearing in consecutive series. Does this mean anything? How should I know?
You’ve heard of a subway hijacking (at least in the movies)? Well, in this case, the shoe’s on the other foot: Subway has hijacked “Community.”
Or maybe “hijacked” is too strong a word because this wasn’t exactly a hostile takeover. It was a business deal, with NBC agreeing to give the omnipresent sandwich chain an omnipresence in tonight’s episode of the Joel McHale sitcom.
It’s one of the most grandiose “product-placement” arrangements ever staged. This one is so long, and so sustained — establishing a presence, and a plotline, for Subway throughout the entire half-hour — that it actually goes way beyond categorization as a mere “product placement.”
If that’s all it was, maybe we’d see a student or two in the Greendale Community College cafeteria tucking into a couple of foot-longs. But in this Subway hijacking, the sandwich chain opens a shop smack dab in the middle of the cafeteria. And the “owner/manager” is a guy who legally changed his name to Subway.
That way, the sandwich shop’s name — already visible on a huge sign stretching across half the cafeteria — can be mentioned in practically every scene. And when the Subway name isn’t being uttered, various characters are fondly fist-bumping each other and wryly reciting the two-word slogan for Subway, “Eat fresh.”
While Subway dominates the episode, two other corporations get on-air script mentions as well – Bed Bath & Beyond, and Brita, the water filter company.
On the latter “opportunity”: This one was probably inevitable because it plays on a character’s name, Britta, played by Gillian Jacobs.
Subway is emerging this season as a kind of champion of in-show advertising. In January, three characters in “Hawaii Five-0″ on CBS took a break from police work to have a lengthy conversation about the health benefits of Subway sandwiches. This Subway scene stopped the episode in its tracks, though it’s reasonable to assume that CBS made a lot of money on it.
And a friend mentioned the other day that Subway also had an in-show presence on Tuesday night’s “Biggest Loser” on NBC (though this kind of sponsorship has long been a staple of unscripted shows — from “Project Runway” to “The Apprentice”).
But this Subway hijacking of “Community” is the most blatant such thing I’ve seen.
When these things arise, the question always is: So what’s wrong with it?
It’s really comes down to this: TV is already overrun by commercials that come in ever-greater quantities and with increased frequency these days. With so many commercials to deal with already, do we really have to have them within the shows too? I mean — really?
This episode of “Community” airs at 8 p.m. eastern, Thursday (March 29) on NBC.
'Mad' men (l-r): Don Draper (Jon Hamm), Pete Campbell (Vincent Kartheiser), Roger Sterling (John Slattery), Lane Pryce (Jared Harris) (Photos: AMC)
By ADAM BUCKMAN
Here’s a surprise about this Sunday’s season premiere of “Mad Men” that might spoil the show for you: It’s terrible.
Yes, I know — it’s a shocker. It might even be the first time any critic anywhere has ever used the word “terrible” to describe “Mad Men,” but there it is. Sorry.
I hate to spoil a viewing experience for anyone, especially for a show whose return (after more than 18 months away) seems so highly anticipated. But I can’t help myself: For the first time in my own personal history with this show, stretching back to its glorious beginnings in summer 2007, I was bored stiff watching the two-hour premiere that AMC sent over for preview.
The DVD came with a “letter” from the show’s creator and executive producer, Matthew Weiner, who requested, politely, that critics who view the preview DVD please refrain from revealing various plot points and other developments that might spoil the experience for the show’s fans. Well, Matt, your secrets are safe with me because nothing much happens in these two hours anyway.
I’ll tell you what happened to me when I was watching it, though: Some time during a lengthy party sequence (yes, there’s a party in the show — I hope that revelation doesn’t spoil the “experience” for anyone), I realized that I couldn’t have been more bored, and have rarely been so bored, in the process of watching a TV show. And since it was “Mad Men,” which once upon a time was one of the finest, most electrifying TV series ever produced, this surprising onset of extreme ennui came as a huge shock.
I was so disappointed in what happened to this show that I started contemplating some of the words I might eventually use to describe it in this blogpost. And besides “terrible” and “boring,” another one came to mind that is even worse: “Disaster.”
Before continuing, here’s a caveat: By all means, watch the two-hour premiere (it starts at 9/8c on Sunday, March 25, on AMC). And you are more than welcome to enjoy it too. You just might love it. But I have a feeling many will not.
And that’s where the word “disaster” comes in. The last thing an arty TV series like this needs is to come back on the air after an 18-plus-month absence and then bore its core audience to death. However, that outcome is a distinct possibility.
Why? Well, to delve fully into those reasons might involve revealing details and plot points that Matthew Weiner might not want divulged. So I’ll try and work around them.
Generally speaking, the whole thing seemed listless, sloppy and predictable.
In the listless department, the aforementioned party is exhibit A. At just about the time I looked at my watch for the first time ever in the viewing of “Mad Men,” I realized that this party had begun to resemble an old Dutch still-life, with the guests standing or sitting around doing nothing. At such times, you rely on a literate series such as “Mad Men” to entertain you with dialogue. That didn’t happen either in this scene or any other in the two-hour show.
The party took place at a new Manhattan apartment apparently purchased between seasons Four and Five by Don Draper (Jon Hamm). And at this point in this blog post, I was tempted to reveal what happened with Don and his new love, Megan (Jessica Paré). Remember her? She was a secretary in the ad agency in Season Four. As that season came to a close way back on Oct. 17, 2010, she and Don were in love and he asked her to marry him. (Forgot about that? That’s understandable since it was 18-1/4 months ago.) In his letter to critics, Matthew Weiner asked that we not divulge what happened there. And like the good sport I am, I humbly acquiesce.
Anyway, like so many of the settings in this marathon “Mad Men” fifth-season premiere, Don’s new digs look more like a stage set than a New York apartment. And so does the office of the ad agency, Sterling Cooper Draper and Pryce. It’s immaculate, like it’s a display at Ikea or one of those Design Within Reach stores, where they sell knockoffs of iconic mid-century furniture designs. One thing it doesn’t look like: A Manhattan office where work is performed.
It doesn’t sound like one either. If you watch the show, try and observe the sound made when people walk around — most notably in the SCDP offices. Even petite Elisabeth Moss (who plays Peggy Olson) can be heard clomping around like she’s wearing army boots. That’s because the floors give off a sound like they’re hollow, like a stage set, but not at all like the floors in a Manhattan office building. They’re usually concrete.
