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The O.C.- the new Fox series with the distinctive
talents of film directors Doug Limon and McG at the helm-
has been getting a lot of media coverage as of its pre-fall
premiere a few weeks ago. Most commentators are drawn to comparisons
to an earlier youth-driven show that was a flag ship of early
Fox: Beverly Hills 90210. But as teenager, I never
bought that show and watching those characters mature from
high schoolers to near senior citizens by the finale. The
series seemed to rely too heavily on the fish-out-of-water
concept of this family from Minnesota moving to the ritziness
and sun of L.A. Sure, it's tough on a kid to relocate but
these characters never seem to have any additional reactions
not unseen by Eva Gabor in Green Acres. Plus, the Beverly
Hills of the Aaron Spelling Universe seemed to ask the audience
to laugh at the absurdity of location rather than allowing
anyone to relate to it. This environment of 90210 and
the following relation Melrose Place were fake and
tacky enough. But Spelling tried to draw this out and make
it an exaggeration. Thus, every character was a joke or a
centerpiece of camp. There's no wonder that the "breakout"
stars of those shows -Jason Priestly, Luke Perry, Shannen
Doherty, Andrew Shue - haven't been seen much since. They
were never more than punchlines at best and mere scenery at
worst. And these are two problems, pervasive in most teenage
dramas since, seem to have been overcome by The O.C. This
show takes its fish and doesn't move him out of the water,
but just moves him into more treacherous parts of the water.
This is a character subject to class conflict and his conflict
occurs in a place that seems remotely familiar to anyone who
has ever lived or known a disgustingly phony upper-middle
class/rich neighborhood. No exaggerations, no indirect jokiness,
just the portrait of the intersection of Insecurity and Wealth.
Plus, the creative forces behind the scenes are choice with
their casting and are able to sprinkle enough pop culture
references for comic relief. The result may not be perfect,
but The O.C. is a budding phenomenon none the less.
In "The Pilot", we meet Ryan (Benjamin McKenzie)
as he and his older brother are getting busted for trying
to hot-wire a car near their trailer park home in Chino. While
brother is left in jail, Ryan goes home and gets into a fight
with his Mom's boyfriend. And is Mom a piece of work: Imagine
Kim Basinger with thirty extra pounds and a bad meth habit.
He understandably bolts and the only person he can turn to
is Sandy Cohen (Peter Gallagher), his public defender. Sandy
picks him up in a new BMW and I'm thinking: What kind of crap
show is this? That car is worth five yearly salaries of a
public defender! But we soon learn that Sandy married Kristen
(Kelly Rowan), the daughter of a big real estate developer
who dated and wed Sandy despite his poor background and crap
job. Sandy sees potential in this kid (although one wonders
if Sandy hasn't got used to sad-sack cases by now) and takes
him home. Home turns out to be this big-ass house on the ocean
in Newport Beach, an affluent and very Republican chuck of
the titular Orange County that is notorious for being affluent
and very Republican. Kristen is very wary about leering about
letting this poor boy from the wrong side of the tracks stay
in the pool house until Sandy reminds her that she married
someone from the same background. Even more initially reluctant
but on a quicker turnaround is their son Seth (Adam Brody),
whose boyish good looks should keep him from being a social
outcast but still fits the bill perfectly. Ryan remains overwhelmed
yet so desperate to remove himself from his past that he begins
to make up stories about where he's from and is eager to attend
any social gathering. Ryan also appears to be slightly overwhelmed
by Marissa (Mischa Barton), the girl next door who he meets
while sneaking a smoke. Marissa's parents are equally compelling:
Mom is Julie (Melinda Clarke), a social beast who we later
learn is hiding a rather lower class past and Jimmy (Tate
Donovan), who is Kristen's old high school flame who has some
shady problems with the S.E.C. All of these characters and
their problems swirl through the beaches and neighborhood
of the O.C. like multiple hormone and money-fueled tornados
developed from clashing cultural winds.
