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October 2001:
Has Kelley Finally Gone Over the Edge?
Diane Werts
October 29, 2001
FIRST IT WAS a severed hand on "Picket Fences." Then a
severed head on "The Practice." Now it's a severed ...
well, you'll find out if you watch tonight's season opener of
"Boston Public." But what should we expect from a
writer-producer who made his TV mark on "L.A. Law" by
dropping a nasty lady down an elevator shaft?
David E. Kelley has always been out there. But now he may have
gone over the edge. In back to back season premieres tonight of
Fox's "Boston Public" (at 8) and "Ally McBeal"
(at 9, both on WNYW/5), Kelley's wacky world gets even more
gonzo.
"Boston Public" at least has meat beneath the
inflammatory froth. Teens bullying each other, considering
suicide, shafting study for sports, cracking under academic
pressure- these were real issues in the series' first season,
which, nonetheless, managed too often to undercut its own impact
with absurd occurrences and superfluous crudeness. Yet amid the
odd appetites, we actually did see teachers struggling to help
kids learn, to make kids learn. This was perhaps an exaggerated
battleground but one that still resonated with the importance of
education, the difficulty of discipline and the nobility of
providing both when nobody thinks you're doing enough of either.
So what's the first thing we see as "Boston Public"
begins its second season? That would be new cast addition Jeri
Ryan, best known as "Star Trek: Voyager's" skintight-costumed
Seven of Nine. And where do we see her? First, in bed, another
tousled blonde looking gorgeous even as she wakes up in the
morning. Then, in the shower.
She eventually will do something noble herself, as a corporate
attorney who gives up a six-figure income to become "a
minimum-wage baby-sitter," complains boyfriend Billy Zane,
who seems more a shallow contrivance than a character.
"There's no danger of scar tissue practicing corporate
law," Ryan insists in her own overscripted retort.
"There's no pain, there's no joy. I guess I just FELT more
today," she says of addressing a class of rowdies that
eventually devolves into a fistfight promoted by her teacher pal
Nicky Katt. Like that's gonna happen.
And "like that's gonna happen" becomes the mantra for
this David E. Kelley evening. Last season's "Public"
plot about a pressured boy rebelling under mom Kathy Baker's
stern hand grows so far-fetched tonight (and yet feels so
predictable) that the show's better-grounded moments seem to
float up into the ether right along with it. While it's always
been true that Kelley's tonality can be an acquired taste-a
topical mix of the serious, sentimental, silly and macabre-it
has reached a height that even fans may feel uneasy following.
"Ally McBeal" was always nutty, of course, built
around its heroine's visualized daydreams, effects- exaggerated
reactions and general ditsy charm. At least until last season,
when Robert Downey Jr. arrived to romance Calista Flockhart and
added unexpected weight to her dithering dilemmas. The guy had
gravity even when goofy. The show's emotional consequences grew
imperative, somehow, even when his small son hopped a plane
alone to seek Ally to sue his parents. Like that's gonna happen.
Yet it didn't matter. The underlying feelings felt real.
Tonight's fourth season premiere-minus the magnificent Downey,
of course, after his sad substance relapse-sorely tests that
tenuous hold on our credence. Ally literally runs into herself
in the form of ditsy younger attorney Julianne Nicholson
("The Others"). Turns out she works at the same firm
as this boyfriend she broke up with, yada yada, messy hairstyle,
bubblehead babble. She's Ally's Mini-Me, or perhaps Mini-Mess.
Surprisingly, Nicholson does offer as appealing a persona as
Flockhart, all charmingly convoluted impulsiveness. These girls
are likable.
But they ARE girls. "Ally McBeal" is a reverse- image
"Bugsy Malone," with adults playing kid roles this
time around. As Nicholson's colleagues, newcomers James Marsden
and Josh Hopkins are young pretty-boys who mostly fuel Ally's
lethargic libido. The series seems more a trifle than ever. And
a tired trifle at that.
"Boston Public" at least boasts some terrific acting
additions. Ryan is solid once you look beyond the necklines and
high-heeled legs that Kelley's camera seems to favor. Mousy
biology instructor Leslie Jordan ("Hearts Afire") adds
a different dimension, as does streetwise teacher Michael
Rapaport. Let's hope they manage to keep their heads, and other
body parts, long enough for producer Kelley to find his.
Copyright © 2001, Newsday,
Inc.
"Practice,"
"Ally McBeal," plan to incorporate terrorist
attacks
Emmys
rescheduled for Nov. 4
Emmy
Decision Wasn't Easy
Emmys
Cancelled -- For the Time Being
Hollywood
Cautious About Going Forward with Emmys
Onscreen, the murky set of The
Practice doesn't seem the most welcoming atmosphere.
Behind the scenes, however, it's a different story. "Can I
just say that I fell in love with Michael Badalucco?"
says Jeffrey Tambor, who guest starred on last night's
episode, "Liar's Poker." "What a great actor and
what a great guy. I can't say enough about him."
Best known for his portrayal of needy, self-absorbed sidekick
Hank on HBO's The Larry Sanders Show, Tambor plays
Jimmy's (Badalucco) menacing sports bookie, who collects on a
gambling debt by enlisting his legal services. "This is not
Hank Kingsley," insists the actor. "This is Hank
Kingsley's exact opposite. The character is very different from
how I usually play. We all have a dark side... so you draw on
it."
The dark side looks bright when you consider The Practice's
track record of Emmy noms for guest-starring roles alone: That's
10 nominations since 1998, with five wins — including one this
year for actor Michael Emerson, who recurred as
head-chopping serial killer William Hinks.
While this trend may bode well for Tambor — a four-time
Emmy nominee for Sanders — he has other things on his
mind this weekend: He's getting married this Saturday in New
Orleans. "I'm so excited!" he says. "The woman
I'm marrying, Kasia Ostlun, she's fabulous and we're real
excited. We met in New York while I was filming Meet Joe
Black. We both frequented the same jazz club and that was
that."
That chance meeting led to romance. But, as always, the
public can be fickle (or confused) in its candid reactions to TV
celebs. Laughs Tambor: "I get [Hank's catchphrase], 'Hey,
now!' I get, 'Wow, thank you for all your work. You're just
incredible.' And last week, a person came up to me in Starbucks
and said, 'Oh, can I have your autograph? You are Dr. Phil
[from Oprah], aren't you?' I [thought], 'My career has
changed in a moment's notice.'" — Danny
Spiegel
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