Speaking of architecture, one character refers to an architectural feature in one of the SCDP offices as a “beam” when it is actually a column. That’s sloppy writing. Rule of thumb: Beams go across ceilings; columns are those things that go up and down.
And as far as this show’s predictability goes, that can be a problem when a series such as this — one that is about 95 percent character development and about 5 percent plot — has been around for four seasons and is starting its fifth. We already know so much about the personalities of the principal characters — warts and all — that everything they do in this two-hour premiere seems old hat.
In his “letter” to critics, Matthew Weiner implored us not to divulge plot points that could ruin any surprises for those tuning in on Sunday to herald “Mad Men’s” return. The thing is: The only surprise I experienced in the season premiere was my own disappointment.
Well, HBO keeps going back to him, despite the pay-cable channel’s uneven track record with the critically acclaimed producer/writer of TV shows people either love or hate.
Milch’s latest creation, the HBO horse-racing series “Luck,” made television history last week when it was abruptly cancelled due to the deaths of three horses during the filming of the show. The latest, an accident in which a horse fatally injured itself while being walked back to its stall (it was euthanized), happened last Tuesday.
A day later, HBO made the stunning announcement: Production on “Luck” was being shut down for good.
The show was in the midst of filming one of the early episodes in its second season, even as the first season was still underway. “Luck,” airing Sunday nights at 9 on HBO, has its second-to-last episode on Sunday (March 18) and its final, first-season episode — now its last episode ever — the following weekend (March 25). Only nine episodes were made for the first season, and HBO was so excited about the show (for, among other reasons, it had succeeded in luring Dustin Hoffman to star in his first TV show) that the cable channel renewed it for a second season almost immediately after the very first episode aired back in late January.
Now, that’s not going to happen as “Luck” goes into the history books as the first TV series ever cancelled due to the deaths of animals used in its production.
In the wake of this week’s cancellation announcement, two subjects to contemplate: (1) Will “Luck” be missed? And (2) what of David Milch, the bard of Buffalo (the New York city where he was raised), for whom “Luck” was his fourth go-round with HBO (that we know of)?
First, on the merits of “Luck”: Like Milch’s other shows, this one was an acquired taste. And according to at least one report we read the other day, “Luck” drew more than a million viewers for its premiere and then, eventually, the audience fell to about half that. The story even suggested HBO was seeking an excuse to cancel “Luck,” and the unlucky horses provided the reason the channel needed to pull the plug. That’s just conjecture, but my take is: That’s not a far-fetched scenario at all.
Why’d so many people abandon the show? For the love/hate reason suggested above. The thing people love about Milch’s shows, primarily, is the intriguing, highly literate dialogue he writes for his characters. Lovers of great writing appreciate when his characters engage in his trademark verbal sparring, even when they go off on irrelevant tangents, such as last week’s out-of-left-field conversation in which two characters debated the details of the Three Stooges’ “Niagara Falls” comedy bit.
The unusual tone and tempo of the dialogue is also why millions get turned off by Milch. For one thing, it’s not what they’re used to hearing on TV shows. For another, his shows often suffer from an action deficit. Often, you go entire episodes without much happening. Instead, the hour is sucked up by dialogues that, yes, are very creative, but also stultifying.
That was the thing with “Luck”: The acting was great, for the most part (Hoffman, Michael Gambon, Jason Gedrick, Joan Allen, Dennis Farina, Jill Hennessy and all the rest), the horse-racing scenes were electrifying, and the cinematography was beautiful. Still, not much happened. And that’s a turn-off for many. (Why include the phrase “for the most part” above? Because the one cast member I didn’t care for was Nick Nolte, who played a gravel-voiced horse trainer.)
As for Milch, his track record with HBO is fascinating: First, there was “Deadwood,” everyone’s favorite Western series and the one that changed forever our perceptions of how the Old West should be portrayed from here on out. Well, that series got cancelled suddenly before Milch had planned to end it, and fans howled in protest. HBO promised some future “Deadwood” TV movies, but no one believed that, and indeed, they never happened.
Then there was Milch’s one-season series about a dysfunctional family of southern California surfers and their interactions with a godlike alien – “John From Cincinnati.” For most people, that show was even less accessible than “Luck.” (But again, like with all Milch shows, opinions vary widely. I happened to love “John From Cincinnati” and consider it to be one of the finest TV shows ever produced. Go figure.)
He then tried his hand at another cop show (he’d long been associated with “NYPD Blue” on ABC) called “Last of the Ninth” (referring to the Ninth Precinct of the NYPD). He produced a pilot for HBO, but the network declined. Then they said yes to “Luck” and that show bit the dust because of dead animals.
Will HBO take up any new business with Milch after all of this? Well, it’s not his fault the horses died, but on this question, as with all Milch questions, there are two camps: Those who love him hope HBO will try again with him. Those who can’t stand his shows won’t mourn the passing of “Luck.”
If you’ve been following “Luck” up to this point, I suggest you carry it through to the end, even though the March 25 finale does not serve as a series ender. Truth is, you only really have to expend two more hours with this star-crossed show. And then it’s good-bye and good luck to “Luck.”
“Luck” airs Sunday nights at 9/8c on HBO (for two more weeks, alas).
Ed Harris as John McCain and Julianne Moore as Sarah Palin in HBO's "Game Change." (Photo: HBO)
By ADAM BUCKMAN
Let’s try and set the record straight on this HBO Sarah Palin movie called “Game Change,” which you’ve no doubt been reading about lately.
TV critics are hailing the movie, in which Julianne Moore plays Palin, in much the same way that they reacted to a previous HBO movie about another presidential campaign — the 2008 made-for-TV movie called “Recount” about the Bush-Gore Florida debacle of 2000. Both movies were written by Danny Strong and directed by Jay Roach. Then, as now, the critics are enthusiastic about “Game Change” and, in particular, Moore’s performance.
Of course, any TV movie that purports to portray Sarah Palin will come to TV laden with controversy. And that rule of thumb certainly applies to “Game Change,” which premieres on HBO on Saturday night (March 10) at 9/8c.
As with any TV dramatization adapted from real events (or, as in this case, a non-fiction book about real events), your enjoyment of “Game Change” might depend on whether or not you accept its portrayal of Sarah Palin. And this movie’s depiction of Palin is downright brutal.
