Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist 1x01 Review: “Pilot” (Music is All Around) [Contributor: Jenn]

“Pilot”

Original Airdate: January 7, 2020

I’m a sucker for musicals. I loved Glee(’s first season) and Smash(’s first episode) and Crazy Ex-Girlfriend(’s entire four seasons). The easiest way for a network on television to hook me is by marketing something as a musical comedy. And when that musical comedy stars Jane Levy, Skylar Astin, Lauren Graham, and Mary Steenburgen, that doesn’t hurt either.

You’ve guessed it: Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist made it onto my radar as soon as the show’s concept was announced. And since I’ll be reviewing it all season, let’s kick things off with a plot recap: Zoey Clarke (Levy) is a computer coder at SPQRPoint who’s going out for a promotion along with all of her other coworkers because her strong-willed boss (Graham) is forcing them to. Zoey’s family life is sad and challenging. Her father (played by Peter Gallagher) has a rare neurological disease and is slowly losing motor functions. Because Zoey’s been getting headaches and slightly blurred vision, she’s worried she might have what her dad does. Under her mother’s (Steenburgen) advice, Zoey gets an MRI done. While in the MRI machine, the technician plays music to keep Zoey calm. And everything is fine until an earthquake hits.

Now, Zoey’s begun to hear everyone’s thoughts as pop songs. And the only person she’s told is her neighbor, Mo (Alex Newell).

Now onto the fun stuff: my thoughts about the episode!

A DEEP TAKE ON A SILLY CONCEPT

The idea that an entire show would be based around people singing their thoughts has a certain quirky, zany quality about it. So imagine my surprise when the show, right off the bat, used the concept to communicate the deep ideas of grief and depression. “Mad World” is the most powerful son in the episode to me. Zoey hears an extremely upbeat, outgoing coworker’s inner thoughts as the song and begins to cry at how raw it is.

Zoey and her coworker, Simon, go out for cheesecake and he opens up to her: he carries around a photo of his dad, who recently committed suicide. Simon isn’t really doing well with that grief and loss. He hasn’t talked to anyone about it either, but Zoey encourages him to open up to someone about what’s going on inside of his head.

“I’ve become a real expert on bottling my shame and pain and hiding it from the world,” Simon says. He does end up opening up to Zoey... and then Simon also opens up to his fiance, Jessica (much to the surprise of Zoey and the audience).

Near the end of the episode, we also get something else super powerful and emotional: Zoey’s dad’s thoughts in song form. Zoey and her family wonder what Mitch is thinking. He’s lost his ability to speak, can barely eat, and needs constant help with medications and normal tasks. For Zoey, it’s an incredibly frustrating and sad thing to witness — her father’s slow decline, a wasting away of who he used to be.

But then, when Zoey really needs advice from her dad, she suddenly hears him begin to sing “True Colors” to her and she immediately begins weeping with joy. This could be what she’s been searching for: hope. Her father is still there, and he can communicate with her. And that’s something Zoey desperately needed that this new “gift” provides her with.

WHAT COMES NEXT?

The concept for Zoey’s Extarodinary Playlist is a fun one, but it’s also providing some inner conflict and character development. “I almost felt embarrassed listening to it,” Zoey tells Mo about hearing her coworker’s deep, dark inner thoughts.

And that’s going to provide such an interesting source of conflict moving forward. Because Zoey hears Simon’s thoughts, she reaches out to him for help. He, of course, has no idea and calls it a miracle that they found each other. But while Zoey’s “gift” might come with perks and benefits like helping a friend through a rough time or knowing her dad’s mind is still functioning, it’s also going to come with some drawbacks as we see in previews for the season. Zoey’s found out her best friend Max (Astin) is in love with her, and she’s going to need to figure out how to deal with that. In the pilot, she learns that the “supportive” guy in her office is really out to destroy her.

Is knowing someone’s private thoughts and then acting on that knowledge a good thing or a bad thing? Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist is toying with the idea of what would happen if we knew what people were thinking and where the boundaries of what we do with that knowledge stop and start. Zoey even confesses what she did (minus the music part) to her mom, acknowledging that she crossed a line to form an emotional connection with a coworker. So what does she do with the knowledge she shouldn’t know? Will that be a question that comes up throughout the season?

Perhaps, but ultimately while the show explores some deeper concepts, I think it’s primary aim is to communicate something that Mo says in the pilot: “Good music makes you feel things you can’t express in words.”

And it’s true. Good music and great lyrics can put thoughts to words when you didn’t even know there were words for how you were feeling. The idea that everyone has a musical happening in their minds (via streams of thoughts) is such a fun one, and I’m excited to see how the show continues to explore this idea in the rest of the season.

Additional things:

• Each week I’m going to rank the songs in the episode. Here are the pilot rankings from favorite performance to least favorite: “Mad World/True Colors,” (it’s a tie), “All I Do is Win,” “All By Myself/What A Man/Help.”
• “Almost as if they were all singing what they were thinking. Out loud. Collectively. As a people.”
• I, too, use Slack at work. I’m a millennial. I get it.
• I absolutely love that we get Jane Levy in a leading role again! RIP, Suburgatory.
• “Oh, good. A dance break.”

I’ll be back when Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist officially debuts on February 16 on NBC! Until then, folks!

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How The Charmed Reboot Misses The Mark, Culturally and Otherwise [Contributor: Araceli Aviles]

Let’s face it: we live in an age of reboots, and almost all of them fail to capture the essence of the original content. It’s the risk you take trying to revitalize something that made such a significant impact in its heyday. The television fandom has expanded so exponentially through blogging and Twitter, but these vehicles are driven by one enduring factor: human memory. Human memory clings to the emotional attachment you felt the first time you watched your favorite series, not fancy CGI, or even the original characters. To truly hook people with a reboot, you must recapture the original essence. This is particularly difficult to do, as it has the original premise (or at least a variation of it), not the original cast.

I will preface my critique of The CW’s remake of Charmed by saying that I was a huge fan of the original series. To this day, I could probably recite the original pilot word-for-word, and point out more than a few guest stars who got their big breaks playing baddies/heartthrobs/demons. That’s how deep my fandom goes, so I’ll admit bias toward the original. The truth is most fans dedicated to their favorite series are biased — especially as they appreciate the rich balance between the sci-fi/magical rules of a show, and the intensity of human emotion it uses to make those impossibilities seem so real. When you get that balance right, you’re golden. The original Charmed pilot did just that, and only built from there. Sorry to say, this reboot doesn’t have that same spark.

We’re going into SPOILER ALERT territory from here on, so turn back if you don’t want details on the latest pilot.

I could be nitpicky, and harp on the fact that in the pilot: 1) The whitelighter doesn’t orb, 2) The whitelighter is a pompous Brit who is teased to be evil, and 3) Melinda Warren has no place in this lineage. To this last point, I will actually not give any leeway, for a few reasons. It is understandable that the team behind the latest incarnation of a beloved would want to honor the original in as many ways as they can.

However, sticking Melinda Warren in the middle of the story as if she is a bookmark in the Book of Shadows is not the way to do it. No matter how the writers explain it, there are just too many complications involved with bringing up the matriarch of the Halliwell line. It would imply that the new sisters are related to the Halliwells. Add to the fact that it has only been a decade since the original Charmed series went off the air (not necessarily giving the lineage enough time to progress to the power of another full-fledged "Charmed Ones"), and there seems to be more harm than good done with this decision. Having not seen the full series, I could concede that perhaps the writers have a plan in place to answer this very question. However, it seems difficult to do so, given the corner they’ve written themselves into. All the kudos in the world will be given if this can be finessed.

Which brings me to the one point that pains me most about this new Charmed series: the representation itself. Following an early screening of the pilot at San Diego Comic-Con 2018, it was important for me to take the time to hear the writers out on their vision for the series. They've made their points on what they want it to be, specifically how to honor the original series while focusing on women of color. Specifically, bringing in the practice of brujeria — the Spanish form of witchcraft — is daring, and a welcome introduction to the entertainment medium.

But there is a time when good ideas are better in conception than in practice. The idea for the current sisters to explore their ancestors’ roots in brujeria only further confuses the need for Melinda Warren’s presence in the story. The geography alone seems difficult to finesse, given that you’re talking about melding the traditions of witchcraft from two separate continents. More than that, this sends a deeper, more conflicting message to viewers — particularly viewers of color — about the way our stories should be profiled in the entertainment industry.

