Again? Give us a chance to miss these people, for God's sake! Criminy. This retrospective aired as part of that ridiculous Dateline goodbye special, then on its own the very next night before the finale and now, two weeks later? I don't see my family this often. Not that clips aren't hilarious, but you can only get so many miles out of this without it becoming a slideshow of how much the gang aged over the past 10 years. Trust me, NBC, we won't forget them, OK? At least not before they start showing up on Joey next fall.
60 Minutes II
So I tuned in to this for the Matthew Broderick interview and got sucked in by this report on the Green Berets, which was like, the first time they allowed cameras to follow them. And you know what? I think the Broderick piece was more insightful. At least with Ferris, the fakery was kept to a minimum. Sarah Jessica Parker glowed that her biggest gripe with hubby was that he walked too slow and Nathan Lane blathered on about how he's "so underappreciated," thus negating those of us who still think War Games deserved an Oscar. With the Berets, this hot newsbabe followed the guys around Afghanistan, being all Christiane Amanpour in burkha couture that was as ill-fitting as her look of faux concern. "Aren't you scared?" she asks one of them. Please, woman, we're talking about trained killers! Of course, you'd never know it from all the huggy-feely footage of them rebuilding a mosque and treating an injured girl. Right. Broderick came off as more lethal, talking about his car crash in Ireland that killed a mother and child back in the '80s. Seriously, this was like some TV-G rated military-recruitment film meant to change our minds about those pesky little prison-abuse atrocities. So instead, I just changed the channel to...
...where aliens and underground labs pack more emotional weight than newsmag puff pieces. And boy, we did get some heaviness. But somebody really needs to Fed-Ex Clark a clue that any Kryptonian visitor with the body of a Hustler model and the range of a Shannon Elizabeth is gonna be nothing but trouble. Especially when she asks you to go back to your home planet, then makes you fly! Faster than you can say "season finale," the Teen of Steel is getting every reason to go, with Lex confessing that he's been using Clark for the last three years for info on his own freaky life and Lana sharing a big wet-eyed goodbye with the bald baddie before leaving for Paris. His friends suck! Who cares that, for some bizarre, girls-from-14-18-demographic-inspired reason, he had to travel the cosmos completely nekkid. I'd skip that no-Starbucks town, too. Though I'd probably wear cargos and a light top. It's just a smarter look for me.
Huh. So this is how it all ends? Interesting. I'm sure the cybervamps are up in arms over that final shot, but I say, "Yeah, Joss Whedon." Framing the ender like The Godfather saga's primo killing-spree montages was a nice touch, especially since Angel and crew have been dealing with their own sort of underworld figures for five years now. Horned, scaly ones, but hey, Mo Green was no looker, either. And I'm sorry, but who needs Sarah Michelle Gellar when we got Fred's teary return to guide the poor, valiant Wes to the other side, Lindsey finally biting it big-time and Connor coming back to help Daddy kick Hamilton's butt. Let's just hope Adam Baldwin's double-breasted suit doesn't rise from the dead with him for the inevitable reunion movie. I mean, seriously, dude, I know you're evil and all, but come on. It's 2004. All the best demons are sporting three-buttons this year. Other than that, I applaud the writers for sending our hero out swinging. After all, he did admit to being at the first taping of The Carol Burnett Show. Anyone having that much fun in the '70s probably knows a thing or two about swinging, right?
Click here for Matt Roush's take on the Angel finale. Plus: Joss Whedon sounds off on Angel's future in Insider.
I know, I know. Last week, I swore off this show and just plain swore after my girl La Toya's ouster. And I fully intended to honor my boycott. Then that awful Ryan Seacrest seduced me with a chance to see Tamyra Gray perform twice and my integrity disappeared as quickly as this show's has. Dag, that girl can blow! Thankfully, my secret shame was assuaged by the long-awaited eviction of Hawaiian howler Jasmine Trias, leaving Fantasia to take on poor little Diana at next week's slaughter... er, I mean, finale. As for the performance by Australian Idol winner Guy Sebastian, well, he sure has a good voice. But that Justin Guarini home-perm thing on his head? No. I had to turn away. Too bad what I turned to was...
...because watching Tara barf in that bejeweled dress is not what I consider a gift, you know? Neither is a bloated two-hour finale, for that matter, but how can you deny the chance to see Jesse get all cross-eyed over everyone's split opinions about Jessica and the aforementioned regurgitator? Mama Palmer likes the young one; Pops digs the contractor; and Jenny S., looking like a Russian mail-order bride with her roots showing and those razor's edge eyebrows, wants both of them to be her best friend. What's a guy to do? Hot tub, of course! That's right. The night before the big decision, we get one last dip, proving that this show is less about romance than it is about reveling in the power of barely concealed breasts over man's ability to form a decision. Or a sentence. Good thing the producers hooked Palmer up with that cheesy-eloquent invite for Jessica to join him in New York. He probably would have choked as much as he did when Tara fed him that tirade about leading her on. You go, girl! Just be careful, though. Last time a blonde ticked off a football player, things got really ugly.
So, apparently E! is dumping its sleazier programs in favor of more celebrity stroking. This leaves me a tad torn. On one hand, good. The quality of paparazzi shots has dropped faster than Melanie Griffith's face. On the other hand, I'm going to miss this unapologetically tacky fix of footage from Shannen Doherty's sex-shop sprees and Tobey Maguire's low-speed getaways from the crowding photogs. I guess I'll just have to settle for Joan dishing Melissa's episiotomy on the red carpet and Anna Nicole's humping dog. 'Cause you know, that's not sleazy or anything.