Apparently most of the young folks on "Nashville" can sing and write songs, but aside from one kid who's about to get a record deal, you wouldn't really know it from the pilot. All we see is a bunch of guys and gals flirting, pouting and occasionally droning on and on about how the one thing they want, more than anything else in the world, is to be famous.
"I want to be a star. I want to be a star," repeats Rachel, who also happens to be Terry Bradshaw's daughter. "And I want everybody to love my music and believe what I'm singing and come to my concerts."
"Listen, be careful what you wish for," says Daddy Terry, and then he catches himself. "But at the same time, if that's what you want, who am I to say don't chase your dreams? God, that's what's fun." Until the shovel knocks you in the head, anyway.
But look, Rachel! You're on TV right now and you're Terry Bradshaw's daughter! You're already famous! What, it's not really all that great unless they love you for you -- or rather, the version of you that your record label (if you ever get one) decides to sell them? Well, that explains why Britney Spears and Kelly Clarkson and so many other big-deal pop singers are so unreasonably happy.
As it turns out, the drive to be famous is the great equalizer: Everyone who wants to be famous looks and sounds exactly the same, and they're all about as charming as a bag of hammers. Add to that the fact that the producers of these shows like to cast human beings who are unreasonably dull and lacking in wit or ideas, and you've got a show that's just dumb and repetitive enough to be embraced by a bunch of fame-hungry teenagers nationwide. Nice going, Fox! Another highbrow feather for your very sophisticated 10-gallon hat!
Talk of the town
The brooding teenagers on "Gossip Girl" (premieres 9 p.m. on Wednesday, Sept. 19, on CW) aren't really famous, but they are rich, and thus worthy of Gawker-type gossip, delivered via a "Desperate Housewives"-style voice-over featuring the telltale snark of Kristen Bell, aka Veronica Mars. As the mysterious Gossip Girl, Bell doesn't appear on-screen, unfortunately; she just offers a play-by-play of rich-kid shenanigans on her Web site, vowing all the while never to reveal her identity.
Josh Schwartz isn't stupid. Just as he knew that we'd love a soap about a sulky working-class misfit, stuck in a hopelessly pretty, McMansion-filled California beach town, now he recognizes -- as the producers of "Nashville" do -- that we're sick of sunshine and nice tans. Schwartz has determined that what we want, more than anything else, is to lounge around with some seriously rich prep school brats in New York City.
Hurray! Prep school brats in New York City! I've been craving this flavor of mean-spirited sulking ever since Nancy Jo Sales wrote that scathing New York magazine exposé of the white-boy prep school gangstas of Manhattan.
Lord knows this terrain is much juicier and more disturbing than the bland new-money Californians of "The OC." For one thing, the rich NYC mothers are far more intimidating and scary than the Newpsies (loaded but tacky Newport Beach divas). One well-timed glare of disapproval or cutting remark from one of these heartless sophisticates, and you're struggling with multiple eating disorders for the rest of your days on earth.
"Blair, if you're going to wear one of my designs, tell me, so we can at least get it properly fitted," one mother hisses sweetly at her daughter. Another is overheard braying, "So I told them forget it, I don't care if it's Murakami, it clashes with my sofa!"
And unlike those smart-talking ruffians on the West Coast, these prep school kids are hopelessly well-bred. "Nate, can I borrow you?" murmurs Blair, "Gossip Girl's" high-end version of Summer from "The OC." "Sure, can you excuse me for a second?" breathes Nate (Chace Crawford) to his father and a friend. The two hurry off casually, then slip into a nearby room for some heavy petting. Aww! It's somehow reassuring to know that even couture-clad teenagers are horny enough to dry hump on the sly.
Of course we're provided with a good, down-to-earth Sandy Cohen-style daddy, Rufus (Matthew Settle), who has the added advantage of having once been cool (his band was No. 9 in Rolling Stone's "Top Ten Forgotten Bands of the Nineties"). Then there's a slightly hotter version of Seth Cohen, Dan (Penn Badgley), and his somewhat naive, social-ladder-climbing little sister Jenny (Taylor Momsen). But the real center of attention here is Serena (Blake Lively) -- the new, improved NYC Marissa -- who's being pushed out of her circle by nasty Blair (Leighton Meester) because of some bad choices Serena made in the past. So it looks like Dan secretly loves Serena, and Blair's guy Nate secretly loves Serena, but Serena's just, you know, depressed and stuff, but hopefully not with the big "Kick Me" sign on her back that Marissa had from Day One. Let's just keep Imogen Heap out of this.
When you really think about it, "Gossip Girl" is like an "OC" spinoff starring Oliver, Marissa's sophisticated but suicidal ex-boyfriend. You just throw in a bunch of similarly sullen richies, have them sipping drinks at luxury hotels or strolling through the aisles of the trendiest high-end department stores, and it's all very romantic and special. As a result, kids nationwide daydream about one day making enough money to live in the giant upscale walking mall that NYC has become.
Next page: Bourdain wields his sharp words like a mighty butcher knife!
