Acorns for the Blind Pig

Fortunately I've had enough amusement distractions this summer to avoid most of what television has to provide. Despite the 168-plus stations avaialble it has largely been that Minnowesque "Vast Wasteland" (don't you love these arcane 45-year old cultural references?) But within the parched landscape of TV there are a few acorns upopn which that proverbial blind pig could stumble. And I'm not talking about the totally bizarre revival of ballroom dancing shows (who'd a thunk Arthur Murray would have been a pioneer?) But I have found two quite rivetting reality shows, to my shock and bemusement.

First there is NBC Thursday night entry "The Law Firm," a very tidily produced combination of "People's Court" and "The Apprentice" managing to improve on the most involving elements of both, without the seediness of the former or the cheesiness of Trump. The Trump surrogate here is attorney Roy Black, of whom I've never heard but whom the applicants hold in deep esteem. His persona is much softer than Trump's, though on some level he has to be an asshole. He decides to eliminate two candidates week as the hordes of rapacious but telegenic young lawyers compete for a spot in his office. Like in the Trump (and soon to be Martha Stewart) tournaments, the players have to participate in tasks, in this case representing clients in civil suits, with the decisions legally binding. And the winners are not necessarily spared elimination, if their performance is lacking. Furthermore, the court cases have the same relatable appeal as those that made "People's Court," "Judge Judy" and their ilk so involving.

The executive producer of "The Law Firm" is David Kelley, the lawyer-cum-producer whose credits include "Ally McBeal" and the wonderful "Picket Fences," as well as a marriage to the great beauty Michelle Pfeiffer. Here's a guy who knows what he's doing. And you know what? I'd take Michelle over Melania. Sorry, The Donald.

One problem with this show is that not one of the candidates will excite the least bit of sympathy. As the joke goes, what do you call all the contestants on "The Law Firm" standing at the bottom of the ocean? A good start. But the pace of the show, and the relative short run of the program (eight weeks) represents a producer's learning curve in the reality genre.

The same can't quite be said of Bravo's entry called "Situation: Comedy". This is a variation on HBO's Project Greenlight, which put two novice screenwriters in the enviable position of having their script produced and filmed, just to see how they'd flounder while playing with the Big Boys. A certain smugness there from the mavens of show business, which in this case include myself. Sean Hayes of "Will and Grace" and his coproducer and staff winnowed through thousands of comedy pilots to find ten finalists, two of which would be produced in a presentation form (15 minutes rather than 22), for judgment by the public and hopefully, consideration by NBC. The same NBC geniuses who gave us "Joey" and "Committed"--and those were their best shows. Already the idea is hysterical.

I must admit that, as a former sitcom writer, producer, teacher and seminar leader, this is truly an arena of my expertise, which is why I'm so enraptured by the project, even given its obvious flaws. I know that with small twists of fate I could have been one of the judging executives, or the supervising executives hired to help the finalists (I actually know one of the two who was hired, and consider that person a hissable slimebucket). It fascinates me to watch the neophyte writers trying to balance their innate arrogance with the demands and limitations of production. I have known so many of their like.

Two episodes have been aired so far or a projected six, leading to the showing of the two presentations and the nationwide vote. The first episode was bogus to a certain extent, because when the finalists were pared to five scripts, only two had been written by teams. Now anyone who's watched any reality shows must realize they live and die on the conflicts between the personalities. Therefore it was mandatory for the producers to select as the finalists the two teams, rather than individual writers. Nothing would have made more boring footage than watching a single writer trying to internalize the notes of an NBC executive. A lively, emotional dialectic is absolutely essential. So those poor single writers were dead in the water. Except that they probably could use the exposure, like participants in other talent contests like "American Idol," to get an agent and a foothold in the industry.

The projected ideal of "Situation: Comedy" is to "find the next great American sitcom." This would be laughable if it weren't so uttely sad. With all the unemployed comedy writers floundering around, disenfranchised by the Reality phenomenon, you'd think there wre gold nuggets to be found rather than having to call out to the hinterlands. I have read many many scripts by emerging writers, have taught such students for years, and never found anything close to a marketable script, much less a breakthrough sample to revivify the genre. The two scripts selected by NBC exec Kevin Reilly hardly seemed innovative. One was about a young boy facing the world with great aspirations ("Boy Meets World," "The Wonder Years") and the other is called, provocatively "Sperm Donor," but it's a domestic living-room sitcom about the title character who enters the life of his family (""My Two Dads," "Who's the Boss," ad infinitum).

It's only my intense familiarity with the genre and the aspirant writers that will keep me glued to my seat, but I will be vastly enterained, even as I groan at the ineptitude of the writers when faced with their reality. But at least this program, along with the pseudoreality sitcom "The Comeback," paint an accurate picture of the sitcom world. Yes, writers are stubborn, executives are clueless, and actors are oblivious. Maybe that's why I'm a blogger.