2002-01-10 - 2:31 p.m.
The best thing I can say about Tuesday night�s Buffy is that at least it didn�t reek quite as much as the "Wicca Madness" episode that preceded it. I suppose I was hoping that the writers, having written themselves into the darkest and stinkiest of corners, would come to their senses and pretend the Willow�s-magic-addiction storyline never happened--that�s the only way to pull their pistachios out of the fire at this point. But no. Here it is, two days later and my head still hurts from all the anvils dropped on it.
I realize that 12-step programs are the state religion of Hollywood, but must every show it produces eventually turn into a metaphor for some screenwriter�s substance-abuse problems? It all reminds me of why I stopped reading mainstream fiction once every new novel on the shelf was some thinly disguised autobiographical account of the author�s formerly repressed incest memories. This sort of writing-as-art-therapy is killing American culture.
Oh well. Even if Buffy has jumped the shark, there�s still 24 to keep me glazed-eyed in front of the TV on Tuesday nights. I�ve gotten seriously hooked on that show. Sure, it�s on Fox, it�s melodramatic as all get-out, its writers display a weird ignorance of L.A. geography (since when can you drive from the Westside to Van Nuys in 10 minutes?), it employs the X-Filesy plot device of having its characters weave their secretive plots over cell phones (the least secure form of communication there is short of semaphore flags) and it all too often resorts to TV cliches of the "Ohmigod, she�s dead! No she�s not, she�s wearing a bulletproof vest!" variety--but the real-time structure is interesting, and let�s face it, the Tough but Tender Federal Agent Who Doesn�t Play by the Rules is the sort of TV role Kiefer Sutherland was destined to play by the time he hit 40.
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