Why does a new show have to piggyback on a legacy of a former show that was already great and stood on its own merit and mythologies? Why can't there be a show that talks about witches for people of color without borrowing off specific tropes in the Charmed legacy? It makes no sense chronologically, since the original Charmed Ones had a clear, specific history that made a point of tracing their lineage back to the American witch trials. Likewise, Latinos have their own dense, deep history in brujeria that not only goes back centuries, but blends with a deeper discussion about mestizo culture. It would be amazing to be able to use an entertaining show to showcase the journey of brujeria from the Spanish bruixes, to the combination and eventual evolution of European and Native traditions which produced many cultures and traditions in Latin America. Make no mistake, the material is there. (Netflix’s upcoming take on the subject matter, entitled Siempre Bruja, proves just that). But with the material comes the Charmed title card.

In my opinion, it is a disservice to Latinos to borrow on the fame and legacy of the original Charmed — to not trust that a Latino sisterhood is strong enough to stand on its own, separate and away from the early American mythologies. Which is also a great shame for the original series, and the things it had to say about feminism pre-#TimesUp.

So many things about this Charmed reboot could have been great; but as I said, sometimes the blending of ideas is just better in concept than practice. In the practice of properly representing women of color, all we can do is our best to tell our truths in the medium which we are given. But sometimes, the push for a more expanded narrative can have a more significant impact in the long run.

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A Million Little Things is No This Is Us — But That's Not a Bad Thing [Contributor: Jenn]

(Image credit: ABC)

Trigger warning: Brief discussions of depression and suicide to follow.

If you're anything like me, you probably watched the first trailer for A Million Little Things and thought: "Did ABC assume I needed another This Is Us in my life to emotionally compromise me each week?" The good news that I have for you with this advanced review of the new drama series is that while there are shades of a This Is Us-esque penchant for making you reach for the tissues, that's about where the similarities end.

Because where This Is Us is all about what connects us, A Million Little Things is all about the secrets we carry — and how they separate us from people. Now, don't get me wrong: that might seem like a cynical reading of the new ABC show, but it's not. I quite enjoyed the pilot, in spite of some of its issues. While both dramas tackle similar topics, tonally, the execution of A Million Little Things is distinct enough from This Is Us that you can watch both shows without a feeling of whiplash or deja vu. Within A Million Little Things' pilot alone, you'll be able to feel the weight of soapy drama — a titular feel for most ABC dramas.

I'm getting ahead of myself, though: let's backtrack momentarily to discuss the plot of the pilot. A Million Little Things focuses on four people who became friends because they were trapped in an elevator together years prior. The group consists of Gary (James Roday), who has battled cancer, Rome (Romany Malco), an aspiring filmmaker, Eddie (David Giuntoli), a recovering addict and guitar teacher, and Jon (Ron Livingston) who, as you might know from the trailer, takes his own life at the start of the series.

Most of the pilot hinges on Jon's suicide and how it impacts his friends and family, including wife and two children. In the pilot, at least, Jon's decision to take his own life seems to be linked to depression, and there is a scene featuring a frank discussion between the core characters about how they could have missed depression and its signs in Jon's life. Some characters acknowledge that depression doesn't often manifest itself in the ways that we expect and we can't blame ourselves for not seeing or noticing signs.

I'd forewarn anyone who is sensitive to suicide and/or discussions of it and depression — or any similar subject matter — to avoid watching the pilot. Though A Million Little Things doesn't necessarily try to sensationalize suicide (this certainly is not 13 Reasons Why), the show does fall back on a character's cliche of, "everything happens for a reason" in order to make sense of silent struggles and Jon's death. While it was a trait and line given to the character, I might be a bit too cynical in hearing it associated with suicide and mental health to see it as significant. To me, that statement is just as empty as "thoughts and prayers" are without action tied to them.

Speaking of cynical: Gary is the group cynic, but Jon's death causes him to make a pretty bold statement about the friendship between him, Rome, and Eddie — they're only friends because they (along with Jon) got trapped in an elevator one day, and that since that day, they never talk about anything real with one another; they haven't in years. A Million Little Things is centered on friendship and connection in relationships: it opens with a quote that says, "Friendship isn't one big thing... it's a million little things." While that sentiment is accurate and pretty, Gary is also right when he drives home his cynicism in the pilot. Each member of the group has kept their fair share of secrets; their friendship, while real, has become more shallow over time — and Jon's death is Gary's reminder of that.

(Image credit: ABC)

Jon's life and death affect everyone differently. As the series progresses, I am sure we'll begin to learn the extent to which his life impacted others, but in the pilot we get glimpses into how each friend and family member handles his passing. And this is where ABC's knack for soapy drama and air of mystery kick in. Though I won't spoil exactly what each person's dark secrets are (some you know through the trailer, others you might be surprised by), A Million Little Things is as much about what happens when we don't share our burdens as what happens when we do. While Gary notes that the group has slipped into surface-level friendship pretty easily (and surmises that this is why none of them knew or saw what Jon was going through), it'd be easy to end the narrative there.

But when people unburden themselves to those they're closest to, healing and transformation happens. There's an especially powerful scene toward the end of the pilot that's evidence of this. The characters we meet at the beginning of the pilot are a lot more complex than just their baggage or issues; you might form different opinions about them by the end of the episode, honestly. And though I'm not entirely sure exactly how far down this road of soapy drama the show is headed (but because of the network and the set-up in the pilot, I suspect my answer is "pretty dang far"), the drama is also not without purpose. Secrets and lies (even ones of omission) will illuminate the character of these individuals.

By far, the performances of James Roday (those who watched him in Psych will notice a similar biting sarcasm and wit of Shawn Spencer; I'm beginning to assume this is just Roday's natural persona because of the ease with which he slips into it) and Romany Malco are stand-outs, and I look forward to seeing them grow in these roles.

A Million Little Things is not a perfect series, and it'd be easy to write it off as a series trying to be This Is Us. But because there are so many little intricacies and complexities to the new ABC series, give it a chance — as long as you feel you are able to do so, safely.

Pilot Grade: B+

A Million Little Things premieres September 26 at 10 p.m. on ABC.

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Cute, Heartwarming Ensemble Comedies Still Exist! Exhibit A is Single Parents [Contributor: Jenn]

(Image credit: ABC)

I'm a sucker for an ensemble sitcom.

Case in point: my favorite comedies of all-time include Parks and Recreation, Friends, Scrubs, and New Girl. The Office is in my list of favorites too, and How I Met Your Mother (before its disastrous finale). The trickiest thing about an ensemble comedy is that the characters — while needing to function as a group — need to have enough autonomy to be able to carry scenes alone and with any other character in the ensemble. The ensemble is both, in a sense, its own character and also a collection of separate ones.

A true ensemble comedy mirrors real-life, reflecting the fact that we have inclinations to gravitate toward certain people in our friend groups more than others, while also recognizing that part of the reason a friend group exists is because the group itself — no matter how close an individual is to any one person in the group — manages to click, somehow.

Single Parents is already off to a great start with its pursuit of becoming a true ensemble. (ABC has a habit of cancelling my favorite comedies, so hopefully this little sitcom manages to stay around long enough to fully explore how funny everyone on the show can be — and that includes the kids!) In addition to its talented cast, at Single Parents' helm as its creators are Liz Meriwether and J.J. Philbin of New Girl fame. As someone who absolutely loved New Girl and found its comedy to be hilarious and delightful, a pilot written by those two women — and a series created by them — is right up my alley.

The plot of the series? Will Cooper (Taran Killam) and his daughter Sophie (Marlow Barkley) are new to school. Will is a single parent and he's... well, overzealous in throwing his entire life into caring for his child. Even though he's new, Will suddenly takes up the mantle of room parent and he's pretty intense about it. That doesn't sit well with the single parent crew in our series, and they decide that they need to do everything they can to avoid serving Will's agenda.

Angie (Leighton Meester) serves as sort of a "room parent destroyer," and a quasi-ringleader for our ragtag group of single parents. Then there's Douglas (Brad Garrett), a politically conservative dermatologist who really doesn't do emotion or affection. Poppy, an outspoken feminist, (Kimrie Lewis) serves as the heart of the group who watches out for everyone and isn't afraid to drop in tough love on the adults when necessary. And as the newest member of the single parents club, Miggy (Jake Choi) is just trying to figure out to be a 20-year old and also raise a baby.

