Bloodless Coup

Popular

Since we don't have a teen-comedy category (and I dread the thought of how much time I'd waste if I created one) I'm filing the following under "culture" - because really, how do we study American culture and society if not through teen comedies?

I’ve begun watching the first season the old WB series “Popular”. I remember seeing a bit of it when it was on the air (the show only lasted two seasons) and at that time the series struck me as being heavily influenced by Parker Lewis (yes!!!) and Ally McBeal (such a mixed bag). I am becoming a fan of this. Now being an afficiando of teen comedies that is perhaps not that surprising. But the thing is that early in the series it seems to have very much resembled Dawson’s Creek (no!!!!!) and Beverly Hills 90210 (good god no!!!!!) in terms of its level of melodrama. And while I prefer its comedic bits, even the melodrama is captivating. Why? When it sticks to that tone it is a train wreck of extraordinary proportions, and if you’re having a bad day and want to get away from reality … well, this is much less realistic than an Anne Rice novel or an episode of Passions. Which isn’t to say it’s very good melodrama. It’s not. It’s not even remotely passable. But it’s just so horrible that it’s hard to turn away from the disaster unfolding in-front of you.

The number one problem with the show is that the character who according to the norms of television should be the heroine (and this show is nothing if not painfully predictable in terms of its plot “twists”, “very special episode” sentiments, and conformity to many of TV's norms) is the most dislikable character I’ve come across in TV, film or literature since … well, possibly since I learned to read or turn on a television. Sam is the rebel girl. You know, that very special unique individual (the kind who’s so unique she shows it be getting her nose pierced!) who challenges the norms and calls the cheerleaders and jocks on their elitism. But you see the problem is that the cheerleaders and jocks are such better people than she is. Even Nicole Julian, the show’s uber-bitch character (imagine a tight-pored blonde under 20 pounds of lip-gloss who has the black heart and perfectionist tendencies of Hannibal Lecter), is nicer than Sam. Yes, Nicole would happily dine on puppies for breakfast if it was the trendy thing to do, but at least she protects her friends occasionally. Sam is clinically obsessed with the popular kids, is very clearly paranoid, and does everything in her power to bring them down, no matter who she hurts in the process. And she hurts pretty much everyone on the show, repeatedly. One of the many unusual incongruities that the writers force upon the viewers is that Sam tends to spend every episode whining, pulling hideous “rebellious” pranks, criticizing and undermining her pack of outcast friends (another set of characters who are much nicer and more appealing than her) in her drive to “expose” the generally well-meaning head cheerleader, Brooke McQueen. Yet at the end of every episode they forgive her for some reason (that has yet to be comprehensible even one time presuming these aren’t the most needy co-dependents on the planet) and everyone agrees that Sam was really right about everything. Of course if this show was set on planet Earth presumably one of these people would develop a spine and recognize the fact that the only people who should be talking to Sam would be the guards and doctors at the high security mental institution where she belongs. She really is a sociopath. But she’s also really dull. For somehow managing to pull off that combination we really should give the writers a round of applause – or see to it that they never work again.

So the show is burdened with this megalomaniacal queen of mope (and the mope is yet another conundrum of the show – aside from the fact that she’s desperately jealous of the cool kids it’s hard to see that there is anything remotely tough or hard in Sam’s life), some of the worst opening credits in the history of television, and the soporific, yet seemingly obligatory, storylines involving the parents. Oh, and I haven’t even mentioned the fact that every episode has at least 4 Three’s Company misdirection moments, but that everything is always wrapped up with the definitiveness of a Scooby-Doo mystery in a mere 40 minutes. But all that said, the show offers non-cringe-inducing entertainment too.

Popular earns plenty of laughs with its imagined day-dream scenes, fantasy episodes, episodes with storylines that are genre classics (a homecoming queen election episode), as well as the wildly stereotypical ways in which some of the secondary characters are designed and cast (the fat would-be cheerleader, the prancing drama teacher, pasty chess club nerds with bad hair and bad clothes who actually eat dirt). And some of the rest of the characterizations and castings are clever in a quite different way. The show features yet more stock characters – but gives them complexities that turn some of the conventions of teen shows on their head. Take the school’s Queen B, Brooke McQueen and Josh Ford (the quarterback). These are two of the more appealing young characters on TV in recent years. Yes, they have a tendency to sometimes overlook the people outside of their clique. But at heart both are really extremely nice, and they handle Sam’s barbs and attacks with considerable grace. When they do make mistakes, they are quick to own up to them. It’s really a rather interesting way to portray the popular kids. Or consider Nicole Julian. When the bio teacher calls her “Satan’s child” no doubt every character in the classroom thinks that’s on target. The thing is though that she’s not simply some cruel, self-involved bitch (that would be our “heroine” Sam). She enjoys being vicious, but there are larger reasons for her behavior. She’s been hurt in her life, and she sees despair and rackets all around her. She would think that the rules of the universe are encapsulated in Leonard Cohen’s ‘Everybody Knows’ (or she would if she knew the song, and maybe she does – the show is filled with more than its share of anachronistic 1980’s references), and she does everything in her power to manipulate the things that surround her in order to maintain her position in (or atop) the social pecking order (as an example, she is the only person who votes strategically in the race for homecoming queen). She’s the big bad, but it’s not as if she was simply evil without a purpose (like, say Amber on Cluless – not that I don’t enjoy Amber). And if you like your television filled with over-the-top side characters of the Cosmo Kramer or Karen Walker variety, Roberta Glass, April Tuna and Mary Cherry add a lot of extremely broad laughs to the show. If the show had become more of a hit Mary Cherry could have easily eclipsed Patsy and Edina as drag queen favorites. I mean c’mon: she’s a Bob Mackie-wearing, Christian oil princess from Texas whose career aptitude test tells her she should be a serial killer. And her mother (Cherry Cherry) is played by Delta Burke!

So there are a number of funny and even mildly uplifting reasons to watch the show (while it offers plenty of been-there script topics, like the body images of teenage girls, it also offers some surprises, like considering the body image issues of male athletes). Overall, it’s kind of trashy and far too frequently tiresome – but I’m afraid I’m getting hooked.

By the way - if you ever want to read truly hilarious scathing reviews of TV shows, teen comedies or not, I urge you to check out Television Without Pity. The summaries there tend to be much better than most TV shows themselves.