Traveling the 'Downton Abbey' Road: Where It Came From, and Why Viewers Are Watching

February 3, 2012 9:50 PM

By Noel Holston

When you're alone and life is making you lonely, you can always go... Down-tonnnn!

Okay, I've gotten that out of the way, my worst pun of the year. So far.

But let's do talk about Downton Abbey, the most watched and talked-about series PBS has had since, oh, The Civil War...

The series' Season 2 premiere, a few weeks ago, pulled 4.2 million viewers, which is a veritable Super Bowl number in the public broadcasting world. Fans are having viewing parties and dressing up in costume. It has celebrity fans. Martha Stewart pronounced it more fun than insider trading. Or interior decorating. Or something.

My feelings about the Downton phenomenon are mixed. I mean, sure, it's handsomely produced, beautifully photographed and astutely cast, down to the smallest roles. But that's actually pretty typical of the British-made dramas and mysteries that get shown here under the Masterpiece banner. And many of them are every bit as good, if not better.

For all the critical effusion over the current "golden age" of television drama -- ushered in by HBO with The Sopranos, The Wire and such like, and now encompassing such current series as AMC's Mad Men and FX's Justified -- the fact is that American television took a decade or two to catch up with the Brits on the quality drama front.

Upstairs, Downstairs, the brilliantly written prototype for Downton Abbey, debuted on PBS in 1971, when prime-time drama in the USA was epitomized by Marcus Welby, M.D. and Bonanza.

I, Claudius, the Sopranos of ancient Rome, complete with sadistic whackings and flashes of nudity, was broadcast here in 1976.

British miniseries based on John Le Carre's Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (1979) and Smiley's People (1982), starring Sir Alec Guinness, were as dense and challenging as anything yet produced by an American network.

And Dennis Potter's The Singing Detective (1986) revealed literary potential in television previously undreamed of -- and still largely undeveloped.

What we're seeing nowadays on Masterpiece, in both the Classic and Mystery editions, is evidence of how the influence of British dramatic series wasn't one-way. As well written, costumed and cast as Upstairs, Downstairs and other British dramas from that first wave were, they were no better lit than American daytime soaps, and the sound was notoriously dreadful.

The serial dramas and one-shots showcased on Masterpiece in recent years boast the same vastly improved production values that mark current American series, such as The Good Wife and Treme.

But resplendent production values can't account for Downton Abbey's high ratings any more than good acting can. Bleak House, starring Gillian Anderson (seen at right), was incredible -- the ultimate Dickens adaption. And the Cranford series, with Judi Dench, and any of a number of Jane Austen adaptations have been splendid.

Quite honestly, Season 2 of Downton hasn't been good as those series and others. The pacing has gone from brisk to rushed. Smartly conceived scenes aren't given time to breathe, and too much of the dialogue is thinly disguised plot points.

So, why this series? And why now?

Theories abound.

One analyst, nodding to the Occupy Wall Street movement, argues that the popularity of the series rests in its portrayal of "simmering class conflicts that resound a century later." Liberals and progressives supposedly adore the show because, in their bleeding hearts of hearts, they secretly pine for structure and order.

On Slate.com, Katie Roiphe suggested that -- like Downton's young heir, Matthew Crawley, who wasn't raised noble and actually works for a living -- we viewers are at once "disapproving of the flagrant exploitation of the estate and utterly seduced by it."

She went on to say there's "something reassuring about the retrograde class structures in Downton Abbey, something elegant and comforting in their rigidity."

Me? I like the costumes, the pretty women, Lord Grantham's dog, and the sardonic humor of his valet, Mr. Bates. I'm hoping for a Mystery spinoff in which Bates and his beloved, the maid Anna, bump off his nasty, estranged wife and go on the lam to America -- where they open a small motel on a quiet California highway.

But seriously...

Here's another theory, one that doesn't necessarily discount all those others about our conflicted attitudes about class -- though I would caution extrapolating the interest of 4 million viewers into a national trend. By that standard, the vastly more popular Two and a Half Men indicates we all want to be smirky lotharios.

Downton Abbey, I suggest, benefits from being in the right place at the right time.

It's a complicated, well-acted drama airing at 9 o'clock on Sunday night, a time slot in which HBO and Showtime, and other cable networks for the past decade, have conditioned viewers to expect above-average dramatic fare.

And it's being embraced not just by longtime PBS supporters, but by younger viewers for whom it's just another stop on the remote.

It's Masterpiece reaping a nice little harvest for all the seeds it has sewn over four decades.

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Win or Lose Sunday, New England Knows Both Very Well

February 3, 2012 9:45 PM

By Eric Gould

BOSTON -- Make a casual check into the all-time most watched television broadcasts, and you'll quickly find that about half of them are Super Bowls. And the focus is, once again, on the Boys from Boston. This modern American spectacle has it all: brute force, high-flying athletic ability, luxury sports palaces, dolled-up cheerleaders and, this year, Madonna. The only thing left out are the caged, lip-smacking lions.

This year, the New England Patriots go for their fourth title of the Tom Brady-Bill Belichick era, and the buzz here in Boston has been double-edged, even a little ambivalent...

Sure, everyone wants Tom Brady to get his fourth ring, and take his place among the NFL's all-time best.

But the last time they had that chance, in 2007, Boston fans watched in drained disbelief as a perfect 19-0 season evaporated in the fourth quarter, with a miracle hand-to-helmet catch saving a last-minute drive. That catch helped put the The Team That Must Not Be Named ahead for good by three points, with 35 seconds left.

Another gut-wrenching loss to New York.