Within the first episode alone, we get some solid Will/Angie and Douglas/Poppy stories, and that leads me to believe that the show recognizes the ability to play around with groups and pairings within the ensemble to see what clicks and where there is story or depth. Single Parents doesn't just succeed because of the talent of its adults, but also of its children. On shows with kids, it's often easy for writers to make them props or background actors; kids are unpredictable, after all. But Single Parents utilizes its concept in order to expand upon the idea of an ensemble — one that includes kids. The premise of the show is just as it sounds: all of the children are used to having one parent raise them. But because all of the parents are friends, it stands to reason that the kids see their single parent's friends pretty often. In the pilot, that leads to small stories between Angie's son and Will, and Poppy's son and Douglas.

Single Parents is sweet and heartwarming (a scene toward the end of the pilot will make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside), but it's also funny. And the show utilizes my favorite kind of comedy — character-centric comedy. What New Girl, Friends, Parks and Recreation and many other ensemble comedies did well was recognize that situations are funny because PEOPLE are funny; and people with quirks who have to interact with other people with quirks? Even better. Taran Killam has always been funny to me — I've watched his comedy evolve from the days of The Amanda Show to Saturday Night Live and everything in between — and his interactions with Leighton Meester (whose ability to so succinctly and effortlessly deliver sarcasm is sorely underappreciated) prove that they have comedic chemistry.

The show is about trying to retain your identity as an adult while struggling to raise children — about the sacrifices you make for them, and the mistakes, bad advice, and silly things that happen along the way. But Single Parents also seems to be about the same sort of central concept New Girl was: friends are family too, and it's crucial that we rely on others for help and to make us better.

It takes a village to raise a child, and I definitely want more of the Single Parents village.

Out-of-context dialogue teases:

• "Are you whisper-singing Moana at me?"
• *sighs* "Like coconuts and safety."
• "Is he wearing a necklace made of garbage?"
• "He knows he's white, right?" "Everybody knows."
• "My dad is kind of a garbage human."

Pilot Grade: A

Single Parents premieres September 26 at 9:30 p.m. on ABC.

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How Mayans M.C. Forges Its Own Path in the Sons of Anarchy World [Contributor: Megan Mann]

(Image credit: FX)

Four years ago, one of FX’s most popular endeavors and dramatic television’s greatest triumphs in the last decade came to a devastating close. Kurt Sutter’s Sons of Anarchy took the motorcycle club image and — still maintaining the intensity and carnage that you associate with the outlaws — stripped it down to its bare essentials: it was a family and a community — a group of people you could count on no matter what happened.

Sons of Anarchy was, and still remains, my favorite TV show of all time. Despite its often gruesome nature, what the show boiled down to was a theme of love and the sense of belonging. The show holds a special place in my heart and a certain character’s unexpected death in the fifth season still fills me with anger and sadness: a testament to the incredible writing.

It was no surprise then that when it was announced that fans of the series would be treated to a spin-off, I lost my marbles.

Enter Mayans M.C.

Mayans M.C. carries the same vibe its predecessor did; it visually feels similar and also involves a motorcycle club. Thankfully, the series and plot is not a total shock to fans; our Men of Mayhem often dealt with the Mayans in Oakland. Alvarez — a character who will continue to pop up throughout the season — was at the head of the table. The thread of continuity between Sons of Anarchy and Mayans M.C. allows viewers to fall back into this universe without having to fully displace them with newness.

Mayans M.C. also similar tonally to Sons of Anarchy. It’s about a rebel motorcycle gang who has a front for their criminal activities so that they can carry them out without drawing any attention. However, instead of focusing on someone who has been involved in the MC for his entire life, like Jax Teller, the show switches its focus to a prospect who is fresh out of jail and looking to find his place within the Mayans.

Ezekiel “EZ” Reyes went to jail eight years ago for a crime that, as of the pilot, we’re not yet sure of. But we are lead to believe that it is in conjunction, somehow, to the passing of his mother. After cutting ties with everyone — including his girlfriend — while behind bars, he gets out and becomes a prospect for his brother, Angel, who is already a member of the club. EZ’s tasked with his first drug run for the cartel and things go awry. What follows, I can assure you, is not for the faint of heart and follows in the Sons of Anarchy tradition.

Over the course of the first episode of Mayans M.C., we realize that all is not what it seems with EZ, and this is where it becomes a much different show from its predecessor.

But in order for the series to stand on its own and move out from under the shadow of such a colossal hit, the twists we discover within the first hour and ten minute episode were necessary. It’s clear that the information viewers are given in the pilot of Mayans M.C. is going to create the drama down the line. But instead of predictability, viewers will be swept up in the ride.

JD Pardo shines as EZ and proves he’s just as a formidable force as Jax Teller was before him. His brother Angel is played by Clayton Cardenas, and his father by Edward James Olmos. EZ's ex-girlfriend — who we later discover is a major player in this story — is played by Sarah Bolger. While some may feel that this love story is similar to Jax and Tara, I would advise you to keep watching — it’s anything but that. Meanwhile, Danny Pino plays cartel leader Miguel Galindo and is incredibly intimidating at it.

As a super fan of Sons of Anarchy, I will say that I absolutely enjoyed the pilot of Mayans M.C. I thought it stayed true to the former's tone and style, while also managing to set itself apart within its predecessor's universe. The cast of the series is fantastic and the writing is just as amazing as it was on Sons of Anarchy. I’m thrilled to see where the writers take this show and can’t wait to watch how this all unravels.

And yes, for those of you wondering, there were sweet little nods to the original series that had me maybe jumping out of my seat. Trust me; you’ll see.

Mayans M.C. premieres tonight at 9 p.m. on FX.

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The Rookie Tackles the Question: Who Do You Want to Be? [Contributor: Jenn]

(Image credit: ABC)

"A walking midlife crisis" is how John Nolan (Nathan Fillion) is described by his sergeant in the pilot of The Rookie. And though there is definitely truth to that statement — truth that Nolan admits to by the episode's final moments — that is not all that John Nolan is, nor is it truly why he chose to become a police officer at the grand 'ol age of 40.

But let's back up a minute: The plot of The Rookie is pretty simple, at first glance. It's about a man named John Nolan who works in construction and is also recently divorced. While he's at a bank, putting items in his safe deposit box, two men burst through the front doors and attempt to rob the bank. What John does begins his career path as a police officer. Nine months later, he's traded in his old life for a new one as a rookie at the L.A.P.D. Of course, he's the oldest rookie in the ranks and is constantly made fun of for his age and perceived athletic ability or lack thereof. There are actually two other rookies that the pilot focuses on, too: the driven and dynamic Lucy Chen (Melissa O'Neil) and a "legacy" wonder kid named Jackson West (Titus Makin Jr.). Each rookie is paired up with a more experienced training officer, and the pilot follows all three pairings as they embark on their first two days on the force.

If you're expecting a standard procedural drama, there are definitely elements that will make this new ABC series feel like home (alongside some elements that give it the distinctly ABC soapy touch). One of the most interesting elements of the series so far is a visual decision — since the officers on the show wear body cams, the pilot integrates scenes and shots that appear to be pulled straight from their cameras. It's not excessive, and was an interesting choice when used sparingly. I enjoyed the fact that it allowed us to personally connect with the characters wearing the cameras, thrusting us into more of a first-person viewing of the events.

There are a few plot twists that you might not expect from the pilot, and while Nathan Fillion is definitely the star of the series, it appears — at least from the way that the pilot went — that the show will be more ensemble-centric. We get brief glimpses into the lives of the rookies and their respective training officers. Jackson West might be a golden boy on paper and the kid who broke all of his dad's records while at the academy, but he encounters an issue while in the field that he didn't anticipate. And Lucy Chen seems like a take-no-nonsense, tough young woman but we learn that having two psychologists as parents might have taken an emotional toll on her.

The training officers each have their own personality quirks, too. Officer Tim Bradford (Eric Winter) is Lucy's training officer, and he's... well, a psychological minefield. He plays horrific mind games with Lucy on her first day than most people will ever experience — forcing her to doubt herself, question whether she can trust him, and shrink back in certain circumstances. At one point, he gives permission for a drug dealer to attack her in order to see if she can fight back and cuff him. Yeah, not your warm and fuzzy training officer.

For most of the pilot, in fact, you'll probably think that Tim is about the biggest jerk there is (you'll likely use stronger language), and you'd be right. In spite of his entire demeanor, questionable methods and personality, the show still reminds us that he is human. There's a scene where Lucy sees, firsthand, what kind of demons Tim has to face and why he commands such an icy, emotionless exterior. Granted, I still think he's a horrible human being for the way he treats Lucy (and just because he has things to deal with does not make his actions sympathetic), but at least Eric Winter gets to do some nice acting work.

