Every year at this time, the nation’s television critics descend upon the Beverly Hilton Hotel in Los Angeles (“a glamorous posh oasis,” it calls itself) for two or three weeks of sitting around a hotel ballroom and taking press tours, meeting and greeting TV stars and executives and writing about the fabulously great shows planned in the coming season.
If I had to do this, I would jump off a cliff.
However, I love reading what the critics write. I love this even though I hardly ever watch any of these shows until they show up on Netflix and usually not then, either. After a certain number of years on this planet, you find that you no longer are the sort of person to whom advertisers want to sell stuff so nothing that they sponsor appeals to you. This is actually something of a relief.
However, I love reading what the critics write. I love this even though I hardly ever watch any of these shows until they show up on Netflix and usually not then, either. After a certain number of years on this planet, you find that you no longer are the sort of person to whom advertisers want to sell stuff so nothing that they sponsor appeals to you. This is actually something of a relief.
So the Television Critics Association coverage is how I keep up with the vital part of popular culture that deals with zombies, vampires, people desperate enough to humiliate themselves on reality shows, beautiful lawyers in cases that move through the criminal justice system at warp speed, handsome doctors curing diseases in 43 minutes and gorgeous underdressed women shooting high-powered weapons that cause great torrents of fake blood to spew in high definition.
TV shows are like this because for the most part, real life is usually boring. Also it’s full of people who aren’t particularly good looking. In real life, the TV critics would be previewing shows like these:
ER: 2014 — Go inside a big-city trauma center full of asthmatic children and flu-ridden adults with no primary care doctor, waiting to be seen by people wearing rumpled scrub suits who’ve been awake for 36 hours. Watch the staff trying to find someone — anyone — who has health insurance.
Fire District Rescue — In an affluent suburb, $100,000-a-year firefighters sit around hoping for their weekly fire while complaining about their pensions and feuding with fire-board members who want to strip them of their pink T-shirts, install bulletproof vests on desks and pay big retainers to favored lawyers.
Casino in a Moat — Joe Pesci stars as a Midwest riverfront casino operator engaged in a life-or-death feud with busloads of senior citizens who clog the lines at the buffet and complain that the quarter slots don’t pay off often enough. Meanwhile, an idealistic politician tries to ban smoking while the 75-year-old drummer for the Eagles cover band playing in the lounge has a stroke.
Walker, Health Ranger — Follow the adventures of an intrepid city bureaucrat who prowls the streets looking for heavy-breathing horses, intact dogs and rabid ferrets.
House of Clods — Political intrigue in a Midwestern state capital where legalized bribery thrives. Pilot episode: The governor is stuck in a bunker while a mysterious tycoon funds a coup making chess the official state game. When a checkers-loving lawmaker objects, he is bought off for a sandwich, free tickets to a basketball game and is offered a job as a lobbyist.
The Courthouse — An all-star ensemble cast adds intrigue as prosecutors decline cases that aren’t slam-dunks, public defenders meet ‘em and plead ‘em, judges turn things over to the clerks and jurors go nuts sitting in the assembly room waiting for their turn.
Breakout! — Jailhouse drama ripped from the headlines from small Midwestern towns. Episode one: An affable deputy takes inmates outside to watch fireworks and is surprised when one walks away. Episode two: The sheriff takes inmates out drinking, then has them do work around his house. Episode three: Otis, the town drunk, is given the keys to let himself in and out of his cell.
The Campaign — Edge-of-your-seat drama follows candidates for major public office who exchange sharp Twitter messages, rip down yard signs, mischaracterize 14-year-old legal cases and avoid talking to each other.
Old Habits — In the pilot of this hilarious spy spoof, the president must inform the heads of the CIA and the NSA that World War II has been over for nearly 70 years and they don’t have to spy on Germany any more. High jinks ensue when they decide to start spying on U.S. citizens instead.
Hannibal — Don’t be confused! This show has nothing to do with weird psychiatrists who eat human flesh. It’s about the struggles of a small Midwestern town after high schools no longer require kids to read Mark Twain.
Superteens — Amy and Josh’s friends are amazed at their superpowers: They do their homework, study hard, go to church, don’t drink or do drugs and don’t think their parents are stupid — and they’re not aliens!
El Gee — To hide a key witness against the mob, the FBI’s witness protection program has him elected lieutenant governor three times. Desperate for something to do that won’t attract notice, the LG starts a bicycle race. Naturally it is soon canceled and he’s never heard from again.
