Sunday Redux

It might be wishful evaluation on my part but there does seem to be an upgrade in the quality ofTV programming this season, sufficient to undermine the soubriquet "Boob Tube" and actually justify the passive involvement that television demands. I'm not speaking solely of improvements in actual picture quality, though that does help. Nor am I saluting the supposed resurgence of the sitcom. From what I've seen of the highly touted comedy pilots, none of them have the freshness of their progenitors ("Everybody Hates Chris" of "The Wonder Years," "How I Met Your Mother" of "Friends," "My Name Is Earl" of "Arrested Development.")

But there are new pleasures to be had, along with well-worn satisfactions, and they are most evident on Sunday evenings. Sunday nights have historically been targeted as prime viewing hours, and this year the programmers have been generous. I'm not embarrassed to park my butt in my armchair for five consecutive hours to watch live programming as my DVR catches up with the rest (Can't miss "The Simpsons," best TV comedy ever). Then there are the old warhorses "60 Minutes" and "The West Wing"--the latter which is its final season of sophisticated dialogue and wish-fulfillment of a responsible presidency. "Desperate Housewives" remains a guilty, if overrated pleasure, very recordable at least.

And then there are the HBO entries that will keep us occupied until "The Sopranos" returns in early 2006. One is "Curb Your Enthusiasm," also back after a considerable hiatus. The final episode of the previous season was actually a touching salute to Mel Brooks, "The Producers," and sadly, Anne Bancroft, whose final TV appearance it turned out to be. Putting sentiment aside, though, this season began with more gut-wrenching embarrassments for our antihero, who's flattered that a local eatery has named a sandwich after him (in the manner of our Fairfax deli Canter's), but hates the sandwich itself, a concoction of white fish and sable. Frankly, I would absolutely love that sandwich, but that makes his peevishness even more inappropriate, and of course, funnier.

The new show that follows, "Extras," is a perfect companion piece to "Enthusiasm," also set in a self-aware showbiz context. Ricky Gervais, formerly of the original "The Office," is a softer version of Larry David, in that he gets himself into squirmy situations by saying just the wrong thing at the right time. His circumstances and needs are more clearly defined, though--he is a would-be actor flailing along as an extra, trying desperately to get an actual line to speak so that he can qualify for the actor's guild. This has been an area rife for comic exploration, and oddly, recalls one of the great motivations in sitcom history, that of Lucy trying weekly to make her way into show business. Meanwhile, major stars appear gamely playing satiric versions of themselves in whatever project Gervais is attached to. Kate Winslet was nastily funny as herself playing a nun in a Holocaust movie because that was the kind of vehicle that would finally win her an Oscar. It's so true!

The lead-in to these comedies in HBO's showpiece drama of the year, "Rome." I can't discuss it without a retrospective salute to what I consider the greatest TV series ever produced, "I Claudius." "Rome" does not try to shy from comparison. In fact, its titles sequence seems to intentionally recall that of "Claudius," down to the painted mosaic and the sense of violence in serpentine imagery. The earlier show was a pretty faithful rendition of the novels, while "Rome" is more a fictional soap opera within an historical context, rather like a Doctorow novel. But tonally both shows are effective, raunchy and witty. Nothing can quite match the acting proficiency and razor-sharp dialogue of "Claudius" but it's as much fun to watch the machinations of Polly Walker's Atia as it was Sian Phillip's great Livia. Nor does a character in "Rome" yet invoke the sympathy of Derek Jacoby's reluctant, stammering emperor. But the current series does present a healthy dose of history along with its domestic portrayals. It's something of a hoot to watch Augustus as a kid learning the ropes while his mother tries to pawn him off as a lover for Uncle Julius Caesar. And our familiarity with the fates of Caesar, Pompey, Mark Anthony and Brutus provides us with a detached irony and anticipation of how the Empire-shaking events will be depicted. Can't wait for Cleopatra.

Though the dark, sophisticated atmosphere of "Rome" is a fitting homage to "Claudius," the producers decided to emphasize the gritty authenticity of the setting, which required a budget, of over 50 million dollars. How this will affect Time Warner's balance sheet is uncertain. But I should point out that the budget of the original "I, Claudius" was about 10% of that. For all the spectacle in the world, there is nothing more important than a great script.