Officer Angela Lopez (Alyssa Diaz) is paired with the golden boy, and we learn from the very beginning of the pilot that Officer Lopez and Officer Talia Bishop (Afton Williamson), who is assigned to John Nolan, are vying for the role of detective. Both are looking to get out of the fieldwork — Talia mostly so that she can use the step up to detective to continue her career climb at the L.A.P.D. Officer Bishop is tough, but she's also the only one of the training officers who acts like a true teacher for her rookie. She lets John take charge when she feels he's capable, and also instructs him when he makes a mistake. When John celebrates a victory, Officer Bishop commends him for his heroics but also points out the mistakes he made in the field that could cost a life in the future. She is skilled and passionate about what she does, and I'm interested to see how the mentor/mentee dynamic shifts and evolves between her and John Nolan.

What I like so far is that The Rookie will seemingly focus on those dynamics — the ones between the rookies and officers — more than anything else. While this is a show that involves the good guys solving problems and taking down bad guys (within the first episode alone, there are more than three separate calls that the officers respond to), it's also a show about what the job does to people. John Nolan is humanized and deeply affected by something that happens on his first day, while Lucy and Jackson realize that the academy is way different than being out on a call (and Jackson gets threatened by Officer Lopez at the end of the episode for how he handles something in the line of duty).

Ultimately, the pilot of The Rookie wraps up with John Nolan trying to answer the question of who he wants to be. John's sergeant, Wade Grey (Richard T. Jones), doesn't like him very much. And Wade makes a valid point earlier in the pilot to Officer Bishop that "rookies" who are as old as John Nolan is don't do well because they're so sure about what is right and wrong that there is no hesitation; there is only action. And that kind of action often leads to people being killed. At the end of the episode, Wade and John have a sort of heart-to-heart in which John admits that before entering the academy, he was in a place in his life where he's looking to reinvent himself. He didn't realize all that it meant to become a cop.

But what John Nolan says next about himself is integral to the series: he might have been looking for reinvention, but he is good enough as he is. He was good enough at the academy, and he doesn't need to change from who he has been the past 40 years in order to do his job.

The Rookie seems like it will be a series about identity — not necessarily about "finding yourself," per se, but understanding what makes you the strong, resilient human that you are and fighting to make others (and sometimes yourself) believe it.

You're never too old for that lesson.

Pilot Grade: B

The Rookie premieres October 16 on ABC!

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Alex, Inc. is the Optimistic Comedy I Really Hope Succeeds [Contributor: Jenn]

(Image credit: ABC)

A few years ago now — more than I’d like to believe because that means time is moving faster — ABC ran comedies like Trophy Wife, Selfie, and Happy Endings. While the last one was filled with slapstick shenanigans and meta humor, the first two were focused on families and learning to become better people for those around us, respectively. ABC’s current comedy block has family-centric shows that have been highly-praised (notably blackish and Fresh Off the Boat), and now the network is adding one more family-themed series to the mix: Alex, Inc.

I’m going to be totally honest: I started watching this show because I love Zach Braff. An avid Scrubs fan, I used to watch reruns of the series in my college dorm most weeknights before bed. And as a 29-year old, I spend my time on Thursday mornings re-watching the series as I work remotely. Braff’s got a specific brand of comedy in nearly everything that he does — zany, punctuated delivery and that fun oscillation in his voice that sends you straight back to Sacred Heart.

ABC released the first three episodes of Alex, Inc. for review and I can honestly say that this is the comedy I hope succeeds in 2018. It’s sweet and endearing, realistic in its portrayal of marriage and conflict, and just fun. Optimism needs to continue to live on this year; too much of 2017 was filled with bleakness. And this new comedy deserves the chance to shine. This is not the kind of series that will necessarily provide the witty social commentary that some comedies do, but I also don’t need it to be that show. What I needed Alex, Inc. to be was a series that reminded me there is still good and joy and fun in the world — without always having to provide a bottom line.

While I’m not going to break down my review into three separate articles, I’ll do my best to convince you of why you should watch the series by dissecting some of Alex, Inc.’s best elements.

FAMILY DYNAMICS

I’m a sucker for a show centered on a solid family structure. And Alex, Inc. brings that to the forefront of the pilot. We begin their story because Alex (Zach Braff) decides to quit his job and start his own podcast company. His wife, Rooni (played by The Good Place’s Tiya Sircar) is supportive of her husband, but their relationship isn’t without stress and pressure from his sudden decision. The thing we learn to be most true about Alex though, besides that he is a dreamer, is that he loves his family. He loves his children. He inspires them, and they — in turn — motivate him. He tells them fantastical stories, and they give him inspirational speeches.

Too often, I feel, television only portrays one side of family life. The children are supposed to learn lessons from their parents and apologize when they do wrong. That’s all well and good, and is definitely an aspect of being a part of a family. However, the fact that Alex, Inc. allows its youngest cast members the chance to play smart, empathetic, encouraging children who end up motivating our protagonist more than nearly anyone else is impressive. The kids aren’t just plot devices in this show — they ARE the show. By the end of the pilot, Ben (played by Elisha Henig) impresses his father with his bravery and boldness. In the show’s second episode, Soraya (played by Audyssie James) has a storyline with her dad that focuses on the promise and importance of being present. And in the third episode, the kids get the chance to explore what it means to embrace their cultural and ethnic heritage and learn about Holi from their grandmother.

Equally important is Alex Inc.’s portrayal of Alex and Rooni’s marriage. It’s easy to romanticize a character like Alex as the protagonist of the series — he’s passionate and idealistic and a dreamer. Those are the reasons Rooni fell in love with him. But as she says throughout the first few episodes, she also is a realist. The couple fights because they get on each other’s nerves and because they make decisions without consulting the other. Rooni tells Alex that she’s upset with him because he’s supposed to be her best friend and he lied to her.

That’s something wonderful about the series already: Television shows are great at portraying the loving relationship between a husband and wife. We all swoon when we get to witness loving scenes and cutesy lines of dialogue. But what about the friendship between a husband and wife? Alex, Inc. makes it a point to not paint either character as completely wrong or completely right — just like real life. Alex messes up and lies, but so does Rooni. Alex has good intentions for the way he handles things and Rooni has valid reasons for making the decisions she does. The first three episodes emphasize the importance of friendship and communication in their marriage, and it’s pretty dang endearing.

(Photo credit: ABC)

THE ETERNAL OPTIMISM

We want to see Alex succeed.

When Alex begins his podcast company, he brings aboard a team consisting of his cousin Eddie (played by Michael Imperioli) and Deidre (Hillary Anne Matthews), his former producer to get his company off the ground. Because Alex is so earnest and likable, we want him to do well. It’s interesting because we could easily believe Alex to be an incredibly selfish human being — I mean, he does decide to quit his job without consulting his wife and puts his family into a little bit of a tailspin because of it. Rooni mentions this to him on a few occasions too, and his kids try to adjust to life without a very present dad.

But because the character is played by Zach Braff, a charming and likable actor who’s able to bring whimsy and magic and an ethereal optimism to his roles, we like Alex. I genuinely like him because he’s self-aware enough to recognize that he’s flawed. Though some of his actions are problematic, he feels all-the-more realistic in admitting those flaws and seeking to remedy the damage as best he can. Alex is not an inherently bad character; he is a good guy who is earnest and makes mistakes. But his heart is always in the right place and the one thing we know to be true about him above all else is that while he wants to follow his dreams, he will do anything for his family. Their love is all that matters.

(Also if you were really into Scrubs and miss Zach Braff doing voiceovers on television shows, this is the series to fill that void for you. Just saying.)

Alex, Inc. is a show about following your heart and dreams — about recognizing that there is magic and imagination and an entire world beyond what we believe is possible. And that sometimes your dreams are worth chasing, even if you don’t know where you’ll end up.

FUNNY IN THE ORDINARY

I like my comedies to have a dose of realism to them. Though I’m a fan of the slapstick and the absurd, what I love is when shows can find the funny in the ordinary. And Alex, Inc. is one of those shows. It feels familiar because it is familiar — we all fight with our families, have a person whose habits irritate us, and struggle to come up with ideas when we desperately need them. There’s an entire plotline in the third episode where Alex struggles to name his company, and I relate so much to that because as a writer, I struggle to name things on a daily basis. In the same episode, Ben tries to get noticed by the kids in his class (and, of course, a girl) for his Indian heritage... which backfires spectacularly, and leads to a great conversation with Ben and his grandmother.

