Bad company
On top of all the rest of the summer dramas, there's "The Company" (8 p.m. Sundays on TNT) the big summer miniseries that none of us are supposed to miss. OK, maybe I'm the only one who's not supposed to miss it, but still: Alfred Molina? Michael Keaton? Chris O'Donnell? Directed by Ridley Scott and Tony Scott? An expensive historical drama that addresses issues of national security, espionage, romance, the CIA version of "The Winds of War"?
No, my chicken friend. I refuse. I watched one full hour and my head grew heavy, thanks to some of the most on-the-nose dialogue I've ever encountered. In fact, since no one ever sent me enough examples of overly obvious, clunky, nail-on-the-head dialogue in the On-the-Nose Dialogue Contest, I'm just going to send all of this TV schwag over to the good people at TNT for filming the most annoying teleplay ever written.
Now I know it's the first hour of an epic drama that spans the CIA's Cold War years, so there's a lot of back story to lay forth. But even so, can we please use our powers of imagination for two seconds, instead of churning out scene after scene where two characters explain themselves and each other to each other in hopelessly clear, distinct terms? It's about as artful as Fregian representation, when it should evoke romance and mystery, like Cantorian space-time theory!
Take a gander, my little mathlings:
"But you, Jimbo, have true genius. No, it's true, you have that unique skill to find patterns within what seems like conflicting trivia, useless pieces of information."
"I drink what my health report describes as a toxic level of alcohol."
"Your mother taught you English as well as French. You have an aptitude for languages. Your grades at Yale were of the highest order. You were popular, you made friends."
But even after so much talk, we know very little about the characters here. There are no illustrative scenes where we're shown how these individuals interact with the world. Not only that, but we're assumed to care about spying in general, without being given any specifics on what's at stake in any of the first few scenes. There might be a mole. The safe house might be compromised. So what? Who are these people, and why shouldn't we change the channel?
Let me just add that O'Donnell is great as an aw-shucks preppy love interest for Meredith Grey on "Grey's Anatomy," but as a spy, he has all of the deadly charisma and churning inner conflict of lunchmeat. Meanwhile, Molina is growling his lines with gusto and Keaton is experimenting with some stylized, obnoxious deadpan delivery that screams, "Look! My guy is a genius! A paranoid, antisocial genius with a deliriously quirky nickname!" (He plays a CIA agent known as "Mother" [we learn his nickname in his first scene, of course] who's obsessed with sniffing out a mole in the department. Snore.)
Yes, yes, everyone says "The Company" is delightful. I'm sure it's positively riveting. Go ahead and watch the same rehashed, symbolic KGB-follows-CIA-guy-into-house-of-mirrors scenes, while I enjoy the simple pleasures of guessing what the food tastes like on "Top Chef."
Band practice
Forget hourlong dramas anyway! This summer, I only have the stomach for small meals, half-hour dramedies like "Weeds" and "Californication" and "Flight of the Conchords" and even the largely plot-free frivolities of "Entourage."
I haven't written about "Flight of the Conchords" (10:30 p.m. Sundays on HBO) because Thomas Rogers covered it nicely here, but it's definitely one of my favorite summer comedies. Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement are both hysterical, and while the brilliance of the musical numbers has waned a little since the heady thrills of that first Prince-inspired melody ("Lookin' 'round the room, I can tell that you are the most beautiful girl in the room -- in the whole wide room!"), I loved the ridiculous David Bowie sequence a few weeks ago, in which Bowie appears to Bret and tells him that an eye patch will enhance his look, all the while singing songs that span his evolving musical style, one minute sounding a little bit like "Changes," the next evoking "Diamond Dogs."
Normally, I hate ironicomical rock, or whatever you want to call it. Even though they're skilled mimics, I was never a big fan of Ween, and aside from a well-crafted Beck tune, lyrics without an emotional center have always bugged me. I still remember being dragged to a Ween show in San Francisco the night that Pedro, the gay guy on "The Real World," died of AIDS. The Ween guys announced his death, and then launched into "The HIV Song," an upbeat ditty that repeats the words "AIDS!" and "HIV!" over and over. Oh, ha ha ha! Get it? Yeah, neither do I.
All of which sits in direct contrast to the earnest, deadpan, post-post-ironic style of "Flight of the Conchords." These two don't make fun of musical styles so much as make fun of themselves for loving those styles so completely. Whether they're launching into a parody of Prince, Bowie or some absurdly bad '80s-era band like A-ha or Frankie Goes to Hollywood, their imitation is clearly a form of flattery.
Or maybe Bret and Jemaine as characters are so guileless as to render them toothless and lovable. Either way, the tone of "Flight of the Conchords" is pitch perfect, the visual style is odd and modern, and basically, this is the best new show that HBO has picked up in a long, long time.
Next page: My love for "Weeds" grows wild