Muddy waters
Lucy Spiller of FX's "Dirt" (premieres at 10 p.m. Sunday, March 2) certainly could. Even though the tabloid editor (played by Courteney Cox) is in a hospital bed, recovering from a stab wound after being attacked by a scorned starlet whose life she essentially ruined, Lucy's first words as she regains consciousness are "Cover ... the cover" as in, what do we have for the cover this week?
If that doesn't sound all that believable, well, it's not. "Hello everyone! Vacation's over!" Lucy bellows as she strides through the offices of Dirt Now magazine, and upon arriving at the office, she adds, "Have my office painted, I've seen enough red!" Get it? She was stabbed. Although that's the sort of lame joke that floats around "Dirt" like lint in a laundry room, it's hard not to wonder if it wouldn't have a little more believability and bite coming out of another actor's mouth. Courteney Cox is merely adequate as Lucy Spiller. Sure, she's convincingly bossy and self-involved, but Cox's interpretation of Lucy is pretty flat otherwise. There's nothing going on in her voice. There are no mysterious shades of longing or curiosity or deceit in her eyes. When you think of the most electrifying evil-boss-lady performances in recent history -- Susan Sarandon in HBO's "Bernard and Doris," Glenn Close in FX's "Damages," Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada" -- the potential for fun and intrigue with this character is clear. Just a tiny sliver of Sarandon's drunken hysteria, a glimmer of Close's nasty impulses, a hint of Streep's casual coldness, would transform Lucy into a character worth watching.
Instead, we get what amounts to a cardboard cutout, one with no remorse, no clear motive for her actions (success, I suppose, but what does that bring her?), no obvious vulnerabilities (there are hints that she's lonely or wants a family, mostly coming from other characters' accusations, but we don't see this fragility or desire in Cox at all), and no reason to care.
This isn't entirely Cox's fault, of course. Could even Streep convincingly wake up from a coma with the words "Cover? The cover?" on her lips? "Dirt" suffers from a serious lack of imagination. The writers steal stories from the tabloids, combining scandals but making it crystal clear whom they're parodying. In the second episode of the second season, "Celebutante" Milan is caught driving the wrong way on an offramp. Meanwhile, sitcom star Jimmy Darby, who's having custody issues with his ex-wife, leaves a voice-mail for his daughter calling her "a stupid little narcissist," and then telling her, "You're selfish and you're hollow and I don't give a shit about you and your slutty cheerleader friends." Later we see a video clip of Darby (played by Tom Arnold) drunk, with his daughter heard off-screen asking, "Dad, why are you eating spaghetti on the floor?"
If you're going to start with real stories, they should at least branch off into interesting territory from there. Lucy makes a bet with Farber, her new reporter, that Milan will be out of jail by the end of the day, but we already know this will happen, because that's how it was with Paris.
Then Lucy goes to Milan's house to interview her (Milan's on house arrest), and ends up insulting her when she realizes Milan wants her to run a pre-printed interview written by her publicists.
Lucy: You know, when I was in high school, I used to drive by the big gates of your parents' house. It was so huge. I used to think, "Whoever lives inside, they must have anything they want. They can be anything they want." What did you choose to be, a celebutante?
Milan: I worked my ass off to become a star.
Lucy: You're not a singer. You're not an actress. You've never worked a day in your life. You're a little spoiled brat who goes clubbing, that's all you've ever achieved. Oh, that and going up an offramp after having one too many chocolatinis.
Milan: You think I'm just some party girl? I am a brand. I created a brand. You think I'm nothing? OK. Think about how hard it is to turn nothing into a major brand: A clothing line, fragrances, makeup. You can call me a slut or a whore or anything else, but never say I don't work hard for what I have.
Lucy: Now there's a quote.
If these stories are ripped straight from the headlines, then the dialogue is ripped straight from the comments section of TMZ. "You're a spoiled little brat who goes clubbing"? How can we respect a character who'd deign to make such an obvious observation? Lucy is about as intimidating as a temperamental 13-year-old.
It's all so lightweight and predictable, but the writers are determined to make it seem heavier than it is. Here's Don Konkey (Ian Hart), Lucy's schizophrenic paparazzo friend, to explain that Milan is just "the part of ourselves we loathe ... That's why we need her, to make us feel better. That's her job." Deep, man.
Mostly, though, we're meant to revel in how corrupt and soulless Lucy is. "Doesn't it make you nervous, to mess around with people's lives like this, given everything that's happened?" Charly, a Lindsay Lohan clone, asks Lucy. "No," Lucy answers flatly, without explaining. If Lucy could get stabbed and have no change of heart and no new insights into herself or her world, then clearly she's never going to be anything more than a placeholder for the soulless mastermind, pacing around her house in a black satin robe with a glass of pinot noir in her hand.
At the end of the season premiere, Lucy and Don walk through a graveyard together, and everything about the scene reminds me of mediocre student filmmaking: leaden dialogue delivered by colorless voices, "artsy" but unappealing camera angles, crappy art direction. With the glow of fake moonlight and the moody alt-rock building softly, a clumsy attempt at dramatic weight is looming in the air like the stank of Polo cologne at a high school prom.
Don: What happened to you, Lucy?
Lucy: I was in a coma, and for a minute, I crossed over. It was so nice.
Don: Why did you come back?
Lucy: I don't know. We'll see.
Yes, I suppose we will see, eventually. But why would we want to?
Sunday night: Join our discussion of "The Wire" after the third-to-last episode of the series. Next week: "Wife Swap" and "Supernanny" explore the perilous and volatile back roads of the American dream!
About the writer
Heather Havrilesky is Salon's TV critic. She also maintains the rabbit blog. You can find more of her columns in the I Like To Watch directory.
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