The humor and heart of the show are so intricately intertwined because they’re so familiar to us. Alex, Inc. is — at its core — a show about what it means to be human and to want the most out of your life.

And because of that, the humor feels just as real as every other part of it.

I hope that Alex, Inc. gets the chance to test its legs and succeed on ABC. Because of the way the show is constructed, I believe it has a shot of falling right into the network’s sweet spot of heartwarming family comedies. If you watch Alex, Inc., I sincerely hope that you find it to be as endearing, sweet, and fun as I did.

Alex, Inc. debuts on ABC on March 28 at 8:30 p.m.

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Time After Time 1x01 Review: "Pilot" (That Show with All the Attractive British People) [Contributor: Maddie]

“Pilot”

Original Airdate: March 5, 2017

Occasionally, a trend spreads across the television landscape and all of a sudden it seems like that type of show is everywhere. A little less than a decade ago every network tried their hand at sexy vampires, then came the zombies, and now we have time travel. We have an upcoming time travel comedy on FOX, a well-executed time travel adventure epic on NBC, and now Time After Time on ABC. This one is a time travel thriller with a side dish of philosophical debated, shipper-y goodness, and attractive British people. I first got to see this pilot at San Diego Comic Con last summer and fell in love with it. Seeing the pilot again only confirmed my feelings on the show. I’ve long been a fan of the works of Kevin Williamson (The Vampire Diaries), and once again he has not steered me wrong.

Time After Time begins establishing our two main characters: H.G. Wells, eventual prolific science fiction writer, and John Stevenson, who is (gasp!) Jack the Ripper. Shortly after brutally murdering someone, John waltzes into Wells’ flat for a gentlemen’s gathering. Here we get a first glimpse of Wells’ idealism as well as a line so swoonworthy I could not help but respond by cursing Kevin Williamson’s writing and Freddie’s perfect delivery. Less than five minutes into the episode, they had me. Briefly thereafter, Wells announces that in order to research time travel for his upcoming novel, he has built a time machine.

Some brief science mumbo jumbo irrelevantly explains how it is possible, but the important rule of the machine is that it will immediately go back to its original time unless you possess the key to the machine. While the other gentlemen laugh at Wells, John supports him, and we learn at this point that Wells has not done a test run yet. In discussion of the future, Wells reasserts his belief that humanity will reach Utopia within a few generations. John scoffs and says that it is against human nature, and that violence is not going away anytime soon. It is a good debate and sets a interesting theme to be carried through the series. Furthermore, it establishes that even though John is a sociopathic serial killer, he and Wells are genuinely good friends and able to discuss these deep issues.

When Scotland Yard comes to Wells’ flat, John uses the time machine to make a getaway to March 2017. Upon realizing that his best friend is the Ripper and has escaped to the future, Wells immediately follows in pursuit. The time machine lands in a museum in New York City where it resides in an exhibit, and it is here that we get our first introduction to Jane Walker. As the museum’s assistant curator, she is skeptical of Wells and think he is just an actor trying to perform a publicity stunt at her exhibit. It is not until the security guards escort Wells out of the museum that we see Jane was charmed by him.

While Wells struggles in this strange new land, it appears John is able to fit in almost immediately. He pawns his pocket watch to get $15,000 in cash, charms a front desk clerk to get a room at an upscale hotel, and changes his look to blend in. Wells is able to track John down to the hotel and is horrified upon seeing the condition of the world plastered across various news screens. Wells imagined society would reach Utopia by this point, but instead finds school shootings, ISIS, and Donald Trump soundbytes dominating the news. The moment he cannot help but shed tears at the troubling sight before him is poignant. Shortly thereafter, we see the first real clash between John and Wells — Wells gets the first glimpse of the darkness within his best friend who is now holding him at knife point to get the key to the time machine. Wells escapes, but is hit by a cab in the process.

Since Jane’s business card is the only thing in Wells’ pocket, she is called by the hospital. Jane takes Wells in and it is the first gesture of kindness he has received this century. At her apartment, we learned that Jane’s current position at the museum isn’t her dream but it pays the bills and she feels her life is pretty average. To translate into a Disney metaphor: basically, she wants much more than this provincial life. Jane is witty, self-aware, and empathetic, and Wells is fascinated by her. Shippers, start your engines — the plan A couple for the show has been officially established.

I appreciate that this show did not waste time of having multiple episodes where Jane was skeptical, and, instead, brought her into the fold of the main conflict right away. It is why, in my opinion, The Vampire Diaries did not really kick off until Elena was aware that vampires were real. Upon seeing that John has killed a girl at a club called Utopia, Wells informs Jane of his friend’s identity. When she still does not believe him, Wells and Jane take a short trip to three days into the future to prove his machine works and that he is who he says he is.

As Jane is processing the reality of time travel, Wells explains his wonder and disappointment in this century. Lastly, he asserts that there is nothing mediocre or average about Jane. It is a wonderful moment and shows how — in spectacular circumstances — such bonds can be made quickly. Just before leaving the future, they see via a newspaper headline that there has been a third victim: Jane. Intent on stopping John when they return to the present, Jane and Wells notice that they can still save the second victim, and — at her prompting — bring Jane’s gun with them.

On the roof of the club, John holds the second victim at knife point as he recognizes Jane. Wells pulls the gun on John, who then lets the girl go. John is goading Wells to shoot him, trying to prove that humans are violent by nature. When it is clear that Wells will not shoot him, they fight but Jane comes back with help before John can kill Wells.

Upon returning to the apartment, Wells tries to do the whole brooding hero thing and tell Jane that she can no longer be involved in this pursuit because it is so dangerous. Jane declares that she can take care of herself, and that they are doing this together. She goes to grab a first aid kit for Wells’ stab wound... at the same time that John breaks into her apartment. Wells hears Jane scream but by the time the he reaches the bathroom, she is gone. John did, however, write on the mirror with lipstick demanding the key.

After Wells races to the street to pursue John and Jane, he is stopped by Vanessa Anders, the owner of the museum exhibit where the time machine is. Vanessa reveals that she will help Wells find Jane. Oh, and that she is his great-granddaughter.

Overall, Time After Time has everything I love about a Kevin Williamson show. It is filled with suspenseful twists and turns, the plot moves at a thrilling pace, has layered conflicts, and the characters are immediately enthralling. Joshua Bowman is having the time of his life playing John and Freddie Stroma is once again as charming as can be as Wells. The surprise was relative newcomer Genesis Rodriguez as Jane Walker. She has a warmth in her performance that make it clear to see why two drastically different men from a different time would be fascinated with her. I am excited to see how the story unfolds.

Stray Thoughts:

• The comedy of Wells adjusting to this century was delightfully done by Stroma. In particular, I enjoyed him figuring out a Capri-Sun.
• I’m pretty sure that, “When Scotland Yard comes to Wells’ flat...” is the most British thing I have ever written.
• Anyone have suggestions for a H.G. Wells and Jane Walker ship name? 
• Thank goodness we got rid of that old-timey mustache, Wells.
• I can’t decide whether I’m offended or impressed by how on-the-nose this show’s social media marketing is. 

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Powerless Fumbles With Its New Pilot [Contributor: Jenn]

If you'll recall, a few of the staffers and I got the chance to attend Comic-Con this summer. That meant exclusive access to press rooms, parties, and seats in panels. It also meant that we had the opportunity to screen new pilots during Wednesday night of the convention — commonly known as "Preview Night" for the attendees. We saw Riverdale's first episode, as well as Time After Time, People of Earth, and Frequency's pilots. And we also saw a charming, hilarious pilot called Powerless.

We were obsessed with it. That might be because it came after Riverdale, a pilot that was unanimously loathed in our row of viewers. But it was also because the pilot oozed with charisma and promise. And, most importantly of all, it was hilarious. The crowd raucously laughed at the one-liners delivered and we giggled at all the subtle D.C. Easter eggs that we spotted in the background. It had the same kind of charm that NBC comedies are known for — subtle, smart humor and bright, bold characters. In retrospect, it was the kind of show that would have paired extremely well with The Good Place.