Or, as one of my fantasy league team owners, a healthy Patriot critic, posted succinctly after this year's Patriots regular-season loss to TTTMNBN, "18 -1 forever."

Some are calling The Super Bowl on Sunday a chance for the Patriots to revenge the '07 loss. But there is no win that will ever affect the outcome of that game. Win or lose Sunday, the chance of that perfect season, with all the scoring records, the barnstorming through the league... all that's kaput.

This year, the recent track record is pretty clear. Two of the three top offenses in the NFL (Green Bay and New Orleans) slammed into top-ranked defenses in the playoffs, and were done. Only the Patriots, an offensive juggernaut themselves, went on to advance -- getting by Baltimore when the Ravens missed a weird, swerving kick in the final seconds.

At its best, that game was a gutty, hard-nosed playoff win. At worst, it was a non-loss, not the Patriots' usual high-flying passing domination.

Sunday, it's up to the New England offense line to win the day, to keep the Monsters of Manhattan out, and let Brady do his thing -- putting pinpoint passes on a dime, eventually frustrating a defensive backfield so badly, they are forced to take risks and leave spots open.

Whether that transpires, who knows? Football games have their own wacky turns, and there are 22 guys on the field going at full tilt every play, trying to make things happen.

And while the oddball win over Baltimore will take its place among memorable Boston sports moments, it can't be considered at the top.

Since 2001, when the Pats won their first Super Bowl, there's been an embarrassment of riches here in Boston. Brady and the Pats have won three NFL titles, two of those back-to-back in 2003-04. Then the Red Sox broke "The Curse," an 86-year drought of World Series championships, winning two ('04 and '07).

The Celtics chipped in with one of their own, winning another NBA title in 2008, and hockey's Bruins fought their way back in a thrilling seven-game series last year, bringing the Stanley Cup back to Boston after 40 years away.

That's seven pro titles in Boston in ten years, making the area perhaps a bunch of spoiled sports brats.

Brady and New England are now generally reviled among NFL fans who get tired of a team dominating for a couple of years -- and then become downright hostile at seeing the same winning faces again and again after that.

Everyone knows that Boston isn't the most friendly place. And fans here can often be, well, plain obnoxious.

Then there's The Coach. Bill Belichick doesn't do much to endear national sports fans, either. There were fines for violating sideline rules one year, objections for running up the score when they were way ahead -- and, as always, there are the monotone press conferences of evasive non-answer answers, tinged with an edge of stubbornness and condescension.

He often seems to be set on doing his best Captain Queeg impression of Humphrey Bogart from The Caine Mutiny.

Whatever.

We have a bit of a chip on our shoulder in Boston, and won't tire of winners anytime soon. It goes back to being second fiddle to the Yankees for decades. But finally, new ownership came to town, shrugged off the Beantown mindset, and figured out a way for the Red Sox to outspend them and put together a team that could, on a regular basis, beat them.

Same goes for the Pats, who once were the Junior Varsity, joining the upstart American Football League in 1960. They were terrible for 35 years, until football guru Bill Parcells came in as a hired gun. He started a winning tradition here, and then went back to -- you guessed it -- New York.

For a long time, it's fair to say that Boston was the Philly of the North, another red-headed stepchild of New York City.

There were some incredible, major catastrophes along the way. None, perhaps, as bad the Red Sox loss to the (yes, New York) Mets in the '86 World Series. A sure out to give them the win in Game Six went through first-baseman Bill Buckner's legs and dribbled into the outfield. The Red Sox lost in seven games.

It got so bad, at one point, that RIck Pitino, then the coach of the then-terrible post-Larry Bird Celtics, described hyper-whining callers to local sports radio stations "the fellowship of the miserable." Even the Celtic's domination during the '60s and '80s couldn't soothe the suffering masses.

Two weeks ago, Jim Nantz handed over the AFC title trophy to New England owner Bob Kraft, who earlier this year lost his wife, Myra, to cancer. The entire team played all season with her initials, MHK, stitched onto their game jerseys.

Accepting the honor on live TV, in a touching moment, Kraft kissed the trophy and pointed to the sky.

That Patriot win (er, gift) over Baltimore couldn't be put in the same league as Brady's comeback win over the Rams in '01. Or the Red Sox's miracle come-from-behind seven-game series win over the Yankees, courtesy of Curt Schilling's legendary Bloody Sock in 2004.

But it was another memorable jaw-dropper, and another golden moment in a town that's had quite a few over the past 10 years -- after having not much of anything at all.

If the Patriots can't get it done on Sunday, and the unthinkable happens, and we lose to the TTTMNBN -- again...

Well, we'll survive. We're quite used to living with long sports heartburn.

We wrote the book on it.

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Get Happy! (Via Television)

February 3, 2012 10:43 AM

By Theresa Corigliano

The last few weeks have reminded me that when television is good, it just makes you happy.

Enchanting characters, indelible performances, memorable moments that resonate, stories about make-believe circumstances that touch your real life. And, more surprising, shows that grab you even if you're not sure why.

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LUCK is the new HBO series from the iconic team of David Milch (Deadwood, NYPD Blue) and Michael Mann (Heat, To Live and Die in L.A., Miami Vice), set in the world of horse racing. Supposedly, the two [pictured below] drew a line in the sand: Milch would control the scripts, and Mann would be behind the camera. Hard to imagine either of these two being bound by that kind of separation, but maybe that's what you have to do with opinionated titans.

I will always be a fan of the way Milch writes. I may not love everything he does, or understand everything he says, or has his characters say, but Milch taught me how to listen to TV, and how to write the way we actually speak. Some critics point to Milch-speak as being virtually incomprehensible. And he may be guilty of overdoing it. But we don't talk to each other in diagrammed sentences. Often, we speak without saying a word, and then, without subjects, verbs and objects. For me, this kind of dialogue is what makes his characters sing. Mann makes horse racing and its denizens throb. The colors and camera choices capture the atmosphere whether you care about the sport, or debate that it is a sport rather than a cruelty.

You couldn't browse magazines or work on a laptop while watching Blue, and forget trying it with Luck (Sundays at 9 p.m. ET on HBO). Milch demands attention to the words, and the people defined by them. Supposedly, Milch demands that every "um, and, the" in his scripts be said exactly as written, because he is rhythmic and purposeful. Supposedly, in the Blue days, if an actor dared to improvise and leave out one of those mutterings, and Milch was on set, making them do the scene over. I don't know if he's still that specific, but I do know I understand his POV based on how his writing has made me feel. I watched a few episodes of Luck for the purpose of this review, and have another bunch to watch. I am not sure how I feel about the story, but it might be enough just to see Dustin Hoffman, Nick Nolte, Jill Hennessy (where has she been?) and one of my personal favorites, Jason Gedrick, along with lesser known spot-on character actors, inhabit the Mann/Milch world.

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TOUCH has a big problem. That would be Jack Bauer and how much I wish 24 was still on the air.

Unreasonable, unfair, I know, but I can't help it. Two years gone, and I still talk to people who sigh "I really miss 24."

In Touch (sneaked by Fox Jan. 25, available on-demand and online through Feb. 22; official premiere Monday, March 19 at 9 p.m. ET), Sutherland plays Martin Bohm, the blue-collar father of a young boy who doesn't speak, hates to be touched, and only communicates with his father through a series of what appears to be random numbers. The breakthrough between father and son comes when Martin discovers the numbers may not be random at all: His special son may just be able to predict the future. The boy and his father will connect with seemingly unrelated people and events week to week. Sutherland is terrific in the role, totally believable, even more so than the premise, but still --

Touch shares another similarity to 24. On the latter show, I didn't really understand the terrorist techno talk, but it didn't matter: I had Chloe and Jack, the ticking time bomb, and that ticking clock at the cliffhanger ending of every episode. The confusing stuff didn't matter.

But it's hard to see how the convoluted Touch will connect viewers to story every week. I'm not sure I really understood how this numbers thing is going to work. It felt like a stretch to me, and not a particularly compelling one. And I can't be the only viewer who winced audibly when, in the sneak preview, Martin was punched in the gut and knocked to the ground by someone he was pursuing. It'll take a while to adjust to a Sutherland who's not Superman. And it'll get even murkier, if the 24 movie that's being talked about really does begin production in March, as Sutherland said in a recent conference call. Maybe, sadly, there needs to be a character separation here. Or maybe Sutherland is hedging his bets if Touch fails to catch hold.

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And speaking of the supernatural, I'm really glad Syfy's BEING HUMAN (Mondays at 9 p.m. ET) is back for a second season. (You can catch up with Season 1 on Syfy's website.) I'm also looking forward to the Feb. 25 return of the original BBC Being Human, entering its fourth season (other seasons available on DVD). Here's a rare occurrence on TV -- when the original and the remake are both worthy.

I just love the premise: A ghost, a werewolf and a vampire walk into a bar -- no, sorry, they're roommates. Kudos to both sets of producers/writers for great casting, writing that's funny and touching, and really scary effects. If I had to choose, I'd go with the BBC series, part of BBC America's Supernatural Saturday program block, but both shows are well done, and different enough to keep you interested. Even if it's a little schizophrenic to switch back and forth.

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Quick takes on other midseason shows:

ALCATRAZ (Fox, running Monday at 9 p.m. ET, encores Saturday at 11 p.m. ET) -- Ghostly, creepy, stylish enough to make me want to see more of inmates who escaped from the Rock 40 years ago now haunting and killing present day. Nice plus: A little Sam Neill gravitas classing up the joint.

SMASH (NBC, premieres Monday, Feb. 6 at 10 p.m. ET) -- Creators Craig Zadan and Neil Meron are pitch perfect here. Former Idol star Katharine McPhee dazzles. Knew she had the voice, but she's effortless acting in this musical about a Broadway triple threat fighting for her break. Little bit Chorus Line/All About Eve/Stage Door, very 5-6-7-8. Didn't want it to end. The argument is always that no one outside of New York cares about Broadway, and NBC deserves to prove that's not true. Not sure if Steven Spielberg's idea of actually mounting the Marilyn Monroe musical that actually comes out of Smash will work, but hoping audiences will buy the ticket to the TV show.

THE RIVER (ABC, premieres Tuesday, Feb. 7 at 9 p.m. ET) -- I begged it to stop, then remembered my remote control gives me superpowers. Who doesn't like a good spooky story? But camera tricks will never take the place of one. Unfortunately, the promos and print ads are more compelling than the actual show.

GCB (ABC, premieres Sunday, March 4 at 10 p.m. ET) -- Bitches? Whatever. The initials are annoying. Otherwise, it's sly yet over-the-top, and that's just the wickedly wonderful Kristen Chenoweth. She distracted me from the fact the producers need to find the balance in this series to make it less one-note and worn.

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The Most Human Moments at the Most Unexpected Times

January 31, 2012 3:08 PM

By Theresa Corigliano

Mad Men and Downton Abbey -- I know. It seems odd to talk about these two shows in the same paragraph.

But both shows hold up mirrors to their times. Both of them have persuaded me that I would not have been happy as a young woman in either the early 1900s or 60 years later. You might be angry, you might have trouble wrapping your mind around the limitations, but Abbey and Mad Men make you grateful for what you do have, and make you admire the women who would never have the opportunities, and those who ultimately fought to have them.

It's not too late to tune into Season 2 of Downton Abbey on your local PBS station. If you missed the first four episodes, they are available for viewing online. You can catch up with Season 1 of Downton Abbey on DVD or Blu-ray.

Call it a miniseries, as the Hollywood Foreign Press was wont to do in bestowing a Golden Globe a few weeks ago; or call it a limited series or series. Doesn't matter. How many dramas come along where you fall in love with every single character that lives upstairs and downstairs at Downton, the sprawling estate that's home to the Crawley family, headed by the Earl of Grantham?

It's a period potboiler, a costume drama genre that PBS has perfected, and it's an addiction. The heroes are many -- especially Carson the butler, as inhabited by Jim Carter, and Brendan Coyle's Bates, Lord Grantham's friend and valet -- but it is the villains who are exceptional: Thomas (Rob James-Collier), the footman with aspirations, who is unscrupulous, calculating, manipulative, poisonous and narcissistic in only the best way; and his sinister counterpart O'Brien (Siobhan Finneran), Lady Grantham's snake of a lady's maid, who is simultaneously devoted to the woman she serves and inexplicably committed to hurting her, as well as almost everyone else who crosses her path. James-Collier and Finneran inhabit these characters with steely brilliance, and Finneran in particular can turn on a dime. One minute, you want to see her get her comeuppance; the next, she breaks your heart. The way she coils is stunning, the dialogue she mutters, diabolical, but it's the shadows that chase across her face that will haunt you. Who is this O'Brien, and who made her the hard and complicated woman she has become?

The maids who want more, the cook who wants only to keep her place in the kitchen, the Countess and her daughters, all share one trait that has little to do with their position in the household. The women of this era are not expected to have opinions, choose their own futures, have real jobs, or aspire. The Dowager Countess, as illuminated by Dame Maggie Smith, is holding on to the comfort of what she knows best with as much tenacity as others embrace change. Their diverse struggles simply to be who they are elevate Downton Abbey. There's enough soap to satisfy, and enough heart to capture yours.

Which brings me to Mad Men. I confess, I was a late bloomer. At the time Mad Men arrived on the TV scene, I was still primarily a viewer, not a critic, and I wasn't drawn by a drama where the men had the big thumbs, with the women squashed under them. It was a personal thing, and I took a pass, but somehow knew I was making a judgment and a mistake. Fifteen Emmys later, and accompanying accolades over four seasons, with the long-awaited Season 5 poised to return this March, I decided it was time for me to see what I had missed.

The only thing that comes close to the luxury of watching four seasons of a great TV show back-to-back is finding an author you have never read, falling in love, and then discovering they've written 20 other books. That's my definition of heaven, and now, thanks to full seasons on DVD, I get to do that with TV as well.

So I haven't slept much the last few weeks. Haven't wanted to. All I wanted to do once I started with Mad Men's first DVD was to keep watching, episode after episode, season after season. The good news as I am finishing the fourth season is that Season 5 is not that far off (it starts on AMC March 25).

Because I'm going to need a fix. Mad Men is addictive. It is seductive. It is about small moments, not big plot points. It's about holding your breath, hating the amorality, and wincing at the cruelty. It is so carefully crafted that it is impossible to forget the carefully chosen music that runs over almost all of the end credits, leaving you feeling like you've been hit by a truck. That's effective storytelling.

It is not a series for the faint of heart. It's a series that dares to turn on the lives of many characters you will not like. Isn't there some rule of TV that says we will walk away from that kind of cast? These are characters spiraling in a world filled with heartache, disappointment, betrayal and ambition. But they move in a universe of beautifully written words, stunningly acted, and mesmerizing in its authenticity.

There is not a misstep among the cast. They nail it. Looking back over the seasons I watched, I think the smartest thing Jon Hamm did was to break out of ad man Don Draper's straightjacket to host Saturday Night Live. Here is a classic tall, dark and handsome leading man who needed to show his goofy, human side in a hurry, because his Draper is so taut and spare and broken a character, Hamm knew he had to remind viewers that he's acting.

As far as the women are concerned, their 1960s world seems as claustrophobic as the 1860s. The ad men have their own demons, no question, but here are women in the workplace who are not only pinned under the aforementioned thumbs, but might as well be nailed to their desks or the copy machines. There is little freedom at home, little freedom at the office, and no room to grow in either place. Elisabeth Moss's copywriter Peggy is smart enough to want, and eventually, smart enough to go after what she wants. But it is Christina Hendricks's office manager Joan who will reduce you to a nub. If you Google Hendricks, most of the hits are about her generous, womanly, un-Hollywood figure. Ironic that this would be the lead in 2012, rather than the layered performance she is giving.

Season to season, Peggy grows as we expect and hope she would. Season to season, Joan unfolds in ways we could not have expected. She may know where the bodies are buried at Sterling Cooper, and she may even have buried some of them, but Hendricks shows how Joan's strength may have weakened her. The actress unfurls the most human moments at the most unexpected times. Joan can be lush and spare in the same scene. Just when you think you have Joan figured out, turns out, you know nothing.

