The Secret Life Of A Really Crap TV Show

Some of you out there may be aware that there is a whole world of television out there that the Australian Television Networks would like us not to know about - or to know about a long long time after everyone else. As a result, it's not entirely unheard of for certain Square Arses to seek out their televisual pleasures from less than conventional sources. We're not pirates, per se - although I can't deny that it's sometimes fun to don an eye patch and roll your rrrs - but we're not angels either. We're addicts. It's not our fault. 

Anyway, it's not all flowers and sunshine over this side of the fence. The networks may be evil, but sometimes they do have their hearts in the right place. Sometimes they're not showing us Law & Order repeats because they want to, but because they're protecting us from something far far worse. Like the appalling The Pussycat Dolls Presents: Girlicious.

Or The Secret Life Of The American Teenager. 

Those of you who have never seen an episode of Seventh Heaven - as well as being blessed and lucky and much much happier than me - may also have missed the talents of one Brenda Hampton, the show's creator and head writer. On the other hand, if you're like me and have been scarred by the Camdens, Brenda has probably taught you many things about life, such as that drinking half a beer is probably the most evil thing you can do and will lead to you leading a shit life, that hitting and killing someone with your car is bad - unless of course the person you hit smoked pot once, that Christians never say the word Jesus - unless it is the name of their hamster, and - perhaps most chillingly, that a cell phone and charger count as two items. 

Or do they? Watch the series finale and find out. 

Seventh Heaven ran for eleven long and horrible years. And if that's evidence enough that Brenda Hampton is indeed the Devil, she's back with a new show: The Secret Life of The American Teenager - which - if the early indicators are anything to go by, will also go for years and years and years, much to the chagrin of any of us who has lost a TV after one or two great seasons. 

It's the story of Amy, your average all-american fifteen year old who accidentally slept with Ricky at band camp, and got pregnant. Amy has a creepy dad who is way too interested in her sex life, a younger sister who dresses like a Veronica, two friends who think that the perfect solution to her problem is to sleep with someone else and trick him into thinking he's the father so he marries her, and a new boyfriend - Ben - who tells her he loves her after one date. 

It's also the story of Grace, a Christian who is saving herself for marriage. Grace has creepy Christian parents who also take way too much interest in her sex life, a brother with Down Syndrome who's discouraged from going out in public, lest anyone see him, and a boyfriend - Jack, who was all good with the no-sex-until-marriage thing until she started wearing a promise ring given to her by her creepy parents, at which point he realised that he was a horny teenager and - saddened by Grace's confirmation that Oral Sex Does Count - went off and shagged Adrien, the school slut.

Of course, this being a Brenda Hampton show, no-one who willingly has sex just does it because it's fun.  Ricky tells his therapist that he's a manwhore and possibly a chronic masturbator because he was sexually abused as a child, and Adrien's mother is a flight attendant - which in Brenda's world, is code for 'bad bad person' (that's what Mary Camden became after drinking that half-beer) - and she's always being abandoned at home by herself. 

Add to the mix a wierd and creepy Asian girl whose entire role seems to be showing up every now and then to spout off sex statistics, a guidance counsellor who - without ever having met her - tells Ben that Amy feels shame and embarrassment about having had sex with Ricky, and awful, repetitive, stilted dialogue, and you have the formula for, well, shockingly bad TV.

And this is shockingly bad TV. Have no doubts. The production values are in the toliet. The background music is recycled from Seventh Heaven. The acting is woeful. The characters are stereotypes. The messages are heavy-handed and apallingly conservative and one-sided. 

Just like with Seventh Heaven, this show employ the 'tell, don't show' method of storytelling, and seems to pride itself on never using certain words that would seem key to the plot. So far, two episodes in, I think we've heard the word 'pregnant' once, with most characters preferring an awkward 'you know ...' while looking at Amy's uterus. 

Possibly the saddest thing about this show? Molly Ringwald as Amy's mother. It's hard not to yell 'why, Molly, WHY?' every time she appears on screen, and despairing for the future of our current crop of quirky teen stars, if this is what they have to look forward to. WHY MOLLY WHY???