Unfortunately, between the time we screened the Powerless pilot in July and its debut last week, everything about the show (minus the names of the characters themselves, for the most part) has changed. Powerless underwent new creative direction — a new showrunner meant that for some reason, the show had to be re-tooled. The entire premise was shifted, even: once a show about RetCon (come on, how brilliant is that?) Insurance company workers living in a superhero world, the new Powerless is a series about the scientists and creators of inventions at Wayne Security. Emily (Vanessa Hudgens) goes from a quirky, fun co-worker to a nervous, uncertain new boss. Everyone hates Emily in this version of the pilot. In the Comic-Con version, Emily is beloved by everyone and has a close relationship with Teddy (Danny Pudi) which is reminiscent of a Jim/Pam office fling.

And really, that's what Powerless was — an Office-esque series about normal people living in a world where superheroes are just part of life. The villain was an internal one (played hilariously by Alan Tudyk who can do no wrong wherever he goes), and the original pilot was very much of an office vs. Del (Tudyk's character) situation. That was both amusing and had the potential for growth. Now, Tudyk still plays the villain — a man named Van Wayne, who is the cousin of Bruce Wayne. But he's less compelling, to me, than the original character of Del.

It's really difficult to give a proper review of Powerless, as you might assume, when I have the old one still playing in my head. But I'll try my best to let the rest of this review focus on the new pilot and not the old one. The problem that I have with Powerless right off the bat is that the pilot wasn't funny. The only time I chuckled was, unsurprisingly, during an Alan Tudyk line ("Jackie, if you are lying to me, I will put rocks in your pocket and throw you in the ocean."). In addition to that, the character of Emily seemed very stock — she's a do-gooder who believes she can be a leader based on her textbook knowledge of it. Tudyk's "villain" has some potential, but that's because there's the opportunity to make him a little bit more cartoonish.

It's the supporting cast — the stars of the show — who kind of get lost in the shuffle. The entire pilot is very stiff, rigid, without the natural ease and charisma that should be prevalent in a workplace comedy. Even during The Office, when Michael Scott was off on his own eccentric tirades, the supporting cast shone. And because this is the first episode, I'm giving Powerless SOME leeway. It's a new show that needs to determine exactly what type of comedy it is. The jokes, currently, seem way too generic to be funny (that's an issue that NBC has in general with its comedies, and it happened when Community underwent new creative direction and attempted to be a "broad comedy"), and the constant emphasis on Bruce Wayne in the pilot was draining.

What I would love to see from Powerless moving forward is the rebuilding of a workplace comedy. I don't want the show to go for the easy jokes, because I believe it's better than that. And I think that the cast is immensely talented and each has their own comedic nuances (Tudyk and Pudi have very different types of comedy, and Vanessa Hudgens is a delightful actress with great comedic potential too). I hope that the show realizes this and utilizes them to their full potential soon.

In altering its premise significantly since the debut at Comic-Con, Powerless has fallen into the category of "stale, forgettable comedy." It's a shame, since this show definitely has the opportunity to be good. I'm hopeful that this pilot — and the disconnect I had with it, having seen an entirely different version this summer — isn't indicative of the show moving forward. 

Powerless can be powerful. And I hope it chooses to be.

Pilot Grade: D

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Making History Is Exactly What You Would Expect It To Be [Contributor: Jenn]

You know, I'm one of those people who really loved Adam Pally's character on The Mindy Project — after, of course, he became less cartoonish and offensive just for the sake of being "that character." On Happy Endings, Adam Pally played Max, who was a hilarious, wonderful, eccentric character. But I'm not ashamed to admit that I groaned when I began to see the trailers for Making History air on FOX. For one thing, television executives: when you greenlight shows, make sure that your show isn't one of a million of its kind on current television. 

With the new crop of 2017 shows airing, Making History will now be just one of a handful of time travel shows. In fact, nearly every network has one! ABC has Time After Time, NBC has Timeless, FOX now has Making History, and The CW has Legends of Tomorrow. In order to be one of a handful of genre shows on television, you have to set yourself apart from the rest somehow. In its attempt to be the only time-travel comedy on television, though Making History sorely missed the mark.

If you predicted, by the pilot, that this show would be all about a slacker-turned-time-traveler who uses modern pop culture to woo a young woman during the American Revolution... you'd be exactly right. The issue I had with the Making History pilot was that it was groan-inducing in its humor. I didn't laugh at all during the pilot, which is problematic in and of itself. But generally, if a comedy doesn't make me laugh from the pilot, it's not a make-or-break. Sometimes it takes a few episodes for a comedy to find its stride. (Although I doubt this show will, since it seems to be sticking to the "toilet humor" wheelhouse, including literal pee jokes. I'm not kidding. I seriously wish I was.) 

When the comedy in a pilot fails, I turn to one of two things to convince me to continue giving the show a chance: 1) a twist ending, or 2) character development or unusual circumstances. In the Making History pilot, Adam Pally plays a guy named Dan who is literally the textbook definition of "slacker." He works at a college as a facilities manager and travels into the past each weekend to woo Paul Revere's daughter (played by Leighton Meester, who does her very best with the writing she's given). And then there's Chris, the history professor who Dan recruits to help him after he realizes that he messed some things up while time-traveling. Both characters are archetypes, and the jokes surrounding them are tried and stale. Maybe it's because I've already watched Timeless for so long, but Chris' role is essentially the same one that Lucy has in Timeless (and she does it way better). Nothing about the characters themselves gripped me, even when Dan reveals who really created the time machine. 

And that leaves us with the final category to woo me: a twist ending. While the end of the Making History pilot did throw a minor curveball, it was too little too late. The episode spent far too much time making tired pop culture jokes, and relaying tidbits about time travel that we've already discovered from other shows on television (if you time travel, you'll probably get violently ill — Legends of Tomorrow taught me that; slavery was a thing and so it'll be weird for people to see an African-American man accompanying a group of white people around — Timeless taught me that, etc.).

I had hoped that this show would be successful, for Adam Pally and Leighton Messter's sake (I miss her, and she's mega-talented), but it just wasn't. The show relied on dumbed-down humor in order to incite laughter and it spectacularly flopped. There weren't enough compelling motivations for the characters, and the twist at the end of the episode was decent, but not original.

The bottom line is that if you're looking for something really interesting about the Founding Fathers and the American Revolution, go listen to Hamilton. It'll be time much more well-spent than the time I wasted on this pilot.

Pilot Grade: D-

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Despite Its Efforts, The Great Indoors' Pilot Fails To Be Funny

Many people know this, but I absolutely adore Joel McHale. I was a fan of The Soup for years, and a huge (like, really huge) fan of Commuity for many more after that. And after years of receiving random Twitter DMs from him and begging him to return to Orlando to do a stand-up show, he finally came to Orlando last April. Close to the show date, I got a Twitter message from his personal assistant saying that Joel wanted to offer me backstage passes and tickets to the show. (I know, right?) So I got the chance to meet and talk with Joel, my best friend in tow. It was incredible and such a great experience. Joel McHale is — on the surface — the snarkiest, most self-deprecating person you'll ever meet. But not much furhter below that, he's a really kind person. Like, a very appreciative, very nice human being who went out of his way to make my experience memorable and enjoyable.

So when Community was cancelled, I knew Joel would eventually go on to do bigger and better things. I had hoped that he would return to television someday as the lead in another comedy.

I just wish it hadn't been The Great Indoors.

As a millennial, I know that my generation has been reduced to a buzzword lately. And as someone who is a millennial in marketing, I know that to be even more true. We're easy to make fun of (watch John Crist's hilarious "Sponsor a Millennial" spoof), which is why so many people make fun of our generation unnecessarily. I've heard all of the punchlines, too — we're dependent on our phones and digital media; we're narcissistic; we're entitled; we're naive and know nothing about anything that happened before we were born, etc. etc. So when I saw the preview for The Great Indoors, my immediate response was cringing. The jokes weren't funny; they were trite and stale — retreaded comments that I've heard a million times over.

I know that my generation has issues and I know that sometimes we're just plain absurd. But what I think is immensely problematic about the pilot of The Great Indoors is that it serves only to point out what is wrong with this generation, and it does it so extensively that it becomes grating. The characters are caricatures, and if I already dislike all of them off the bat because of that, there's a slim chance I'll stick around longer than the pilot to see what happens to them. To top it all off, Joel McHale's character, Jack, is presented as this aloof, older, out-of-touch character (who would be more engaging if it was discussed that Jack has been living abroad and that's why he's so out-of-touch, but the show doesn't really draw those lines well at all) who clashes immediately with the millennials. I did enjoy the dynamic between Jack and his friend/bartender Eddie. It provided a few nice moments where you can tell that Eddie has assimilated to the culture and has learned how to interact with a younger generation, where Jack is resistant to change, in general, and to changing his ways for other people.

