Tuesday, September 28, 2004
James Wolcott Blog
I'm not sure how it does it, but Dennis Farina's thick black-and-white mop of hair manages to upstage everything around it. As the new detective on Law and Order, replacing Jerry Ohrbach's venerable Lenny, Farina dominated his first scene on the show just by sticking his head in the door. I've liked Farina ever since Crime Story--he has the "up" energy of a slick gambler who's had a good day--and he got into the swing of L&O so fast and easy that ten minutes into the season debut you were no longer wondering what the loss of Ohrbach might cost the series. But last night's season debut also pointed up a chronic problem with L&O that has persisted unaddressed for years, not that it seems to matter (given the show's durable ratings and franchise status in reruns). Which is: the "Order" half is so much better--wittier, twistier--than the "Law" half. Episode after episode fractures at the finish, leaving you slightly dissastisfied at having invested so much interest in the outcome. Last night's episode involved Abu Ghraib and brought the Iraq war home all wrapped up in a murder case, which the lawyers then proceeded to muddle. Part of the problem is that the "Law" casting is so stiff compared to the cop procedural stuff. Sam Waterston has been doing his high-sniffy rectitudinous grandstanding for so long it's as if he expects some soft of Atticus Finch statue; Elisabeth Rohm is no worse than Angie Harmon, but no better; and Fred Thompson is a pompous pork chop whose cliched Southern homilies wouldn't be listened to seriously for ten seconds in NY (whereas Steven Hill, with his crusty cut-the-crap irritability and desire to get out of the office before bad news could follow, was the authentic article). The bigger problem is that all of the forensic info gathered in the first half seems to get tossed in the second, as we're subjected to civics lectures and speechy arguments that wouldn't persuade a jury if it weren't for the poignant swelling music accompanying them on the soundtrack. There was one keen visual bit of correspondence last night, however, which cut through the windbaggery. When Ron Silver, playing the defense lawyer, described how the prisoner at Abu Ghraib had a broomstick shoved in his rectum, the camera cut to a black juror, and the viewer had the same thought the juror must have had: Abner Louima. Very few shows are able to practice such telepathy. 
OK, so the rest of you can quit blogging now and just go read James Wolcott's blog. If you don't know who James Wolcott is, you probably aren't a media-obsessed, cynical American pop-culture dork. But I won't hold it against you.
Wolcott is basically the only reason why I still bother glancing at Vanity Fair (also known as the people who are still paying Christopher Hitchens to drink himself to death and write about it). His book reviews for the New York Review of Books are just as entertaining as the books themselves, especially if he hates them. No one spits poison like Wolcott, precisely why I love him so much. (confession: I've only actually read like 3 books in that review list, but I can extrapolate and sound like I know what I'm talking about.)
Here's an article from 1996 where he rips apart TV talk shows' attempt at looking respectable, “Talking Trash.”
Oh, and this is the part where I blockquote an entire blog post because most of you are all too lazy to click the link, not believing me when I say something is good. This one's about Law & Order:
