Bedford Diaries Ahh, bittersweet...
Bedford Diaries
Ahh, bittersweet premiere. Given that
Milo Ventimiglia already made a beeline for NBC's upcoming
Heroes, I couldn't help but feel that WB was just going through the motions here — but hey, I understand. They spent good money on this show and they're gonna air it, by golly. More power to them. OK, before we bite into the meat of this sandwich, I admit it: I had high expectations for this show. Can you blame me? It was created by
Barry Levinson and
Tom Fontana, and if those names sound familiar, it's because they also created a little show called
Homicide: Life on the Street, all seven seasons of which grace my DVD shelf. And I wish I could say that
Bedford was everything I thought it'd be, but my mom taught me lying was bad. There was nothing wrong with the premise — college kids learn about sex in an ultraliberal NYC school, can you say
ka-ching? — but that's where the good ended and the soppy, melodramatic writing began. And it's a shame, because a couple of the characters could potentially be pretty compelling: Ventimiglia's rich boy Richard and
Corri English's "crazy" Natalie, for example. When he kissed her forehead and walked away,
that was an original moment, though I wish the writers had kept their relationship hidden a little longer. That's true across the board, actually — everybody blabbed so much about their issues/problems/backgrounds that I now know everything about everybody, which isn't the smartest way to keep an audience coming back week after week. Here's hoping for better future eps, otherwise we're gonna have a dull hour of TV on our hands. And that, boys and girls, is something even sex can't fix.