Joel McHale can carry a lot. He's a talented actor who does the best with what he's given here, but let's be clear: he's not given a lot of good material to work with. There's the incredibly snarky dialogue (which he sells), and then there's the incredibly-forced comedy (which he struggles with, because it's forced — like the moment that Jack assumes Mason is gay). The problem with multi-camera comedies is that when a joke falls flat and is accompanied by a laugh track, it's even more evident that the joke is bad.

While I think that the most compelling relationship is the one between Roland (Stephen Fry) and Jack, the show also asked us to care about a relationship that Jack once had with Roland's daughter, Brooke. We obviously know that the show is setting these two up to be a "will-they-won't-they" pairing, but I didn't really sense any sort of chemistry there. Joel McHale had more chemistry with the baby bear, in my opinion. (And does the character remind anyone else of a British attempt at Annie Edison? Maybe that's just the #pathological shipper in me...)

The Great Indoors tries really hard to make millennials the butt of every joke, and it fails because it's just trying too darn hard to be funny. The one moment where I chuckled involved a gag where an elevator closes as Jack says: "blah blah blah." It's a subtle moment, but one that was funny because it wasn't FORCED. I find that the problem I have with mostly every CBS comedy is that they're trying too hard to be funny that they're actually losing humor — and an audience — in the process. If this show wants to succeed and actually get millennials to watch it, maybe it should point out more nuanced humor within the generation rather than beating the same dead horses that everyone else has.

As of now, though, The Great Indoors isn't saying anything new about millennials or generational dynamics — it's just expecting us to laugh when we've been hearing the same tired jokes for years and years.

Pilot Grade: D

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Timeless May Be One of the Strongest Time-Travel Shows Yet

I started watching Doctor Who years ago, and fell in love with it. There is something so fascinating about time-travel, and all of its rules and regulations that makes the hit British sc-fi series so appealing. We get to see the future and different planets more than we get to see The Doctor and his companions travel to the past. And the truth is that over the years, television has replaced one fad with another. This year, that fad seems to be shows about time-travel. Shows about traveling through time aren't really new (as I noted above, Doctor Who has been around for over 50 years and has covered this subject), but they seem to be all the rage this season, replacing the now-tired zombie show fad. When you can flip through the major cable networks and see shows like Time After Time, Legends of Tomorrow, Frequency, and Making History, it might seem difficult and overwhelming to choose a time-travel show that checks all of the important boxes (mystery, rules to messing with time, consequences for breaking aforementioned rules, character development, etc.), but while I was initially skeptical of NBC's newest addition to the time-travel genre, Timeless, I found myself completely compelled by the pilot.

Perhaps my apathy regarding the show came from the over-promotion of it at Comic-Con this past year, where you couldn't walk ten feet without seeing a shuttle bus or billboard for the series. And because the show's debut conflicted with Conviction (a pilot I had screened for ABC and wanted to live-tweet), I brushed the show aside. Fast-forward a few days to me waiting out a hurricane with nothing but my laptop and new pilots to keep me company. And while Timeless isn't revolutionary, necessarily (it provides the same kind of drama you would expect from an NBC series), it is a perfect encapsulation of what a time-travel genre show should be about, hitting all of the right notes and giving viewers a refreshing twist on an already-tired genre.

The show is about a woman named Lucy (Rectify and Suits' Abigail Spencer), a history professor whose mother (played by Arrow's Susanna Thompson) built the department she works in from the ground up and is widely known and respected. Unfortunately, Lucy's mother is dying and there's nothing she can do to prevent that from happening. So it surprises Lucy when she gets a call from the government, requesting her presence at a lab where — apparently — a time machine has just been stolen. After the initial shock and denial wears off, Lucy, together with a soldier named Wyatt (Matt Lanter) and a coder named Rufus (Malcolm Barrett) take off for the 1930s in order to stop the terrorist who stole the machine from enacting his plot.

On the surface, this might seem like a pretty normalized concept for a time-travel show: a criminal does bad stuff and a team has to chase him through time to stop him from doing more bad stuff. I mean, it's essentially Legends of Tomorrow without the superhero costumes. But what I appreciate about Timeless is that it knows in order to be great, it needs to be about more than just time-travel shenanigans. So Timeless establishes hard and fast rules: you cannot go back to a time in which you already have existed. So the team presumably can't travel back to the 1980s or 1990s, because they've already been born. Rufus explains this early on to Wyatt and Lucy — you can't risk crossing paths with your former self in any way; it'll disrupt time and space itself. What's more, you can't travel back to a time you've already been to. At the end of the episode, Wyatt wants to go back and redo what went wrong in the 1930s, but Rufus points out that they can't — they've already been to the 1937. They can't encounter themselves again. I love this rule, because it means that the show can't bend or break logic in order to tell its story. Shows about time-travel that have rules to them are so vitally important.

Furthermore, I love that Timeless tackles the ramifications of dealing with time-travel. We saw this in the Frequency pilot already — saving one life means that you disrupt time in some way. Saving more people than was originally canon on the Hindenburg means that at the end of the episode, Lucy is left without a sister, but with a healthy mother. (And apparently she has a fiance, too.) There are consequences to altering time even a little bit, and I'm excited to see what this means for the team moving forward since they obviously can't go back and fix what they messed up in 1937. If they mess things up in other time periods, how will we see the ripple effects when they return to the future/present? (Time travel, as Community once said, is "really hard to write about.")

Apart from time-travel shenanigans, rules, and consequences, the most important thing that Timeless does is establish relationships and tension in the pilot. Rufus, it's revealed, is secretly spying on Lucy and Wyatt for Connor Mason — the man whose lab invented the time machine that was stolen. We don't know why Mason wants Rufus to record them, but I imagine it's for nothing noble and honorable. Meanwhile, we learn more about Wyatt's backstory in the pilot, and the way that it's set up is intriguing without being exceptionally vague. We even get to see hints of a bond and relationship forming already between Wyatt and Lucy (hello, chemistry). But what's most important of all is the relationship between the time-traveling trio. We're going to see them bounce throughout time together, and already these are three people who consider themselves unlikely heroes — out-of-place and chosen for a mission they didn't necessarily want. I think that the pilot set up a great series where these people will have to learn how to become heroes, living through history without rewriting it. (The different perspectives on how to treat history, I'm sure, will come up as a point of discussion for the trio in the future as well the methods to deal with the bad guys they encounter.)

The final piece of the successful puzzle for Timeless is providing a vague-yet-convincing overarching mystery. Our villain, Garcia (Goran Višnjić), is traveling through time to wreak havoc, but we don't quite know why yet. When Lucy confronts him, he reveals something to her — a journal filled with things apparently written by her. The only issue? She hasn't actually written them yet. Whew, time-travel, right? What is very interesting is that already Garcia has planted seeds of doubt in Lucy's brain and tells her to ask the government about a specific word and why they chose her, of all people, for this mission. Lucy doesn't receive any answers from the government, which makes her — and us, too — suspect that there might be more to this whole time-travel espionage business than meets the eye. I'm excited to see how this particular plot unravels throughout the season, because it has a lot of potential for intrigue and good character development.

Timeless is already off to an incredible start. There is enough humor within the drama to make the show relatable and interesting, enough character development and cast chemistry to make these relationships plausible, and enough mystery to make the show interesting and long-lasting. I'm hopeful that as the characters travel through time, we will learn more about them, more about our mysterious villain, and more about history itself.

Pilot Grade: A

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No Tomorrow is TV's Answer to the Disappearing Rom-Com

I'm obsessed with romantic comedies. And I lament the fact that — in our day and age — there are no summer blockbuster rom-coms like there were ten years ago. Instead, we get big-budget superhero action flicks, and sometimes if we are very lucky, we get films about two different superheroes fighting one another. Perhaps it's because love has become formulaic that writers don't know how to make it interesting and relevant. Perhaps it's because the predictability of these movies lends them to Redbox or Netflix and not cinemas. But whatever the case, the rom-com has been suffering for a while now (so much so that creators like Liz Meriwether have written thousands of words about it), in film and in television. Shows billed as rom-coms like Selfie, (the cringe-worthy) Manhattan Love Story, and The Mindy Project have been cancelled (and in one case, revived) in recent years, while shows currently on television teeter on the line of rom-com (You're the Worst, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend and New Girl aren't really rom-coms in a traditional sense since they're more about the female leads exploring who they are, not who they love). But there's a new player in town, vying for the title of "television's cutest possible apocalyptic-themed rom-com" and that show is No Tomorrow.

