A novelist writes a story. When the book ends, so does the story.
A film director directs a story. When the movie ends, so does the story.
But television is a whole different ball game.
So much has been said over the past decade about this being TV’s golden age, about how you can develop characters and stories over years and seasons, and how viewers can really form bonds with these people that they spend an hour or so with per week for X amount of years. And I get that. Trust me. My relationship with Coach Taylor and Mrs. Coach and Riggins and Saracen and the gang was deeper than some of my closest friendships.
But the downside of television’s ability to draw out character development and storytelling over years and seasons – and in some cases decades – is this risk of running a show straight into the ground.
The following is a list of shows I have watched or am watching and what their ultimate end should be or should have been:
I hope this letter finds you well. I began writing this after the second episode, but then I thought I was jumping the gun and being a bit too harsh. I thought that it wasn’t fair to judge a show so quickly that has such a strong history.
However, after watching episode three, I can’t hold back anymore.
Homeland… you know when you’re reading a book and you catch yourself zoning out? Then, you have to go back and find the part that you last remember? That happened THREE times to me during Homeland on Sunday. THREE TIMES! How many times have I had that happen during a TV show before? ZERO—and for what it’s worth, it’s not like I watch TV once a week. One time when I was rewinding the show, I realized that the last part I remembered was Carrie building a house out of popsicle sticks in the psych ward. Yes, THAT was a “memorable moment” of last night’s show. A show that once had its viewers squeezing the couch as the main character was escaping burning buildings now has this same character building miniature houses out of popsicle sticks.
Homeland, it’s as if no one told you that your show started three weeks ago. After three weeks, I feel like I’m watching the part of a show that happens in between seasons that isn’t supposed to be filmed or seen.
Each new TV season brings excitement to your average couch potato. I am an average couch potato. Needless to say, I’m excited about the new TV season.
However, the new TV season also always brings, for me at least, one or two shows that I latch onto even though I know they are going to be canceled. Past examples: Go On, Bent, The River, and 666 Park Avenue. This season the show that I will get attached to but will inevitably get the axe is Trophy Wife.
Hey kids. Take a seat and let me tell you a story. It was the fall of 2005. I had just graduated from high school that past spring. Friends had been off the air for over a year. My generation had watched the last few seasons of Friends, and in the last few years of high school, we’d fallen in love with that crew and their more cynical (and funnier) NBC Thursday night pals on Seinfeld in syndication on TBS. And while Friends and Seinfeld continued to be some of our favorite shows, they weren’t OUR shows. They were for the generations before us, and although timeless, did not represent us at that time in our life.
Later in the fall of 2011, New Girl would premiere on Fox. Many have said (on our site and other sites) that it is our generation’s Friends, and that it’s the first sitcom to truly capture the life of the Millennial Generation. But I’m getting ahead of myself…
Well, kids, it was the fall of 2005 and I started school at Vanderbilt University. First time away from home, with beautiful women everywhere and the entire world at my fingertips. And like pretty much all college freshmen, we were all about as insecure as Ted Mosby.
Yes, Ted Mosby’s the annoying one who is friends with Barney and Marshall and Lily and Robin. Yeah, we were always annoyed by him too during How I Met Your Mother‘s 9-season run. But the show still meant a lot to us. And it served a lot of purposes to my generation, going through college and coming of age into adulthood (or suspended adolescence) during The Great Recession and the Golden Age of TV.
This blog post could easily be titled The Honorable Sandy Cohen: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love The O.C. But regardless, here I am, ten years after The O.C. premiered during the first week of August in 2003. Now, before you start judging me as selling out to the girly teen dramas of our youth after they’ve been cool OR as hopping on teen soap opera bandwagons that are devoid of any substance, you should learn a lesson from me and not throw stones through those glass houses.
Holy bonkers, y’all. The Bachelorette got OFF THE CHAIN last night. We’re talking, like, this should have been the only episode in this entire season, bonkers. We’re not going to do a traditional five point recap because the only recap is the fact that BROOKS DOESN’T LOVE DES AND WHAT THE HELL IS GOING TO HAPPEN NOW????
Okay, so let me break it down for you:
Des went on two FANTASY SUITE dates with Drew and then Chris, and nothing at all interesting happened, except probably some behind-the-scenes heavy petting, and both dudes wildly professing their love for her while she secretly pretended she was dry humping Brooks.
“I’m hoping for a proposal, and from Brooks!” (DID I HEAR THAT RIGHT?)
Des looking freaked out, because DUH.