It’s the Sarah Palin of summer and fall 2008, when she skyrocketed to instant fame as John McCain’s surprise pick to join his ticket as the Republican candidate for vice president. The movie focuses primarily on three characters — McCain (played by Ed Harris), Palin, and McCain campaign advisor Steve Schmidt (played by Woody Harrelson with his usual intensity).
In the movie, which I watched the other day on a preview DVD provided by HBO, Harris puts his own usual intensity on hold to portray McCain as an F-word spewing candidate who seems to prefer that his staff do most of the heavy lifting in the management of his own presidential campaign.
Harris doesn’t really try for out-and-out mimickry in his portrayal of McCain, but that wasn’t the case with Moore. She nails Palin in all the crucial areas — her voice, her body language, her hair, makeup and wardrobe. Moore’s portrayal of Palin is the great performance of this movie, and the primary reason to watch it in the first place. She’s almost certain to be nominated for an Emmy and she’ll probably win it.
Her transformation into Palin was so complete that I couldn’t help but think of Meryl Streep playing Margaret Thatcher in “The Iron Lady.” That was a richer role, but the two challenges were essentially the same: How to become another person so completely that you forget about the actress. Among many great moments in “Game Change,” one of our favorites was when Moore, costumed as Palin, watched Tina Fey on “Saturday Night Live” playing Palin. It is a great moment in television.
Having said all that, the portrayal is savage. This movie posits that Palin the candidate was an uneducated, inarticulate, head-strong egomaniac who knew next to nothing about history, geography, international relations or domestic affairs. Moreover, according to the movie, when the pressures of running for national office mounted, she caved emotionally. Basically, the movie depicts Palin as a blithering idiot who couldn’t take the heat.
Is the portrayal true? Well, it is based on a book – “Game Change: Obama and the Clintons, McCain and Palin, and the Race of a Lifetime” by journalists John Heilemann and Mark Halperin — and it’s the kind of book you assume is factual.
The book was about the Democratic and Republican campaigns that ended with Barack Obama’s victory — and all the people involved in the many dramas that took place that year. And yet, the movie focuses only on the Palin/McCain drama.
“That book had several movies in it,” says executive producer Gary Goetzman in a video HBO produced to promote the movie. “So we picked a piece of the book to make this movie.” You can interpret that statement in any of two ways (or possibly more): (1) For the sake of producing a tightly focused two-hour telemovie, the producers had to pick one of the book’s many stories and restrict the movie to telling that tale, or (2) the producers have it in for Palin. I suspect there’s more to item (1) than item (2) here, but just the same, both interpretations are probably valid.
Sarah Palin herself has said recently that she hasn’t seen the movie and doesn’t plan on watching it (though I expect she won’t be able to resist giving it at least a wee peek Saturday night, assuming she subscribes to HBO).
Love it or hate it, this movie is too fascinating to dismiss, or miss.
Billy Crystal is being criticized for appearing in costume as Sammy Davis Jr. in the elaborate pre-produced bit that opened the Oscar telecast Sunday night on ABC.
What are the critics complaining about? His face — specifically, the dark makeup Billy used to complete his impersonation of Sammy.
In the aftermath of the Oscars, the makeup is producing accusations that Billy was doing a racist, “blackface” impersonation of the late, legendary entertainer, who was African-American (and also Jewish).
The Hollywood Reporter has a rundown — here — of the “controversy” and the handful of critics whose Tweets appear to have ignited this mini-firestorm.
For example, a blog identified as “Feministing” declared, “Blackface is not okay, ever.” And from this thin gruel are “controversies” made these days.
My own opinion is that this “firestorm” doesn’t hold water, but more on that in a moment.
First, the background: Billy turned up in costume as Sammy Davis in the portion of that opening bit that spoofed the Woody Allen movie “Midnight in Paris.” “Sammy” appeared in a vintage limousine with Justin Bieber (the real one).
The choice was apparently made to include Billy’s “Sammy” character simply because it’s a character he was famous for doing on “Saturday Night Live” when he was a cast member in 1984-85. Back then, as now, the characterization required dark makeup. (It’s also worth noting that Billy impersonated Muhammad Ali and Prince on “SNL”; in fact, it was his impression of Ali that made him famous as a young comedian in the 1970s.)
In the wake of Sunday’s “Sammy” appearance on the Oscar show, these “critics” have dealt Billy the “blackface” card. “Blackface” refers to a practice with roots in 19th-century forms of popular entertainment in which white stage performers blackened their faces with burnt cork or shoe polish to portray African-Americans in ways that often weren’t exactly flattering (and if that’s an understatement, then unlike the Twitterers, I admit right up front I’m not an expert on this subject, though there are plenty of places to learn about it in books and on the Internet).
The “blackface” practice probably reached its zenith when Al Jolson, considered by many to be one of the most electrifying entertainers who ever lived, donned the dark makeup in the early decades of the 20th century to sing songs such as “Mammy,” which certainly wouldn’t fly today.
Cut to the present day: And now, Billy Crystal is being accused of racist “blackfacing” as if he’s been caught barnstorming the country in a minstrel show.
I happen to think this mini-controversy is baloney for several reasons. For one thing, Billy Crystal has never demonstrated any sort of bias against African-Americans or anyone else, as far I can recall. In addition, when it comes to Sammy Davis Jr. in particular, he seems to have adored the man — as I learned earlier this month when Billy talked at length about Sammy on Showtime’s “Inside Comedy,” the show on which David Steinberg interviews top comedians about their craft.
Billy told an incredibly affectionate story about Sammy from the days when Billy opened for Sammy in Lake Tahoe (and probably other places). You could tell that Billy had nothing but love and respect for Sammy. Certainly, how Sammy felt about Billy’s impersonation of him on “SNL” remains an open question (one biography of Sammy that I own – “In Black and White: The Life of Sammy Davis Jr.” by Wil Haygood – doesn’t report on Sammy’s reaction but speculates that he may have felt forced to accept it because of his own history of doing impersonations; Davis died in 1990).
The last thing I’ll say about this is: I think the people criticizing Billy for “blackfacing” are being awfully selective here. I’m pretty sure Fred Armisen has to tint his face a bit to play Barack Obama on “SNL” (and, in a recent sketch, Prince), but we haven’t seen any “blackface” accusations thrown his way.
In addition, Robert Downey Jr. was criticized by some for applying dark-face makeup for the 2008 movie “Tropic Thunder.” But that “controversy” died down and was soon forgotten.