I loved Joshua Sasse on Galavant (R.I.P., you quirky musical comedy) and when I began to see trailers for No Tomorrow, I became tentatively excited. It looked exactly like the kind of comedy I get drawn to — understated, deeply human, with characters who find funny in the ordinary. No Tomorrow is a show about a young woman named Evia (Tori Anderson) who is exactly the same as me when it comes to life: she approaches it with deep caution and organization, choosing to plan and take logical leaps (or as a character from New Girl would say: "small, planned steps like an arthritic dog"). She's currently taking a break from her quiet boyfriend, Timothy, who her family adores but who Evie feels no real spark with. But then she meets Xavier (Joshua Sasse), a charming and attractive man at the farmer's market and Evie does what most of us do: projects every romantic hope onto him. When fate sends a package meant to Xavier to Evie's door, she returns it to him and learns more about him — specifically that he lives in a home filled with things you might find in a SkyMall catalog and has no job. And when Evie asks what he does and why... well, she gets more than she bargains for.

You see, Xavier believes that the world has eight months or so left in existence and that an asteroid will strike, causing the end of humanity as we know it. He's done the math and science, and tried to warn others. But no one seems to believe him. And Evie doesn't either. He has to be crazy, right? To live like the world is ending is one thing; to believe it is, is another entirely.

But what I love so much about No Tomorrow already is that it's grounded in the reality that everyone is a little weird. We all have beliefs and theories and our own personal opinions about things that make us sound crazy to other people. (Evie's coworker and good friend thinks that the Russians will cause the end of the world and has an entire drawer of preservative-filled candies in case of the apocalypse, for instance.) And while his methods are unorthodox, the sentiment behind Xavier's statements and actions is not — he wants people to actually LIVE, not to just exist. We were meant to do more than just shuffle through okay jobs, mundane lives, and routines. If we have desires and dreams, we should live them out and fulfill them. Evie has never had anyone (I suspect, since we don't know much about her backstory yet) really push her and encourage her to go for the unstable over the stable. Her mother and sister are well-meaning, but they really just want Evie to ultimately be content and happy in the way they define happiness. 

Evie is much more prone to doing that — if Xavier hadn't come into her life when he did, she probably would have accepted the proposal from Timothy. But she doesn't. And it's not because she has feelings for Xavier at that point (though she does), but because she actually begins to think about her future as something real and not a vague and uncertain future.

Speaking of Xavier and Evie, the two actors who play them have incredible chemistry already. I mean, in all fairness, Joshua Sasse could have chemistry with a rock and I'm sure it would swoon at him. But Tori Anderson is just fantastic as Evie. The young woman is awkward, meek, and even-tempered. She's content to be content, even if that means she just coasts. And Xavier challenges her. He's free, loose, and unafraid to speak his mind. Together, the two are already dynamic. And I think it's because the best relationships challenge one another — he encourages her to pursue dreams and not just settle for what's in front of her; she tells him off, insisting that she will make her own decisions in life. He may be her gentle nudge, but Evie makes it clear in the pilot that she is the one calling the shots.

Amid the cute and quirky comedy, we also had a really unexpected twist: Evie gets injured in an accident (thanks, indirectly, to Xavier) and when she's admitted to the hospital, the doctors discover that she has a heart defect that requires surgery. Xavier saves her life, and — as a thank-you for him accidentally doing that — Evie has decided to live her life. Her steps aren't drastic ones like Xavier's: she doesn't quit her job and start handing out pamphlets about the end of the world. I don't even know if Evie believes what Xavier does about the apocalypse. But what is most important and what she does learn is that life is meant to be lived, not just settled for.

This series could be a really cool romantic comedy with two people trying to learn how to live in a world that just tells us to be practical. Xavier has a book — a lot different than the one Oliver Queen had in Arrow's first season — filled with things he wants to do before the world ends. Some of them are simplistic and selfish; others are profound and will be difficult to accomplish. But they're all important to him in some way. And as Evie and Xavier begin this journey together, I'm excited to see what Evie will add to her own book (adorably titled, by Xavier, "apocalyst"). 

No Tomorrow is unlike any comedy this season. It's quirky and cute, fun and flirtatious — with a twist of weird — and the kind of romantic comedy that I have desperately wanted to see on television. 

Pilot Grade: A-

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There's No Sugarcoating It: American Housewife is Terrible

(Photo credit: ABC)

Back in May, ABC released a whole crop of initial screeners for many of its fall and midseason pilots. So before everyone saw Designated Survivor at Comic-Con, I had sen an initial cut of it. Most of the pilots were fairly solid, but two stood out as the least impressive of the crop: Downward Dog (which will debut midseason and was cringe-worthy in every sense of the word) and American Housewife. The latter premieres on October 11 and is — unfortunately — one of the worst pilots I've seen in a long time. I don't think I enjoyed anything about it, which is disappointing. Essentially the pilot is one fat joke after another, with a few stereotypes thrown in for good measure.

The plot of the show is really pretty simple: Katie and Greg live in a super rich, snooty town in Westport, Connecticut where they're renting a house because they can't afford to buy one there, and are raising three kids. The reason they live in Westport is for their youngest, Anna-Kat. One of my pet peeves in the pilot is that Katie says her daughter has "a touch of the anxieties," which actually means that she has OCD. We see her repeating actions multiple times throughout the episode, including washing her hands. I'm not sure if it's supposed to be played for laughs but Katie's ignorance (either unknowingly or willfully) just irritated me. It's sweet that Katie and Greg have uprooted their lives to help their child, but the way that the show presented her OCD just left me with a bitter taste in my mouth.

Speaking of kids, the one positive that I can say about Katie (oh, don't worry, we'll get to a LOT of the negatives later on) is that she wants her kids to be normal and not to be obsessive about money or status. She admonishes her son, Harrison, for refusing to participate in a canned food drive. And truly, Katie wants her children to not grow up to become as spoiled and materialistic as the other children in Westport. She tries to teach them the value of hard work. Meanwhile, Katie's oldest daughter, Taylor, has recently become well-endowed, which incites... jealousy from Katie?

Most of American Housewife is spent in internal monlogue within Katie's mind, and during the scene in which she explains that Taylor developed over the summer, she also seemingly criticizes the young woman's future saying — essentially — that Taylor won't look like that after SHE has three kids. It's really odd to be listened to in voiceover, and Katie only continues to be more unlikable after that.

Perhaps this pilot's biggest offense, and the show's premise, is in regards to Katie's weight. She bemoans the loss of her neighbor, "Fat Pam," who is moving. And the reason that she's sad to see her friend go? Because then Katie will be the second-fattest mom in Westport. As if that wasn't enough, Katie judges a slender mom who is looking to purchase the home and instead decides to try and convince a heavier woman to buy it.

But wait, kids, there's more!

Katie is elated once she realizes that she's managed to maintain her status, and delights in the fact that the woman who would have purchased the home (who wears not one, but TWO Fitbits) will not live in her neighborhood. But there's a twist: Katie's new neighbor is racist. And homophobic. And when Katie discovers this, it should mean the end of any potential relationship. It should mean that Katie spends all her energy trying to get the new woman to move.

And yet, that's not Katie's first reaction. Her first reaction is to think, selfishly, of the other woman's weight and how her presence will make her feel less self-conscious. I nearly stopped the pilot there, but unfortunately had to finish this trainwreck of a show. Eventually, Katie decides to do the right thing — it should be re-emphasized that it was not her initial thought — and scare away the new neighbor so Two Fitbit can move across the street and presumably, in Kate's mind, ruin her life.

I know that the show was trying to depict a family who doesn't really fit into their neighborhood as struggling to adjust to the culture and stay grounded, but American Housewife is riddled with issues. It's a show that focuses only on Katie's weight, her internal monologue, and presents pretty terrible characters with equally terrible motives. Nothing about the show is funny, and the only reason it's not getting an "F" is because of the fact that at least Katie and Greg seem to care about what happens to their youngest daughter.

If you're looking for a fun family comedy, this one is definitely a swing... and a miss.

Pilot Grade: D-

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