The Sing-Off: Glee, Without the Suck!

Yes, I still watch Glee.  As skeevy as Mr. Schu can be, Matthew Morrison is yummy and has an incredible voice (still jealous that my mom got to meet him in 2002 when he was in Hairspray on Broadway).  As annoying as Rachel can be, Lea Michele can sure wail.  Quinn and Sam are cute.  Brittany's funny when she's part of the C plot and the occasional A plot.  Mike O'Malley's the best dad ever, and the Darren Criss-led "Teenage Dream" has inspired obsession from me and my sister.  (O hai, Darren Criss.  Please don't be gay.  Please.)

Speaking of "Teenage Dream," I hate the original version.  So why do I love the cover, other than the fact it's sung by people who can actually sing?

The fact that it's a cappella.



You see, I am an a cappella nerd.  When I was in college, I auditioned for my university's group to no avail.  My brother, lucky bastard, has been in two different groups, one of which paid him to sing all summer.  And when Ben Folds released his University A Cappella album last year, it was like peanut butter meeting chocolate for me.  My only complaint is that there wasn't a version of "Zak and Sara" (my all time favorite Ben song).

Last year, I got into a little show called The Sing-Off on NBC, a mini-series of sorts in which a cappella groups from around the country competed for a big cash prize and a record deal.  I loved it, down to host Nick Lachey, his corny puns, and his constant, constant insistence that it was A CAPPELLA, NO ACCOMPANIMENT, JUST VOICES, DID I MENTION IT'S A CAPPELLA, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS IT'S NO VOICES!

This year, it's even more indulgent, more group-y, more dorky and therefore more awesome.

Here's how it works: ten a cappella groups compete for, once again, a cash prize and a record deal.  You've got everyone from a high school group where EVERYONE'S TOTALLY DIFFERENT (but of course the Homecoming Queen is the lead singer, and I spy a purity ring, EW) to the pretentious yet virginal Whiffenpoofs from Yale to a bunch of old dudes led by someone named Jerry Lawson who apparently was a big deal back in the day (anyone?).

You also have an L.A. group called the Backbeats, featuring one of Bob's friends, who happens to have a really good voice and looks adorable on TV.

Judging these musical folk are former Boyz II Men falsetto Shawn Stockman--who's largely useless, aka The Randy, Pussycat Dolls (former?) member Nicole Scherzinger (need I say she's the Paula?  Slightly more coherent though), and one of my personal musical heroes, the incomparable Ben Folds (who unlike Simon isn't an asshole with man boobs, but who like Simon gives good, helpful critiques).

A cappella takes a tremendous amount of skill, which I could never reach despite years of voice lessons and choirs.  You must possess a flawless ear: so you can pick up your own part in an arrangement and also so you can tune out the seven singers around you who are all blaring different things.  No divas, please--you must be able to blend.  Beatboxing helps.  It's intense.

Also, most a cappella puts a new spin on songs, unlike more and more of Glee lately (I do not need another shot-for-shot Britney Spears video.  Come on, Ryan Murphy).

My personal favorites are the aforementioned Backbeats (come on, one of them slept on my couch last year!  Oh yeah, and they're really good), Street Corner Symphony (gotta love Southern hipster boys), and Groove for Thought (oh my God, they're a group of music teachers from Seattle that include a father and daughter, and they're soooo dorky but they totally own it).  I also hesitated to root for Committed because they are really, really religious and that weirds me out, but my God, they sound like Boyz II Men 2.0 and I was a huuuuge Boyz II Men fan in the '90's.  When I was 14, all I wanted was to dance to "On Bended Knee" with a boy who loved me.

So let's sum this up: The Sing-Off is just like Glee, only without:

• Auto Tune
• That stupid "school jazz band" that conveniently appears and disappears whenever
• Finn (need I say more?)
• Santana and Brittany's manufactured fauxbian drama (either do a queer-girl storyline--please do, it would be interesting!--or don't.  And give Santana some motivation for her actions other than just being a heinous bitch).
• Pregnancy

How can you NOT?  Tune in Monday and Wednesday this week!

Here are a few of my favorite performances:

Best Kept Secrets: Friday Night Lights

Here's what you need to know: I grew up hating football.

Hey, nothing wrong with organized sports.  They're good for kids, breed team spirit, help people bond, blah blah blah.  And the entertainment industry spawns just as many assholes.  However, you couldn't convince teenage Unpro.  See, I came of age in a teeny tiny farm town where sportliness was next to Godliness.  And I was a reader/dancer/aspiring actress.  When I chose to attend college in Chicago, going the furthest away of anyone in my graduating class (of 34), exactly no one was surprised.