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Made by Thoroughbreds, HBO's 'Luck' Can Be a Daze at the Races

January 27, 2012 10:07 PM

By Ed Bark
unclebarky.com

A horse is a horse, of course of course. If only it were that easy with Luck, a measured and at times almost mystical series devoted to the so-called "Sport of Kings" -- and degenerate gamblers.

HBO took the unprecedented step of sending out all nine episodes of Season 1. And you'll pretty much win in the end if you ride this mount all the way to the finish line -- even though the overall uplifting denouement isn't entirely earned. And the mind games involving Dustin Hoffman's character and a trio of lethal big businessmen remain head-dizzying at best.

Hoffman, in his first TV series, is but one of a quartet of very estimable older men. Nick Nolte is also a featured cast member, while the executive producers are real-life horseplayer David Milch (Deadwood) and Michael Mann (Miami Vice). That's a lot of auteur/artiste power, even for HBO.

Luck was sneak-previewed in December following the Season 2 finale of Boardwalk Empire. Sunday's re-launch will be from the very beginning, with Hoffman's Chester "Ace" Bernstein in the first frame and briefly behind bars. But he's being freed after a three-year sentence, having taken a cocaine-dealing rap rather than have his grandson do the time.

Ace is picked up by his extremely loyal bodyguard/driver, Gus Demitriou (TV vet Dennis Farina). They aim to settle a score by duping the aforementioned trio of skullduggery specialists into popping for a would-be gambling Garden of Eden in which both horse track betting and casino games are suckers' baits. Or something like that. It can sometimes be quite hard to tell.

Principal among the conscience-less financiers is Michael Gambon (The Singing Detective, Harry Potter) as the really scary Michael. But he doesn't show up until Episode 4, along with Joan Allen's first appearance as a horse samaritan.

Luck's opening episode is thoroughly populated, though. Perhaps over-populated. Nolte plays grizzled Kentucky trainer-turned-owner Walter Smith, who talks as though he's just gargled gravel. His "Big Horse" is the son of a prize-winning dad who met a tragic end. This continues to deeply haunt Walter.

The degenerate gambler populace at Santa Anita Park is represented by the track-addled quartet of Jerry, Marcus, Lonnie and Renzo (Jason Gedrick, Kevin Dunn, Ian Hart and Ritchie Coster; photo at top). They're combining their dwindling resources in pursuit of a nearly $2.7 million Pick Six jackpot, with Jerry the expert handicapper (and poker addict) and Marcus the wheezing wheelchair-bound super-sourpuss with a heart disease.

There's also a hard-to-understand trainer/schemer named Turo Escalante (John Ortiz; photo at right), whose put-upon girlfriend, Jo (Jill Hennessy), is one of the track veterinarians. And stuttering Joey Rathburn (Richard Kind), crudely dubbed "Porky Pig" by Escalante, is a jockey agent whose clients currently include an aging drunk (real-life jockey Gary Stevens as Ronnie Jenkins) and an impetuous rookie who has trouble making weight (Tom Payne as Leon).

Add a spunky Irish lass/apprentice jock named Rosie (Kerry Condon) and assorted other characters dropping in and out. Sprinkle with track jargon that may be a foreign language to many. "Vigorish," for instance, is not a high-voltage energy drink. It's the amount charged for making a bet with a bookie -- usually 10 percent.

Luck's focal point is still the horse racing. And thankfully, that's both plentiful and exhilarating. None more so than Episode 4's first time out for Nolte's "Big Horse," with Rosie in the saddle and the owner paying rapt attention while repeatedly banging on his binocs. It's all perfectly shot and choreographed, the sort of edge-of-your-seat stuff that drives Luck into a cinematic winner's circle.

Hoffman and Nolte share roughly an equal amount of screen time, but neither gets as much to do as the hardscrabble quartet of degenerates sharing rooms in the lousily appointed Oasis Motel.

Luck's two marquee stars have nary a scene together during the entire nine-episode run. But their respective blue chip horses are fated to face off in the series' climactic $1 million Western Derby. Hit men also are involved. And it all gets pretty taut, with Ace's hardware man pitted against his boss's would-be assassins.

Farina has never been better, but Hoffman certainly has. His Ace is one tightly wound dude, a collection of ever-thin smiles, prison-fed insecurities and condescending retorts. It's an interesting characterization, and Hoffman is likely to come away with an Emmy nomination, because, well, he's Dustin Hoffman. But Luck's surprisingly best performance is from Kind [photo at right], whose hot-tempered but pathetic Joey is a revelation given the actor's previous rep as a serviceable sitcom supporting player (Spin City, Mad About You).

Luck also is graced by a standout opening theme song and race track atmospherics from head to toe. Horse track betting may be slowly dying on the vine, but this series makes one want to get out there and at least throw around a fistful of $2 bets.

Problem is, how many viewers will buy into this series in the first place? Luck is almost certain to be a tough sell, with its first season perhaps an odds-on favorite to be its last. If so, most of the loose ends are knotted in the end. And the climactic big race in fact has a winner rather than a cliffhanger freeze frame.

Having seen the whole thing, I'd say you should give Luck a chance to slowly pay off. It proudly depicts a gritty/picturesque world that ABC Family's Wildfire only airbrushed during its 2005-08 run. This here is the real deal, with Milch and Mann using HBO's house money to do it their way.

Any takers?

GRADE: B+

Read more by Ed Bark at unclebarky.com

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Fox's 'Touch' Can Be Tough to Grasp

January 23, 2012 11:26 PM

By Ed Bark
unclebarky.com

The numbers, the premise, the interconnectivity and Kiefer Sutherland as a beaten-down airport baggage handler. None of these quite add up in Fox's Touch.

Not that all involved aren't wholly well-intended in this far-flung aspirational new series from the creator and executive producer of NBC's Heroes. Fox is launching it via a special preview episode following Wednesday's (Jan. 25) edition of American Idol. The official series premiere isn't until March 19, when Touch is slated to follow House.

An opening voiceover from the otherwise mute 11-year-old Jake Bohm (David Mazouz) tries to explain what he and the series are all about. Jake has made it his life's work to mix and match numbers whose "patterns never lie." He's thereby able to "make the connections for those who need to find each other. The ones whose lives need to touch." Ergo, the kid's oversized notebooks are jam-packed with long strings of numbers.

All of this makes his poor dad's head hurt. Martin Bohm (Sutherland) is a widower whose well-to-do stockbroker wife, Sarah, perished in the World Trade Center during the 9/11 terrorist attacks. She's left him with a nice three-bedroom loft in a desirable Manhattan neighborhood.

But Martin's penance is Jake, who has never spoken a word and freaks out when touched. It's put dad on a downward spiral. Once a "highly paid reporter at the Herald" in the expository words of social worker Clea Hopkins (Gugu Mbatha-Raw), Martin in recent years has been a doorman, a cab driver, a construction worker and now a JFK Airport baggage handler. He hasn't quite hit rock-bottom yet. Otherwise he'd be a blogger.

Young Jake enjoys the lost-and-found cell phones that his brother brings him from work. Offering him a fresh batch is a way to talk him down from the towers he tends to climb during school hours. Another such excursion leads to an intervention by Clea, who thinks that Jake might do better in foster care.

Touch otherwise capsulizes Jake's worldview via the opening episode's oft-subtitled jaunts abroad.

A teenager in Baghdad aspires to be the next Chris Rock, but his parents face destitution after their in-home bakery oven burns out. Asian call girls hope to make a struggling Australian singer's video go viral. A London businessman is apoplectic about losing his cell phone because it has the last images of his recently deceased daughter. And closer to home, a firefighter keeps playing the same numbers in the lottery while also having two altercations with Sutherland's Martin.

Then there's professor Arthur Teller (guest star Danny Glover), who all too conveniently and unconvincingly unlocks the key to Jake's extraordinary abilities to see the past, present and future -- often all at once. Thus informed, Martin quickly gets with the program, enlisting Clea as his helpmate after she, too, sees the light.

Sutherland's role is a notable departure from 24's Jack Bauer, although he still tends to speak in breathless intonations when under pressure. In both dramas, cell phones are indispensable supporting characters.

It's all a lot to digest, let alone swallow whole. Tim Kring, the Heroes maestro who's also behind Touch, told TV critics during a January press tour session that he's a champion of "social benefit storytelling, the idea of trying to use archetypal narrative to create and promote a positive energy in the world."

That's a noble-sounding aim. And Touch certainly is a change of pace from corpse-choked police procedurals or buddy/buddy/buddy sitcoms.

Whether it will grab you, though, is another matter entirely. Wednesday's opener is a whirlwind of activity and sometimes a breath of fresh air. Still, it's hard to imagine Touch pulling all of this off for any length of time. Especially when the first episode leaves so very many p(l)otholes on those multiple roads to nirvana-ville. Its spirit is willing, but the construction has foundation problems.

GRADE: C+

Read more by Ed Bark at unclebarky.com

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Boston Gets a Gift, New York Gets a Break -- And I May Get an Ulcer

January 23, 2012 8:45 AM

By Eric Gould

Standing at midfield with CBS Sports' JIm Nantz Sunday night, New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady said into the microphone, his words reverberating throughout Gillette Stadium, "I sucked pretty bad today, but our defense saved us."

It was blunt and accurate -- though not, perhaps, the most eloquent post-game recap by a top national sports figure. Especially with kids watching. But you had to admire the honesty and the grit of the moment, which followed a tense, last-minute 32-yard field goal attempt by Baltimore Ravens kicker Billy Cundiff, with the Patriots leading by three points.

Cundiff proceeded to shank it to the left, and handed the Patriots a 23-20 victory they perhaps neither earned nor fully deserved.

Hours later, on another network and another football field, another special-teams mistake led to another last-second victory. Actually, it was a victory after the last second, because it was well into overtime when Kyle Williams of the San Francisco 49ers muffed his second punt return of the day, allowing the New York Giants to pounce on the ball deep in enemy territory.

Four plays later, Giants kicker Lawrence Tynes lined up his 31-yard field goal -- only one yard closer to the goal posts than Cundiff's shanked shot -- and kicked it through the uprights to secure his team's 20-17 win in overtime.

The result: the Patriots and Giants will face each other in a Super Bowl rematch of their 2008 jaw-dropper, when the Giants ended the Patriots' perfect season, and won Super Bowl XLII, with Eli Manning's miraculous last-minute pass play that still pains Patriots fans. Fans like me, for example . . .

Given Brady's passing fireworks this year (he was among three quarterbacks to go over 5,000 yards this season, the first time that's happened in NFL history), and the six touchdowns he threw last week in a divisional playoff (another record), Sunday's game was not the one most people expected.

The Baltimore defense, one of the stingiest in the league this year, played Brady tough all afternoon long. They picked off four of his passes, with two of the interceptions negated by penalties on the Ravens.

It was a game for the Patriots to lose -- literally, as it turned out -- especially with poor play-calling by the New England brain trust, bungling a chance to get a first down, and run out the clock, with two minutes left.

From the Patriots' formation on second down on that series, everyone in the stadium knew they were going to run. And they did. Running back Ben Jarvis Green-Ellis got stuffed behind the line, leaving four yards to go for a first down.

On the next, obvious, passing down they somehow made the ingenious decision to attempt to get the first down, and win the game, by throwing a short pass in the direction of Baltimore free safety Ed Reed.

Reed has been called one of the greatest defenders ever to play the position. Often, he has been referred to as just that by none other than Patriots coach Bill Belichick -- an icon himself, with a unparalleled winning record since he arrived in New England in '00.

Reed was all over the receiver, and that pass dropped incomplete. The Patriots were forced to punt, and Gillette Stadium and the rest of the national audience watched as the Ravens, with plenty of the time left on the clock, marched down the field against a New England defense that was one of the worst in the league in yardage allowed this year.

The Ravens knocked off some large chunks of yardage, and looked likely to score at the end to win -- or at least, easily, to tie the game and send it into overtime.

And then, the unbelievable miss by Cundiff sent the Patriots off in the direction of to Super Bowl XLVI in Indianapolis in two weeks.

It was one of those games where you wondered whether your team (for us here in Boston) won the game, or was just given a freakish gift by other team that shot itself in the foot, so to speak, on its way to tying the game.

You'd be hard pressed to find one pro NFL kicker that wouldn't routinely make that 32 yard kick, anytime, anywhere. Yet both games Sunday had their goats -- one an errant kicker, the other a fumbling punt returner -- and what matters, in the end, is that the Patriots and Giants are meeting again.

That Super Bowl won't be played on NBC until Feb. 5 -- but I'm tense already . . .

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Barky Does 'Dallas' (The Next Generation)

January 22, 2012 10:31 PM

By Ed Bark
unclebarky.com

TNT's new version of Dallas won't be premiering until sometime this summer. But the network already has the opening episode completed, and sent it to TV writers in advance of January's press tour in Pasadena.

This won't be a full review by any means. Instead, consider it an extended first impression. And in that context, Dallas will be getting off to a high, wide and handsome re-start, beginning with a jolt of an early scene in which one of the principal characters gets some life-changing news that propels the rest of the action.

To tell more would be a "spoiler," and TNT sent the review DVD with a request that not too much be given away. So we'll respect that -- most prospective viewers indeed will want to see for themselves.

The famed Dallas theme song remains in place, with Reunion Tower still a key player, along with updated visions of both Rangers Ballpark and Jerry's Palace. The pilot episode's closing scene also originates from the palatial home of the Cowboys, with two characters striding purposefully to the big blue star on the 50-yard line in a meeting of devious minds.

Original cast members Larry Hagman, Patrick Duffy and Linda Gray are returning to their most famous roles, as most everyone knows by now. But Duffy has five or six times as much screen time -- in the opener at least --- as Hagman or Gray.

The younger Ewings, particularly J.R. and Sue Ellen's son, John Ross (Josh Henderson), shoulder a good part of the show's trademark conniving. Very basically put, the flashpoint is a war over Southfork Ranch, which Bobby wants to sell to a protective conservancy while John Ross is intent on exploiting a major new oil discovery. As Bobby puts it, "I promised mama there would be no drilling on Southfork." Well, we'll see about that.

It's a briskly entertaining hour, although the city proper is very little seen -- if at all -- after the opening credits roll. Most of the outdoor action is set at Southfork, site of a big planned wedding for Bobby's adopted son, Christopher (Jesse Metcalfe), and his sexy and seemingly sweet fiancee, Rebecca Sutter (Julie Gonzalo).

Meanwhile, John Ross has taken up with Christopher's ex-girlfriend, Elena Ramos (Jordana Brewster). She's the daughter of the Ewing family cook, Carmen. And unlike the original Dallas, this Hispanic hired helper actually has some speaking lines. There's even a black sheriff deployed in an effort to spike the show with at least a spattering of diversity.

Duffy as Bobby makes a very game effort to breathe new life into the character, while Hagman warms slowly to the challenge of again playing the devil incarnate. That's because early scenes find him silently suffering from clinical depression for reasons that go unexplained. But he's back to his old self in due time, noting that "I'm the one who belongs on Southfork. It's mine and only mine . . . Bobby may not be stupid. But I'm a helluva lot smarter."

Gray has the least to do in Episode 1, but does have a galvanizing scene in which she makes it clear whose side she's on. There also are brief cameos from two of the original's old hands, Steve Kanaly as foreman Ray Krebbs and Charlene Tilton as Lucy Ewing.

A passing reference is made to "that idiot, Cliff Barnes," but so far there's no Ken Kercheval. Victoria Principal's also out of the mix, but Brenda Strong of Desperate Houswives fills in very ably as Bobby's new wife, Annie.

It all plays much better than one might expect, given the overblown trailer that TNT previously made public. Maybe Dallas does in fact have a second wind -- with a mix of new and old Ewings now battling for bragging rights, land, lucre and booty.

"I am sick to death of this family devouring itself over money!" Bobby rages. Yeah, like that's gonna change. TNT's Dallas will see to it that the Ewings keep eating each other alive. And its all-important first episode manages to stir the pot and then some.

Read more by Ed Bark at unclebarky.com

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Swimming with Sharks in the Great Recession

January 19, 2012 4:50 PM

[NOTE: The episode previewed in this article actually will air this coming Friday, Jan. 27 at 8 p.m. ET on ABC. So there's still time to swim with Sharks. - DB]

By David Sicilia

Sometimes a TV show -- even a reality TV show -- can break the bonds of its premise. Shark Tank, which returns to ABC Friday, Jan. 20 at 8 p.m. ET, had a pretty good premise to begin with. The season premiere, though, serves up a couple of engrossing surprises.