My prediction: The same thing will happen with this Crystal controversy too.
It will go down as one of the biggest debacles in the history of television — a hugely expensive flop that NBC hoped would trigger a turnaround in its low-rated prime-time lineup.
That hasn’t happened so far with “Smash,” but even more importantly, it’s not ever going to happen. Three weeks into its run, it’s tanking.
Here’s the rundown:
In its premiere (Monday nights at 10) the night after the Super Bowl when it got promoted like crazy (see story below), it drew 11.44 million total viewers, and scored a 3.8 rating in the “young” demo, 18-49.
In Week Two (Feb. 13): 8.06 million viewers, 2.8 in the demo.
In Week Three (Feb. 20): 6.47 million, 2.3.
Here’s the thing about ratings: The trends are just as important as the numbers. And downward trends don’t usually reverse themselves. In fact, to be even more blunt, they almost never do.
Instead, they just indicate the obvious: Viewers are abandoning “Smash.” They’re simply not finding it enjoyable enough to return the following week to see what happens. And that means the show is toast. It will probably stay on until its season ends in May, but don’t hold your breath waiting for Season Two next fall because you’ll suffocate.
Why did it fail?
Here are a few reasons:
The show was one big cliche: They should have just named it “TV Show: The Musical” — that’s how generic this thing was. Here’s a litany of some of the cliches this tired show trafficked in: The dream of Broadway stardom (more on this below), a musical about Marilyn Monroe (c’mon, really?), and the macho, authoritarian director who tries to seduce the young female contestants for the lead role in his show by laying some line on them about how they must free themselves from their inhibitions. Excuse me for bluntly leveling an accusation here with no proof, but that one came straight out of “Black Swan” (which did it a whole lot better).
Nobody cares about Broadway: At least not in numbers sufficient to support a TV series that is supposed to draw the kind of viewership that is supposed to save an entire network. Sure, the tourists flock to the shows in and around Times Square, but that’s because they’re in New York — it’s one of the things you do when you come here.
It’s a lot of fun too, and Broadway, generally speaking, is very profitable these days. But that’s because of the peculiar characteristics of Broadway and its shows — they’re live, they’re in theaters, and they’re something you do so that when you go back home, you can tell your friends and neighbors that you saw a Broadway show while you were in New York.
A TV show about Broadway is just not the same thing at all.
It’s almost a certainty that the decision-makers who said yes to “Smash” went through a thought process that went something like this: They observed the crowds in Times Square just before curtain time and noted what they read about box-office receipts. Then they considered how many aspirational talent shows are on TV nowadays, from “American Idol” and “The Voice” to “Glee.” So they decided they would make a drama series combining all these elements (in the hope that high ratings would become their version of robust ticket sales).
That didn’t happen, for the simple reason that Broadway shows are for viewing once or twice in a lifetime on a rare trip to New York City, not for watching every Monday night at home.
Of course, I could have told them this, but nobody asked me. On the other hand, what do I know? Before it premiered, I predicted that “Smash” would be an 8 million-viewer show. I was correct where the series’ second episode was concerned, but in Week Three, “Smash” proved me wrong. How wrong? That all depends on how low it goes next week.
NBC smashed its way to victory in the ratings Monday night — a huge turnaround for the network on a night where it suffered mightily all season.
The reason: A one-two punch of series that were highly promoted during the Super Bowl – “The Voice” and “Smash.” It was a promotion ploy that paid off — promoting both shows during the big game that was watched by 111 million people, and also premiering the new season of “The Voice” directly following the game on Sunday night.
By the time Monday rolled around, America was apparently ready to check in with “The Voice” for a second consecutive night, and also primed to sample “Smash,” the widely promoted Broadway drama that NBC hopes will ignite a comeback for the entire network in the ratings.
Well, the jury’s still out on whether “Smash” will revive NBC’s entire lineup, and it also won’t be known ’til next Monday if this week’s “Smash” viewers will return next week. But for now, NBC execs are likely popping champagne corks over the 11.498 million viewers the “Smash” premiere drew at 10/9c Monday night. While they had probably hoped for an even bigger audience on opening night, that number is far, far better than anything NBC had aired previously in any time slot on Mondays this season, including shows such as “Chuck,” the ill-fated “Playboy Club” and the Brian Williams news magazine “Rock Center.”
And the news for “The Voice” was even better. The talent-competition series found itself in “American Idol” and “Dancing With the Stars” territory Monday night with a two-hour average from 8 p.m. to 10 p.m. (7-9c) of 17.686 million viewers, according to the Nielsen overnights — the kind of audience tally for a regular series that NBC hasn’t seen in years. It also bears mentioning that the “Voice” numbers far outpaced Simon Cowell’s “X Factor” on Fox earlier this season. In fact, the second hour of “The Voice” Monday night drew a monster-sized audience Simon can only dream about: 19.295 million.
That figure was more than enough to clobber the usually dominant sitcoms on CBS – “Two and a Half Men” at 9/8c (which drew 12.898 million Monday night) and “Mike & Molly” at 9:30/8:30c (11.015 million).
NBC won every prime-time hour Monday night. Among the other shows on the other networks, “The Bachelor” on ABC averaged only 8.243 million viewers over its two hours (8-10/7-9c).
NBC finally made it official Thursday morning: Howard Stern’s been hired as the third judge on “America’s Got Talent,” replacing the departed Piers Morgan. Stern will be seen on the show starting next summer.
There are likely many people who are scratching their heads over this hire, people who don’t see how on earth Howard Stern, the notorious radio personality whose conversations with guests on his Sirius XM radio show are often X-rated, will now be seen on one of our biggest TV networks in a show that, if nothing else, is suitable for the whole family.
Sure, on the face of it, he doesn’t seem compatible with this show at all. But, in fact, he’s a great choice. Here’s why and how it happened:
1) Stern’s adaptable: One thing many people other than his most ardent fans fail to realize — Howard Stern is a very gifted broadcaster. Whether you enjoy the subject matter of his conversations on the radio or not, he is still one of the best there is at talking, which, believe it or not, is a skill that only a few have. And among his skills is this: Putting the potty talk on hold when it’s necessary to do so — on late-night shows, for example, and also when he used to voice commercials for sponsors of his radio show; those commercials were second-to-none. On “AGT,” Stern will clean up his act accordingly because, while I know this is difficult for many to believe, the guy is a consummate professional. Yes, it’s true.