Though I do have a weakness for certain sports movies--A League of Their Own is what made me a feminist, and The Mighty Ducks had cuuuute hockey boys, plus Gordon Bombay is just really, really fun to say--I'm more a fan of uplifting montages with music cues so I can understand who's hitting what into where.  I guess I like the idea of sports, but not sports themselves.  So when NBC premiered a TV series based on the film Friday Night Lights (a good 'un, but not in my top five fave sports flicks), I was less than interested.

Fast forward almost one year: end of summer 2007.  Bob was on the verge of moving to L.A., but in between packing (him) and preparing to relocate seven blocks (me), he made a trip to Best Buy and blind purchased season 1 of Friday Night Lights.  Over cheeseburgers and coffee that night, we plopped down on the living room floor, fired up the DVD player, and waited to be entertained.

Four episodes and several Kleenex later, we were hooked.

See, Friday Night Lights is all about football, and it isn't.  In the fictional town of Dillon, Texas (based on the real-life town of Odessa, as chronicled in the book Friday Night Lights, written by H.G. Bissenger, cousin of Peter Berg, who directed the film and adapted the book for TV), high school football is essentially the cherry on top of a shit sundae.  The Dillon Panthers are the town's great hope--and for some players, it's the peak of their lives.  Many will escape the tiny town--often with the help of football scholarships, making the stakes even higher--but most will not, proudly sporting their championship rings into gray and paunchy adulthood as they work at car dealerships and/or live vicariously through their athletic offspring and younger siblings.  At the helm of the program is new coach Eric Taylor, who gets For Sale signs on his lawn when the Panthers lose and plays surrogate father to several kids who've had less-than-ideal upbringings.  And when a star player suffers a life-changing injury during the season opener, well, it's a whole new ball game.

Yeah, I know.  Pretty standard sports-movie stuff: coach as father figure, second stringer turned reluctant rising star, fans who at first glance just need to get a life and stop obsessively following teenagers.

So how the hell did Friday Night Lights wrestle laughter, tears, and "touchdown, goddammit!"s from two urban theatrephiles who successfully escaped their athlete-centered farm towns?

Again, it's about football.  But it isn't.

It's about families: balancing a career that both fulfills and pays the bills, with spending time with those you're supporting in the first place.  It's about relationships: falling for someone whose values are the exact opposite of yours, and maintaining love and respect for the ones who've stood by you for years.  It's about a community: zeroing in on the stifling aspects that have some yearning to leave, as well as the comfort that keeps many around.  It's about playing a sport because everyone else does; finding yourself challenged, revered and suspected all at once; caring for a grandparent afflicted with Alzheimer's; having a parent in Iraq and hoping he's safe but knowing life is easier when he's not around; wanting nothing more than to please Coach while also finding his daughter really cute.

And that last sentence?  Is just ONE CHARACTER.

Thanks to the stellar writing and acting of Friday Night Lights, even the most minor characters are everything and nothing they appear to be.  Just as you the viewer root for someone or write them off, one word or gesture changes your whole opinion.  The biggest stereotype evolves into the most complex.  And it's not all gloom and doom.  Every episode is a jewel: funny, intense, nuanced.  Kind of like life.

Seriously.  Even if Remember the Titans and Major League make you want to retch your cornflakes, give Friday Night Lights a whirl.  Netflix, iTunes, Hulu, whatever you need to do, track this show down.  Dive in, watch it, love it.

And for now, enjoy the exquisite opening credits music (four seasons in, and I still don't fast forward past it).

Love the One(s) You're With: Community

At a certain point in your life, you realize that nothing's turned out like you thought it would.

You're not working in the field you studied in school.  You're single or married, when you always predicted you'd be the opposite.  The age you thought you'd have figured everything out?  You're still fumbling and confused as ever, maybe even more so. 

There's also the people you surround yourself with.  At a certain age it becomes a motley crew: those you grew up with, maybe even dated at some point; pals from high school, college and work; and then the ones who are way more random.  The person you agreed to give a ride to one time, from rehearsal of a show you almost dropped out of, that ten years later is like family.

It's meeting these random people, and letting them into your life, however reluctantly at first, that helps you to realize: not having the exact future you wanted or predicted can be a very liberating thing.

I started watching Community for two reasons.  One, a friend in the industry recounted a little exchange from the pilot script that cracked me up (similar to the way I was sold on 30 Rock because of one line: "If you're a gay guy looking for a beard, I don't do that anymore").  And two, well, Joel McHale.  In the days before my obsessive fandom kicked in, I read an interview where he said that he was offered several sitcoms and Community was far and away the best.  No matter what you think of The Soup, the guy has made some good career decisions (witness: The Informant!).  I was intrigued.  Besides, it was on after The Office.

