Sunday, January 1 1995
'Grosse Pointe' is a mean, mean show -- and nobody escapes the knife. For me, mean is good.
The overwhelming theme of 'Star Trek' is 'Yay, us!'
The series premiere of 'Some of My Best Friends' was like a 'Reader's Digest' version of 'Kiss Me, Guido', with a few changes so that the writers couldn't be accused of total plagiarism.
Fearful of being 'freaks' themselves, the Winchester brothers find solace in saving others from that same fate.
'Six Feet Under' makes us think about death's implications and how to deal with it, and, more importantly, it helps us to realize what a tragedy a life wasted or spent in conflict can be.
In the ever-shorter cycle of entertainment trends, where life-spans are measured in dog years, the fact that a show can survive nearly a decade is exemplary. That 'The Real World' has accomplished this feat on a station whose lifeblood is perpetual youth and of-the-moment trends is incredible.
Sadly, Rove has castrated his own natural humour to please the big bosses, behaving like he's been thrown in the deep end without his floaties.
The message 'Rocket Power' sends seems especially geared toward encouraging a new generation of self-absorbed punks: winning isn't everything, but it's 'way' cooler than losing.
By definition, all this farting and foolishness is one-note.
Ultimately, 'The Real World' is just as conservative as any network sitcom, selecting characters for their exemplary 'blackness' (or 'gayness,' or 'hayseed-ness'), rather than presenting anything approximating diversity.