2) NBC needed him: How badly? Enough to move heaven and earth — and the show from L.A. to New York — to get him. And it will be worth it too — Stern will not only be very entertaining week after week, but the man is an electro-magnet for media attention. His utterings on the show will be widely covered, at least initially, and “AGT” will reap the benefits in publicity. In fact, with Stern on board, there’s little reason, other than timing, why this show shouldn’t air during the regular season on NBC, instead of the summer. It would certainly do better than “The Sing-Off” or “The Biggest Loser,” competition shows that NBC had on its fall lineup this season that performed terribly in the ratings.
3) Stern “needed” this gig: Not in the sense that one “needs” a job in order to make money to support his family. Stern’s rich enough to never have to work, but I suspect that an offer like this was irresistible to Stern, if it could be arranged. Ever since he left terrestrial radio for Sirius, Stern has not been nearly the center of attention he once was in the heyday of his national morning show on old-fashioned broadcast radio. With this “AGT” gig, he gets an opportunity for exposure in what is probably the most mainstream environment of his career — a G-rated talent show on one of our major TV networks. Plus, he gets to feel relevant again, a media personality who still has the clout to get a network to roll out the red carpet for him, even though his history on television is mixed at best, and at worst, dismal.
Howard Stern on “America’s Got Talent”? Our prediction: “AGT” is now poised to become the most talked-about TV show of 2012.
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TV Howl bonus: My own misadventures with Howard Stern
From my personal memoir titled “Jerk: My Life as a Columnist on the TV Beat” by Adam Buckman (all rights reserved), Chapter 3: “The King of All Media.” Read all about it, starting right here:
Chapter Three:
The King of All Media
I.
The phone rang early on a Wednesday morning while I was still in bed. It was a producer from Howard Stern’s radio show. He wanted to know if I would talk to Howard on the air about my column in the paper that morning.
I said no, muttered something about still being asleep, hung up and slept some more.
Meanwhile, it was 6:30 a.m. and Stern was throwing a temper tantrum. He had already spent a half-hour berating me on the radio …
CALIFORNIA DREAMIN': Adrian Grenier in "Entourage" (Photo: HBO)
By ADAM BUCKMAN
HBO’s “Entourage” ended its run Sunday night with Hollywood endings for all concerned.
Well, that was a dirty trick – ending the final episode of “Entourage” with “Going to California,” Led Zeppelin’s iconic song about the lure and promise of southern Cal.
The song framed a finish full of elaborate happy endings for the show’s principal characters – four of whom were once boys from New York who followed their dreams to California and, by the looks of it Sunday night on HBO, attained them.
The Led Zeppelin song came as they were gathered in an airplane hangar preparing to take two separate private jets on trips abroad – and at least three of the five were embarking on new lives representing a newfound maturity that was not much in evidence in this fun-loving, free-wheeling show’s previous seasons and episodes.
Why was the Zeppelin song a dirty trick? Because it happens to be a beautiful song, and thus elevated a series that was never long on sentiment to something with meaning – at least for its final moments.
Of course, the neat tying up of all the show’s loose ends in one 35-minute final episode was as much of a fantasy as the way the show’s various storylines were wrapped up for each of the characters:
Vincent Chase (Adrian Grenier): After one 24-hour date with the new love of his life – the journalist Sophia Lear (Alice Eve) – Vince declared they would marry that very evening in Paris, bought a ring for more than a million dollars and lined up a private jet to whisk everyone abroad.
Eric “E” Murphy (Kevin Connolly): Thanks to Vince’s largesse – not to mention his charismatic powers of persuasion – Sloan (Emmanuelle Chriqui) agreed to meet E at the airport for their own private jet flight anywhere in the world. With Sloan already pregnant with their child, we’re left to assume they will live happily ever after.
Ari Gold (Jeremy Piven): Ari did the unthinkable: He threw over his job as co-owner of the most powerful talent agency in Hollywood – the occupation that always seemed as vital to his survival as the blood coursing through his veins – in order to reconcile with Mrs. Ari (Perrey Reeves). With the help of a young trio of Italian opera singers, the gambit worked and Mr. and Mrs. Ari joined the group for the trip to Paris.
Turtle (Jerry Ferrara) and Johnny Drama (Kevin Dillon): There were no marriages or new loves for these two – their happy endings were sealed a week earlier, with Drama getting the TV-movie role of his dreams and Turtle becoming a multimillionaire thanks to Vince’s safe-keeping of Turtle’s investment in the tequila company.
Lloyd (Rex Lee): We were glad to see that a consideration of Lloyd’s future was included in the “Entourage” finale. He was a great character and, in the end, when he fretted about what he would do at the agency without Ari to guide him, Ari told him, rightfully, that he possesses all the tools now to go in there and make his mark in the firm – and not as an Ari clone either, but as his own man.
“Standing on a hill in my mountain of dreams . . . ” “Going to California”? Why not? I wrote back when “Entourage” began in 2004 that, at its heart, it was a series about California – specifically, southern California (by which we mean L.A. and Hollywood) – about the fantasy and the reality of the place, and how the two are sometimes difficult to distinguish.
As for the series finale, whether you buy into the neat and tidy happy endings that creator Doug Ellin and his team conjured for the episode, as a time capsule of life in La La Land in the years 2004-2011, “Entourage” got it right. And we’ll miss it.
R.I.P. Lt. Lou Shea: John Scurti in "Rescue Me" -- his character was eulogized, hilariously, on the series finale Wednesday (Photo: FX)
By ADAM BUCKMAN
The series finale of Denis Leary’s “Rescue Me” Wednesday night on FX was darn near perfect.
Tommy Gavin didn’t die. Instead, it was Lou, his best friend and perhaps the most likable of all the characters on “Rescue Me.”
A tragedy to end the firefighters’ series run? Yes, but not completely. Though Lou’s death was certainly tragic, leaving all of his surviving colleagues to question their futures in the New York City Fire Department, most of the one-hour series finale seen on FX Wednesday night played like a comedy.
That happened to be this show’s signature: Premiering in July 2004 and ending its run this week as the nation prepares to mark the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, “Rescue Me” at its heart was a drama about one New York firefighter’s reaction to the loss of 343 FDNY brethren in the collapse of the Twin Towers that day in 2001. That’s a weighty subject, to be sure, but since that firefighter, Tommy, was played by comedian Denis Leary (who also co-created, co-wrote and co-produced the series), much of the series was given over to Leary’s dark sense of humor.