And the destruction left in their path are enormously fascinating.
While there have been only three episodes, The O.C. has
focused primarily on Ryan's awkwardness in these new setting,
the communities awkwardness towards him, and the romantic
tension between him and Marissa. These are standard plot devices
in these types of dramas, but this show is particularly smart
in executing them. I like how McKenize plays Ryan: He's not
some sassy, pissed "poor kid" who resents these
people around him. He wants a chance like this and is mad
for the bum deal he's been passed throughout his life. Sure,
his attitude is lousy but yours would be too if Dad was in
jail for armed robbery and Mom was a trashy wreck. He evokes
Dean and Brando, but only in that same way Eminem did in his
screen debut. Indeed, the second episode had Ryan in a pulled-up
hood evoking the response: "You're a long way from 8
Mile, bitch!" But not really. The O.C. recognizes
that most cities in this country draw a very fine line between
have's and have not's. In Kansas City, it's State Line Road.
In Memphis and St. Louis, it's the Mississippi River. And
here, it's the physical and psychological difference between
Chino and Newport Beach. This show seems to understand that
the real dividing line anymore is not geographical like it
was in 90210 or even race which catapulted Will Smith
in The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. As class has taken
a forefront in many people's view of a divided society, McG
and Limon have figured out how to blend this into a pop culture
sensibility in some of the same ways McG did with gender politics
and the Charlie's Angels film. The end result looks
like those earlier Spelling series but the feel and the sound
convey something a little deeper. There's something truly
fascinating in "Episode Three: Casino Night" where
Ryan's Mom returns for reconciliation yet ends up melting
down in an alcoholic blitz at the neighborhood fundraising
event. Here are these assholes giving their money to a charity
and then treating this "charity case" as though
she's an extreme freak show. This shows a true hypocritical
falseness that might have been turned into a redeeming moment
for these people somewhere else. "Hey, somebody help
her!" is a possible example. Here, this disgusted gawking
a matter of fact. Moments like this indicate that Ryan is
going to get sucked in like quick sand and he'll either succomb
or fight his way out. Mass redemption seems out of reach of
Ryan's talents. Fortunately, his looks and The Wild Ones
nature never wears out their welcome. He has a charm and a
presence that doesn't feel forced or contrived. Kind of like
a leading man should have. And Barton shows enough hidden
emotion and pain under Marissa that makes that character rise
above the poor little rich girl treatment that is normally
offered. She is as much of a victim of her environment as
Ryan is. Until something radical happens, the tragedy of this
relationship will be that Marissa is stuck with her jerk of
a boyfriend and that is consistent within the social contract.
It's never overplayed yet sad none the less. Plus, there's
an edgy, sex-driven sense of humor to the show. If a character
isn't making reference to X-Men or Eminem, they are
just being downright nasty. "Hey, I bet even you could
bang her now," one teenage boy says to another in response
to Ryan's stumbling drunk of a mother. Ah, who doesn't miss
those Salad Days of Youth?
While the young cast drives the show, The O.C. has
done a pretty good job with the development of the parents.
Sandy is driven yet secretly guilty about his lucky breaks
and has no problem with rebelling against his wife's stuck-up
friends even under the guise of her social power and money.
And the nature of Jimmy's conflict is developing into the
most interesting of the show. Here's a guy who has fallen
victim to the "Keeping up with the Jones'" syndrome
in the worst way possible and his financial reliance on old-flame
Kristen is an escalating situation that begs tuning in for
the next show. This kind of approach and this kind of depth
are head and shoulders over The O.C.'s predecessors
and promises to keep the show sharp and the beginning - not
the end - of the cast's careers. And since Columbia won't
be making a third Charlie's Angels, McG can surely
hang around and keep the show's appropriate arc in check.
I just hope he lets go before McKenzie develops Luke Perry's
receding hairline.
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