For newcomers, the show's formula (created in Japan as Dragon's Den by Nippon Television, and imported two years ago) is that wannabe entrepreneurs get a few minutes to pitch their ideas to five "sharks" -- wealthy businesspeople looking for new investment opportunities. After the pitch, the sharks circle and bite: What are your materials costs? What would prevent anyone else from offering the same service tomorrow? What were your first-year revenues? How do you plan to distribute this?

The capital-hungry contestant comes in with a proposal -- an offer to sell, say, a 25 percent stake in the enterprise for $85,000. The sharks are Barbara Corcoran (real estate); Robert Herjavec (tech); Daymond John (branding and fashion); Kevin "Mr. Wonderful" O'Leary (venture capital); and Mark Cuban (HDNet/Dallas Mavericks), who appears determined, on this show and elsewhere, to celebrity brand himself a la Trump. "Queen of QVC" retail innovator Lori Greiner will also circle the tank during three upcoming episodes.

One by one, the sharks either bail out -- the trademark terminator phrase on this series isn't "You're fired," it's "I'm out" -- or they counter-offer, as in, "I'll give you $50,000 for a 40 percent stake in your company." Losers walk away with zilch. Almost no one gets what she or he originally asks for. For those in between, we get to wonder who got the better deal. In the program's first two years, the sharks collectively sank (sorry) some $4 to $5 million of their money into new ventures.

The fun is in:

1) Vetting the business pitches along with the sharks. Who would ever want to buy that?! Or, how do I sign up?

2) When the sharks get snarly. In this episode, they call one pitchman "nuts," "absurd," and "insane."

3) Watching the sharks nip at each other. Think American Idol, with investment portfolios.

4) The real-time negotiations. One segment in this week's season premiere is high art. These sharks are not about to be oversold or out-negotiated, and it is a numb-skulled contestant who thinks otherwise. So watch as Mark Cuban outmaneuvers Dave Greco, who wants $90,000 for a minority stake in his corporate salesmanship system. Cuban offers a less generous package, adding, "You should take the deal and shut up." Greco does neither. None of the sharks like Greco's mobile apps strategy. In the end, bits of Greco flesh float in a reddened sea.

The way the show is pitched, we are supposed to hate the sharks.

"The only thing that really matters," announces the opening title sequence, is "money." And the sharks are not merely rich, they're "filthy rich." All this amid the Great Recession.

But the sharks are reasonable people, good at what they do. We can learn 11 times more about business from this program than from The Apprentice -- 111 times more than from The Celebrity Apprentice. While Trump and his slicked-back minions and addled has-beens are off conducting group therapy, the sharks here are asking shrewd questions.

Speaking of the Great Recession, the season premiere, in its final segment, turns downright riveting.

It features Donny McCall and his "Invis-a-Rack" -- a hideaway rack for carrying long things over the bed of a pickup truck. Folds up and hides away in seconds, as Donny demonstrates.

A soft-spoken, polite man from North Carolina, Donny tells the sharks how his wife didn't like the ugly permanent racks he was using, and "the Lord handed me this idea." The product will be made only in America, Donny insists. He wants to create jobs back in his hometown, where unemployment and suffering run deep. He can barely get the words out.

The sharks sit in silence.

But then they push him on the outsourcing question. What are his current production costs per unit? Suppose he could produce the Invis-a-Rack overseas much more cheaply -- cheaply enough to be picked up by a major distributor? Donny gives a couple of reasoned justifications, but his deeper motives are clear. God, country, community.

As the sharks continue, we, the audience, hear compelling arguments about the realities of globalization, and how an entrepreneur needs to first make sure the business is a success before he tries to change the world. Daymond John even has a slogan for this: "Make it, Master it, Matter." In that order.

Our heads are with the sharks, our hearts with Donny.

Suddenly, Robert Herjavec is talking about how his father, who passed away last year, had toiled in a factory his whole life. Herjavec -- an American success story -- knows exactly what Donny is feeling and trying to do. He, too, can barely get the words out as his chin quivers.

This moving and informative set piece on global capitalism could not have been scripted any better. It's a compelling piece of television.

In the end, does Herjavec, or do any of the other sharks, buy into Donny McCall's venture?

Dive in.

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ABC's 'Work It' Doesn't - And Dies so That 'Cougar Town' May Live

January 18, 2012 7:30 AM

By Ed Bark
unclebarky.com

ABC's critically reviled Work It, canceled after a two-episode infliction, will be replaced on Valentine's night by the returning Cougar Town, ABC announced Tuesday.

It was an unexpectedly quick reprieve for Cougar Town, whose creator, Bill Lawrence, had been notably unhappy with ABC's treatment of the show. So much so that he held his own guerrilla party Jan. 9, on the eve of ABC's day-long presentations to TV critics during the just-concluded winter "press tour" in Pasadena.

Lawrence and the stars of the show, including Courteney Cox, gathered in a hotel bar to pointedly express their concerns before ABC entertainment president Paul Lee told TV writers the following morning that Cougar Town was "tentatively in there for March."

"We love the show... We're going to give it a really good launch pad," Lee said, commending Lawrence for what he termed a "pirate job" of getting the word out about Cougar Town.

Cougar Town will follow Tim Allen's Last Man Standing Tuesdays at 8:30 p.m. ET. Reruns of the Allen sitcom are filling that slot until Feb. 14.

Read more by Ed Bark at unclebarky.com

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