Such was the case in the finale Wednesday night titled “Ashes.” The ashes in the title were all that remained of sweet Lou (played to perfection for all seven seasons by John Scurti) after he was killed a week earlier in a warehouse fire (the location recognizable to all who ride the New York subway system’s elevated No. 7 train through Long Island City in Queens). The collapse of that building left the survival of any of the firefighters in question leading into the finale.
And as the final episode began, it seemed as if at least five of them had succumbed. But no — it was a dream conjured by Gavin, a dream in which Lou was seen eulogizing the five men with a rousing speech about the nature of firefighting — a grand piece of screen-writing, by the way, as was much of this final episode.
Certainly, it had been speculated that Tommy himself would be among the dead — a novel and striking way to end a series: Having the all-important main character, who’d been seen in virtually every scene of the show for seven years, get killed off.
But it was Lou who died, and his sendoff was a masterpiece, particularly in the choreography of the sequence in which two windows in Tommy’s SUV were opened simultaneously — because Tommy ordered Franco and Black Shawn to toss out their chewing gum — and the sudden cross-ventilation caused Lou’s ashes to suddenly explode out of their box, covering driver, passengers and the entire interior of the vehicle with his earthly remains.
Then, in a perfectly balanced combination of sentiment and black comedy, Tommy poignantly read a letter left to him by Lou (in case of Lou’s death), and then tossed his “ashes” — actually a box of Betty Crocker cake mix that Lou’s brethren bought at the 11th hour to stand in for his ashes — over a cliff and into the sea (it looked like Long Island Sound).
Other scenes were laden with comedy too, such as the scene where Tommy, contemplating life as an FDNY retiree, battles with a group of parents at a politically correct playground (filmed in lower Manhattan’s Battery Park City, about half a block from the World Trade Center site) over the sharing of kids’ toys in the sandbox. Forget about “Rescue Me” — that was like a scene out of “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” only better.
In the end, Tommy didn’t retire, but nor did he assume Lou’s lieutenant’s role, which was his right as senior firefighter in the house. Instead, he let the promotion go to the gung-ho Franco.
As the episode came to a close, Franco and Tommy were seen exhorting a group of new FDNY recruits on the meaning of belonging to a select group of people of run toward and into burning buildings when everyone else is running out and away from them.
In the show’s touching last scene, Tommy was seen behind the wheel of his SUV having a jovial conversation with an old friend seated in the passenger seat — the ghost of Lou.
This episode was one of the best-written episodes of any single TV show seen in years. Our hope for Leary and his team is that they get recognized for it.
BEFORE: In this light-hearted postcard from before 9/11/2001, the World Trade Center was just another landmark on the New York City skyline. (Source: Author's collection of World Trade Center postcards.)
By ADAM BUCKMAN
NEW YORK — You can’t escape 9/11 on TV this week, though it would be nice if you could.
Turn on the tube and there it is, all served up on multiple channels so you can have the opportunity to relive the horror of that day: The visual — as impossible to believe then as it is now 10 years later — of airliners flying directly into each of the twin towers of the World Trade Center, the resultant smoke pouring out of the gaping holes after the great buildings seemed to swallow the big jets, the poor souls who chose to jump a hundred stories to their deaths rather than be burned alive, the eventual collapse of each tower and the debris clouds that overwhelmed lower Manhattan and billowed out over the Hudson River.
Want to wallow in the memory of it all? Go right ahead, but I think I’ll pass. I have no need to relive that day and the days that followed, though judging from all the special retrospective material now airing in advance of this Sunday’s 10th anniversary, plenty of people seem to have a need to relive it, and also to talk about it, to tell the rest of us where they were when it happened, what they felt then and how they feel about it now, how the terrorist sneak attacks changed “us,” and on and on.
I guess I’m not much of a wallower. I was at home when the attacks occurred, two miles up Greenwich Street from the Twin Towers. And that’s all you’re going to learn about what I experienced that day. If offered a microphone by a roving reporter from a local radio or TV station to relate my experiences for broadcast, I would politely decline. But plenty of people around here are saying yes to such invitations. If you live in New York, you’re seeing and hearing their testimony all over the place these days in commemorative segments on all the news shows and cable channel specials.
Local newscasts this week can’t go to a commercial break without a 9/11 interlude — some somber music and the words “Remembering 9/11″ on the screen, and a brief interview with some passerby who tells us how he or she was on his or her way to work downtown that day and saw the planes hit or, less dramatically, still soaking in a tub somewhere else, perhaps not anywhere near any of the 9/11 attack sites at all, hearing the shocking bulletins on the radio or TV.
These people seem to find the opportunity to tell their stories impossible to resist — a way of thinking in line with social trends. Everyone wants to tell his or her own story these days, right? So they take to Facebook and Twitter and tell everyone they know what they’re eating right now.
Not me, though. My 9/11 memories are private. My feelings about that day are too. Sorry, but it’s just nobody’s business. I’ll admit this: I’m not big on anniversaries as a basis for TV commemorations. Maybe it’s because I once had an editor, when I was at a formative age, who prohibited anniversary stories. It wasn’t real news, he’d say, whenever a reporter came to him with a pitch from a TV network publicist ballyhooing some milestone reached by a TV show — a fifth season, or a 100th episode, or the 20th consecutive week as TV’s top comedy or drama.
As news “hooks,” such milestones were contrivances unworthy of our stations as journalists. I got his point, and I agreed with it too. However, you’d be correct to point out that this 9/11 anniversary is more notable than some TV show’s fifth week as the top-rated comedy on Thursday nights.
Judging by all the hours of TV programming that have been produced for the occasion, the people running the nation’s TV stations, broadcast networks and cable channels must believe the public is eager to share in a kind of telethon of national remembrance. But you also can’t help wondering at times such as this if all the programming produced for the occasion begets all the interest, instead of the other way around.
Or, to put it another way, if TV didn’t pull out all the stops to present you with constant reminders of 9/11 this week, would you miss it?
AFTER: World Trade Center postcard from after 9/11/2001 -- the late great Twin Towers draped in elongated American flags. (Author's collection)
Sherwood Schwartz (right) and the character he created, Gilligan, played by Bob Denver.
By ADAM BUCKMAN
Spend enough years as a journalist on the same beat and it’s inevitable that many of the people you met along the way will die eventually.