Brenda Hampton has said in interviews that she'd like the pregnancy to go for several seasons, because there are 'so many great stories to tell'. Given the ratings so far - scarily high for it's cable channel home - and the fact that she is the devil, she'll probably get her way. And then there will be a spin-off, which will also run forever. 

So consider this a warning. Under no circumstances should you even give this show a chance. If - as will probably happen - one of our networks picks it up, just say no. Stay innocent. Stay pure. Stay untarnished. Don't let get you. Don't let her win. 

An in case you're wondering - it's too late for me. She's won. I'm currently downloading episodes three and four and I'll be watching them as soon as humanly possible. 

Pray for me. 

It all falls into place....

ZOMG.

Is it possible they made an entire season of Californication, just so that David Duchovny could resurrect his career to the point where a second X-Files movie was given the green light?

I wonder if they could make another series of Magnum P.I., in the hopes of resurrecting 3 Men and a Baby?

Would make about as much sense.

Big Brother, as we all know, will not be on television from next year, THANK GOD. Which means that three months' worth of prime-time television will have to be filled by Ten, and I'm curious as to how it will be done. More of Ten's unofficial flagship program, The Simpsons? Perhaps. I hope it's not going to be some shockingly bad reality program stolen from American television, although it probably will be. Ugh. I still want to savour the feeling of Big Brother's cancellation for a little while longer. Seriously, I'm embarrassed by my early optimism ahead of this year's "rejuvenated" BB format. Rejuvenated my arse. I haven't watched a full episode of BB since my last post here two months ago; the sentiment at the end of which pretty much encapsulated my feelings then and now. I don't really care who wins it this year, but if you pressed me, I guess I'd say Terri. Whatever. Although I still kind of like Ben.

Australian Idol



YAY! I know last year's final was about as memorable as what you had for breakfast that morning, but something in me still absolutely adores Idol. The promos for this year are slightly worrying, for several reasons. First, because now we pretty much know who the final 50 are. Smooth move, Ten. And second, because the women appear to be more butch than ever, and the men are bigger pansies than ever. Why the HIGH VOICES? I blame Benji Mac.

Who else sniggers at that red haired guy? American Idol already did the nerdy-red-hair-guy-is-way-out-of-his-league a few years ago:

RED POWER!

Foxtel Fulminations: Hannah Montana

So, I get that I'm probably not in the target age demographic for the show Hannah Montana, featuring Miley Cyrus, but I'm a little bit bemused. Bemused both by the show itself and Miley Cyrus' inexplicable popularity among the kiddies of generations younger than my own. I've seen the show, and... it reminds me of Drake and Josh, Lizzie McGuire and that show featuring Dylan and Cole Sprouse (those blonde fuckers who used to play Ross's son on Friends. Let's hear it for random trivia!). In other words, the whole stupid show is poorly written, its young stars drive me to distraction with their underdeveloped, over-wrought acting, and the laugh track is as effective as the condom you used to keep in your wallet before you realised that it's pretty much fucked due to the change in temperature that occurs whenever you take your wallet out of your pocket. I don't quite know what my point is. I suppose I just enjoy tut-tutting over how impressionable children are.

Miley Cyrus is bulimic, meaning that she can read minds

As for her popularity, well: While I can understand why Hilary Duff was popular (her songs weren't altogether terrible, and she is quite pretty), Miley Cyrus's popularity really bothers me. It has nothing to do with that skanky photo shoot, or the fact that her creepy Keith Urban-esque dad probably took her virginity years ago -- although these facts do little to help the situation. Everyone seems to skip over the fact that she has a busted set of teeth, and she has a voice much older than her fifteen years would suggest, both of which are possibly related to an undiagnosed bout of The Bulimia. She sounds exactly like an emphysemic, chain smoking fifty-five year old woman. With the aforementioned busted teeth. Shudder.

Worst. Show. Ever.

Mark Loves Sharon.

Nuff said.