"Groundbreaking" is what the network spin-meisters are calling it. Tiresome is my name for it.
I decided it was my professional duty to check out the history-making new NBC series that originated as the first internet program supported by network production values to migrate to a network prime-time spot.
This show takes the same tread-worn dirt path that so many other television series have taken where the ooh-la-la factor comes solely from who's sleeping with who, or who wants to sleep with who, or is it whom? And coming so early in a show in which one is not yet vested, the question is who-- or whom-- cares? My gag reflex kicked in twice before the 25 minute mark from corn-ball moments like when the roomie who's lusted after from afar by her boyfriend's best friend, actually approaches the pal and kisses him for no apparent reason other than she senses his "secret." Eeewww.
Meanwhile, the girlfriend's boyfriend, one of those Ryan Reynolds look-alikes, uses quite possibly some of the cheesiest language on record in a limpid flirt-fest with the car lot salesgirl. Do guys really get laid with that approach? Gosh things have changed since I moved from the first quarter to half-time.
Wasn't that moping-slacker aspect of the Gen-Xers passé and oh so nineties? Looks like twenty-somethings are having a nostalgia-fest. Or else the show's writers are too young to have faced any actual adversity. The only real moment came when the Van Wilder-guy turned dictatorial at the commercial film shoot and the artistic guy walked off the set. (I certainly know I was ready to quit...) At least Artsy-guy wanted to create something interesting, but the guy with the money wanted an in-your-face sell job. Kinda like what this show was turning into: I was half-waiting for the Toyota spot they were shooting to be shown in its completed stage during the show in a whirl of product placement run amok.
The last 20 minutes brought only one more physical reaction, albeit a strong one. And it wasn't during the orgasm discussion. No, the wretch was caused by the cutesy puppy-dog sniffing scene in the kitchen between the Girlfriend and Artsy. I suppose the only reason for subsequent shows to continue on this sappy trajectory, is that no other show would have the nerve.
The Jobs: Out of six people, according to the information we're given in the first episode, we have a wannabe writer, a wannabe actress/singer, and three wannabe filmmakers (Girlfriend's aspirations are unknown-- but then,? she has her man). Has anyone told this gang that the real world cost money to live in? How do these kids pay the rent??? I haven't even gotten to the privacy issue. Honestly, if you lived in a group situation, would you put up with a roommate who not only videotaped you without your knowledge, but then blabbed about your personal life in a global forum? The poised and confident Bitsie Tulloch, whom I've seen on a talk show or two plugging this experiment, seems to tone down everything that's good and capable about herself, becoming the gawky, inferior mess we see on Quarterlife. Pretty Actress/singer is either angry, envious, or defensive. My sexism alert would go off if not for the equal whimpering time given to the males on the show. I'm all for the sensitive man, but two out of three guys actually cry in this-- the first broadcast-- episode!!! Eeeewwww again. This group on the whole is the whiniest bunch I've seen since Jan Brady complained, "Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!" Has anyone told the director that less is more? I guess subtlety doesn't play well on an ipod.
We're treated to a music vid segment when Pretty Actress/Singer sings-- that's when I reheated my leftovers-- and the show closes with the equivalent of a group hug. That's when we're reminded that life is one big mystery and whatever our special purpose, the universe brings so many choices and now is the time to just..."be." Final eeeeewwwww.
I decided it was my professional duty to check out the history-making new NBC series that originated as the first internet program supported by network production values to migrate to a network prime-time spot.
This show takes the same tread-worn dirt path that so many other television series have taken where the ooh-la-la factor comes solely from who's sleeping with who, or who wants to sleep with who, or is it whom? And coming so early in a show in which one is not yet vested, the question is who-- or whom-- cares? My gag reflex kicked in twice before the 25 minute mark from corn-ball moments like when the roomie who's lusted after from afar by her boyfriend's best friend, actually approaches the pal and kisses him for no apparent reason other than she senses his "secret." Eeewww.
Meanwhile, the girlfriend's boyfriend, one of those Ryan Reynolds look-alikes, uses quite possibly some of the cheesiest language on record in a limpid flirt-fest with the car lot salesgirl. Do guys really get laid with that approach? Gosh things have changed since I moved from the first quarter to half-time.
Wasn't that moping-slacker aspect of the Gen-Xers passé and oh so nineties? Looks like twenty-somethings are having a nostalgia-fest. Or else the show's writers are too young to have faced any actual adversity. The only real moment came when the Van Wilder-guy turned dictatorial at the commercial film shoot and the artistic guy walked off the set. (I certainly know I was ready to quit...) At least Artsy-guy wanted to create something interesting, but the guy with the money wanted an in-your-face sell job. Kinda like what this show was turning into: I was half-waiting for the Toyota spot they were shooting to be shown in its completed stage during the show in a whirl of product placement run amok.
The last 20 minutes brought only one more physical reaction, albeit a strong one. And it wasn't during the orgasm discussion. No, the wretch was caused by the cutesy puppy-dog sniffing scene in the kitchen between the Girlfriend and Artsy. I suppose the only reason for subsequent shows to continue on this sappy trajectory, is that no other show would have the nerve.
The Jobs: Out of six people, according to the information we're given in the first episode, we have a wannabe writer, a wannabe actress/singer, and three wannabe filmmakers (Girlfriend's aspirations are unknown-- but then,? she has her man). Has anyone told this gang that the real world cost money to live in? How do these kids pay the rent??? I haven't even gotten to the privacy issue. Honestly, if you lived in a group situation, would you put up with a roommate who not only videotaped you without your knowledge, but then blabbed about your personal life in a global forum? The poised and confident Bitsie Tulloch, whom I've seen on a talk show or two plugging this experiment, seems to tone down everything that's good and capable about herself, becoming the gawky, inferior mess we see on Quarterlife. Pretty Actress/singer is either angry, envious, or defensive. My sexism alert would go off if not for the equal whimpering time given to the males on the show. I'm all for the sensitive man, but two out of three guys actually cry in this-- the first broadcast-- episode!!! Eeeewwww again. This group on the whole is the whiniest bunch I've seen since Jan Brady complained, "Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!" Has anyone told the director that less is more? I guess subtlety doesn't play well on an ipod.
We're treated to a music vid segment when Pretty Actress/Singer sings-- that's when I reheated my leftovers-- and the show closes with the equivalent of a group hug. That's when we're reminded that life is one big mystery and whatever our special purpose, the universe brings so many choices and now is the time to just..."be." Final eeeeewwwww.