And if you’ve been around as long as I have, you run the risk of beginning to sound like that scene in “The Sunshine Boys” where the only subject the elderly former comedy partners Lewis and Clark (George Burns and Walter Matthau in the 1975 movie) seem to talk about is the death of someone they knew. Maybe you remember this pointless conversation — it went something like this: “Where’d he die?” “In Variety.”
So I try and avoid these kinds of blog posts, but when Sherwood Schwartz died the other day at age 94, I somehow retrieved a dim memory of having lunch with him. And since cobwebs were forming here on TV Howl (my last post was a while ago), I decided it was time to make a new contribution.
I’m pretty sure it was in May 2000 or thereabouts — at the Waldorf Astoria, in the ballroom, where many a TV industry event is held in New York. Nick at Nite (or maybe it was TV Land) was putting on some sort of presentation of its then-new lineup of old shows. The only record I possess of this event is a photo taken backstage of Mr. T and me.
One of the only other memories of this event: Tina Yothers, formerly of “Family Ties,” singing in a rock band.
Somehow, I was assigned to the same table as Sherwood Schwartz and his wife. I dimly recall engaging him in conversation by asking him about his various shows — “Gilligan’s Island,” “The Brady Bunch,” “Dusty’s Trail.” I was particularly interested in how he arrived at the number of characters for these shows — seven for both “Gilligan” and “Dusty’s Trail” and nine for “Brady Bunch.”
I don’t recall the details, but his answer indicated that those numbers were shrewdly chosen for their versatility and potential for myriad storylines. For that’s one of the problems the producers of TV shows always come up against: Dreaming up enough stories to sustain the scenario they created through an entire season (which, in the days of “Gilligan’s Island,” was 36 episodes) or multiple seasons.
Judging by his age when he died, Schwartz must have been 82 or 83 when I met him that day. He was an energetic guy — a funny little old man. At one point during the presentation that was underway on-stage after lunch had been served and eaten, a “phone” made of coconut halves — like something the Professor would have devised on “Gilligan’s Island” — was delivered to our table.
A single spotlight then cut through the darkened ballroom and shone on Sherwood as the ringing of a phone was suddenly heard. That was apparently Sherwood’s cue to answer this “phone” and speak into it. And since the phone had a hidden microphone, Sherwood’s voice was heard over the ballroom’s speaker system saying something about “The Brady Bunch.”
I was delighted to have witnessed this “performance” from the chair right beside him. All in all, it was a great day, having my photo taken with Mr. T and then sitting beside the creator of “Gilligan’s Island” as he took a call on a coconut telephone. What more could a TV columnist ask for?
May he rest in peace.
——
TV Howl bonus sidebar: The day I met Gilligan.
Bob Denver, the titular star of “Gilligan’s Island,” told me in 1993 that he made just $1,200 a week at the height of the show’s popularity on CBS in the mid-’60s.
He claimed he wasn’t disappointed that his contract didn’t call for residual payments in perpetuity, just in case “Gilligan” enjoyed any kind of an afterlife in syndication after its initial network run ended in 1967 after three seasons.
As it happened, reruns of “Gilligan” ran for decades and would have made Denver and his co-stars fabulously wealthy. “There’s not a lot of shows that run 30 years,” Denver, then 58, said when I interviewed him in midtown Manhattan, in a conference room in the offices of the publishing company that had just released his memoir, “Gilligan, Maynard & Me” (the second name in the title referring to his role as the beatnik Maynard G. Krebs in “The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis”). “If you knew in ’63, when I signed the deal, that things would run 20, 30 years, and didn’t get a deal, then you’d be really upset.”
When he died in 2005, I wrote that he was “the mellowest cat I had ever encountered” in the TV business.
Many actors who became identified with a single, iconic TV character eventually came to loathe the character that made them famous. They would blame the character for their inability to find steady work in the years afterward, when their agents would inform them that producers were taking a pass because the actors were too closely associated with their previous roles and the producers felt audiences wouldn’t accept them in any new ones. If Bob Denver ever felt that way, he never let on when I interviewed him.
He was a good enough sport that he always remembered to wear the one Gilligan sailor hat he still possessed when he made public appearances. “I love to hear people say, ‘Is that really one of the show’s hats?’ They are almost in awe,” he told me.
[Excerpted from "Jerk: My Life as a Columnist on the TV Beat" by Adam Buckman. All rights reserved.]
Katie Couric's coming to daytime but no one knows how she'll do (Photo: Disney/ABC)
By ADAM BUCKMAN
A lot of people want to know lately: How will Katie Couric do on daytime TV?
My answer? I have no idea. It’s not because I’m at a loss for words or can’t quite generate an opinion. I’ve never had those problems. Just on the face of it, I think that generally speaking, the odds don’t favor her making a big splash with a daytime talk show. There are just too many variables afflicting daytime television these days to state with certainty that she’s a slamdunk to emerge with a hit talk show on her hands.
Not that it’s impossible, but this is a time of day that is seriously in flux nowadays as far as television is concerned. Based on everything that’s going on now in daytime, this new Katie Couric talk show is a huge gamble that could go either way.
Here are the factors at play, in no particular order, as Couric prepares to enter the daytime arena about 15 months from now:
1) What exactly is daytime television? One thing it’s not: A place where any former network news anchor has ever set up shop and succeeded. A personality with Couric’s news background might be expected to attract newsmakers as guests, for conversations about stories or subjects in the news. The problem with that: No one’s ever attempted that in a syndicated afternoon talk show.
2) The cable news channels own that kind of news/talk on weekday afternoons. They’ve owned it ever since the 1990s, when the O.J. Simpson trials, the Clinton impeachment, and stories such as the Elian Gonzalez saga and the 2000 presidential election recount riveted viewers in afternoons. Broadcast networks began to notice: These “real-life” soap operas were stealing their audiences.
3) So maybe there’s an opportunity for Couric, a newsperson, to siphon off some of the audience for news/talk in the afternoon. Maybe, but is that audience really big enough to sustain her show? That’s doubtful. It should be noted that Anderson Cooper is poised to do the same thing — start an afternoon talk show. So it’s clear some people in the TV business think the afternoon is ripe for this kind of thing.
4) But is the afternoon audience ripe for it, whoever they are? Sure, everybody’s focusing on Oprah Winfrey leaving daytime, and then, theoretically, leaving an opportunity for someone like Couric to come in and grab the “serious” afternoon TV viewer. But are there really enough of them? Take a look at daytime TV — Oprah was an exception. Most of the shows on daytime are low-rent judge shows and talk shows like “Maury” and “Jerry Springer” (and yes, Ellen Degeneres holds on somehow, with ratings are that pretty low, but apparently just enough to keep her show profitable). Will the audience for all these other shows suddenly flock to Katie Couric? Probably not.
5) Katie’s no Oprah. And that’s the crux of the matter. Even Oprah’s audience was in decline, and she’s Oprah. That’s probably why she decided to leave daytime syndication and stake her future on cable TV. Judge Judy was beating her in the ratings and she knew it. The question is: Do people like Katie Couric? Once upon a time she was America’s sweetheart at “The Today Show.” Then, something happened — I don’t know what it was, but nowadays she doesn’t seem as beloved as she once was. In fact, that’s an understatement. In some quarters, Couric is so polarizing a personality that she’s on par with Sarah Palin in the kinds of reactions she draws from readers of blog posts like this one.
6) Daytime is so unpredictable these days that even the traditional soap operas — the long-time backbone of daytime TV — are on life-support. Under the circumstances, it’s just too chaotic to figure out whether Katie Couric can come along and plant her flag on this shaky ground. Fact is, she’s a very capable broadcaster, but the savior of daytime TV? Who came up with that idea?
THE NEW GUY: Scott Pelley takes over as anchorman on "The CBS Evening News" (Photo: CBS News).
By ADAM BUCKMAN
Scott Pelley didn’t mark his debut as the new anchor of “The CBS Evening News” in any special way Monday evening. Instead, he chose to anchor the broadcast as if his first day was nothing special.
He made no self-referential remarks, made no speeches about what he’ll do or how the newscast might change in the Pelley era or how honored he is to be installed as only the fifth CBS evening-news anchor since 1948.
The approach was refreshing actually. It was also unexpected since we’re not accustomed to TV personalities refraining from talking about themselves, especially on days that are very special to them personally. Certainly, Monday must have been such a day in the life of Scott Pelley, a 53-year-old CBS newsman who had reached the pinnacle of his field, which happens to be one of the most competitive in the world.
And yet, Pelley didn’t mention it. Instead, he anchored the news – introducing stories (10 of them) and, on occasion, exchanging a few remarks with CBS correspondents. Perhaps the approach was deliberate. Maybe it was meant to convey the idea, without Pelley having to spell it out, that he didn’t intend to rock the boat as the broadcast’s new anchor.
Or maybe he’s saving the boat-rocking for some future newscasts. Whatever he was thinking, he didn’t let us in on it. Instead, he read his copy flawlessly and, when it was time to end the show, he said simply, “For all of us at CBS News all around the world, good night.”
The Pelley era was under way, and as the week wore on, Pelley continued to underplay his own role in the broadcast.
Personally, I happen to love the old-fashioned CBS approach to news — the attention to detail, the flawless reading of the copy, the care and professionalism with which the stories are presented. It’s all so fastidious, but in today’s world, do news viewers look for fastidiousness and attention to detail in their TV newscasts? Other than me, does anyone really care about these qualities anymore?
HASTA LA VISTA, BABY: Oprah Winfrey waves good-bye. (Photo: (c) 2011 Harpo, Inc./George Burns)
By ADAM BUCKMAN
OPRAH Winfrey said good-bye — finally! Though it seemed as if this long good-bye would never end, it finally did end Wednesday. Here’s what happened:
The final “Oprah Winfrey Show” Wednesday consisted of little more than Oprah standing on her stage and talking.
For her millions of loyal fans, this must have been heavenly. For the rest of us, who tuned in to her final show (the 4,561st, as Oprah herself pointed out) expecting a bit more excitement – perhaps some fireworks, a big cake, a brass band – the show was a bit of a letdown.
On the other hand, as Oprah said repeatedly, this particular show wasn’t really for those of us who didn’t regularly ride the Oprah train to inspiration, validation and self-fulfillment over the last 25 years. This show was for those who did ride along with Oprah on this “journey” (her word) that began back in 1986.
With the Paul Simon song “10 Years” (the one he converted to “25 Years” in her honor earlier this season) playing as a theme in and out of the show’s commercial breaks, Oprah took her stage at Harpo Studios in Chicago for the last time. Dressed in a simple pink dress, she stood for the whole hour (though a white chair was there in case she needed it) and spoke to the audience.
“This last hour is really about me saying thank you,” she said when she took the stage. “It is my love letter to you.”
“I wanted to spend this last hour telling you what you’ve meant to me,” she said, one of many times she would thank her viewers in the course of this hour-long speech (some might call it a sermon), in which she shared details from her life story (as she’s done many times before), imparted various life lessons, and even preached about the meaning of God. “God is love and God is life!” she exclaimed. “And your life is always speaking to you, first in whispers . . .”
And so it went. There were no celebrity guests, though Tyler Perry was recognized from his seat in the audience because of his participation in a show earlier this season about men who had been sexually abused in boyhood. Oprah’s fourth-grade teacher was in the audience too – the one who Oprah still calls “Mrs. Duncan” – and who apparently had a profound impact on the young Oprah.
If there was any central theme to this show, it was nothing less than the meaning of life, which is a lot for any one person to take on. And yet, Oprah doesn’t shy away from such challenges. She advised her viewers to “use your life to serve the world.” She talked about the Golden Rule and the importance of “validation.”
“There is a common thread that runs through all our pain and suffering and that is unworthiness,” she preached, advising viewers to “validate” the ones they love. Tell them: “What you say matters to me!” Oprah beseeched.
Toward the end of the hour, the commercial breaks came more frequently. After all, television is a business and the breaks near the end of this particular show were valuable indeed. Finally, after one last break, the end was near and Oprah said her final words.
“I thank you for sharing this yellow brick road of blessings,” she said. “I thank you for tuning in everyday . . . I thank you for being as much of a sweet inspiration for me as I’ve tried to be for you. I won’t say good-bye. I’ll just say, Until we meet again. To God be the glory.”
She then strolled out of the studio, stopping briefly for a few hugs and greetings, then continued walking down a narrow corridor lined with members of her staff. At the end of this gauntlet, she encountered her small dog Sadie. Lifting the dog into the air, Oprah declared: “Sadie, we did it! We did it, Sade! We did it!”
And then Oprah, with Sadie under her right arm, disappeared behind a pillar and was gone. Until we meet again.