Never have I seen a pilot that touched on moral relativism, Asperger's syndrome, and The Breakfast Club in twenty-two minutes.  With Trudy from Mad Men, the sex addict from Reno 911!, and Chevy MoFo-in Chase.  As in Fletch, Gerald Ford, Clark Griswold: any way you slice it, the guy's a comedy legend. 

McHale's character, Jeff Winger, is a cocky former lawyer disbarred when it's discovered his undergraduate degree is fake.  (Yes, I know it's a slim premise, but think of Mystery Science Theatre 3000 and sing along with me: "Just repeat to yourself, 'it's just a show.  I should really just relax.'")  He enrolls at Greendale Community College and immediately starts hitting on his cute Spanish 101 classmate Britta (Gillian Jacobs).  Britta, however, is not having it, and when Jeff invites her to form a one-on-one study group, she brings along a whole crew: sitcom aficionado Abed (Danny Pudi, Chicagoans represent!), fallen football player Troy (Donald Glover), rehabbed type A Annie (Alison Brie, almost completely unrecognizable from Mad Men and just as awesome), and Christian mom Shirley (Yvette Nicole Brown).  Oh, and corporate magnate-turned-dirty old man Pierce (Chase) also wanders in.  Quite possibly the most diverse group on network TV, the gang experiences weekly dalliances and misadventures, with recurring characters such as the overenthusiastic Dean Pelton (Jim Rash) and surly Professor Chang (Ken Jeong) along for the ride.

A group of wildly different people finding out they have a lot in common, and learning a little bit about themselves along the way?  We've all heard that premise before, but Community makes it fresh while at the same time reminding us that it's the simple stuff that good shows are made of.  The cast is fiercely witty, the writing even more so.  Creator Dan Harmon based the series on his own experiences in a community college study group, and it shows: not only is there a real tenderness in even the silliest joke, but the characters both play into and play with the very stereotypes they're dealt.  Jeff isn't the show's moral center, nor are most of his actions particularly commendable--but he's learning, even as he stumbles along the way, that he's capable of poking fun at himself and doing nice things for others.  Though Britta is smart and confident, she can be awkward in dealing with sensitive social matters (she's sort of a walking Stuff White People Like).  Even Pierce, with his heinously backwards worldviews, is at heart a lonely dude: and though his younger counterparts don't always love what he says, they embrace him for the old fart he is.

I freaking heart the group dynamic of the core cast: they're the kind of characters that are so fun to watch even when they're not doing anything particularly interesting (which according to one of my favorite bloggers, is one of the marks of a kick-ass protagonist).  I love Mad Men, but I wouldn't really want to be friends with any of the characters (except maybe Peggy and Joan).  However, I'd hang with Community's Spanish 101 crew any day of the week.  And the characters form relationships, they stumble, they screw up, they learn from one another.  They may have been thrown together by random acts of course catalog, but now they're thick as thieves (and they protect each other to the end!).

Yes, there have been some eps that aren't so great: just like with Modern Family, Community can falter when it lets itself slide into wacky-antics territory.  At its strongest, however, Community (again, like Modern Family) works real magic combining absurd with emotional, satirical with genuine, and motormouthed with simple.  Think Avenue Q without the puppets.  And at its heart, it's a show about being okay with your place in life, no matter how imperfect that may be.

Did I mention that McHale is naked on one episode?  From a feminist perspective, it's interesting how the show objectifies the hell out of the guy.  Not that I'm complaining.  I just find it intriguing: men usually aren't blatantly objectified on a show that's NOT specifically geared toward women.  Not just the naked ep: he's in tight jeans and T-shirts quite a lot.  That's normally reserved for female characters.

Community airs Thursdays at 7 on NBC.  The most recent episode, along with a host of really funny clips, can be found on Hulu.  Also, there's a hilarious website for the fictional Greendale Community College.

Here's a video of the cast finding out that they were renewed for a second season.  They're so genuinely surprised and happy (and unaware they're being filmed), it's adorable.

The Way I Are: Parks and Recreation

So this week's post isn't going to be my usually wordy diatribe: I'm getting guest blogs in the can for here and here, and need to get my review on here. Also, to anyone in the Chicago area: on Saturday, March 13th at midnight, I'll be giving a lecture on the fantastic film Brick, followed by a screening and discussion. Only $5 and you get to meet me! I'm worth at least $2.50, I swear.

Also, I would like to officially announce that March will be Awesome Authors Month on The Unprofessional Critic! Several factors went into this decision: 1) This is a feminist blog, so I'd be stupid NOT to commemorate Women's History Month one way or another, 2) many of my readers are also writers, whether it's blogs, books, or something else literary beginning with a B, and 3) well, I just happened to get my hands on some friggin' awesome galleys (one of the VERY VERY BEST parts about blogging, FYI). So beginning next week, Awesome Authors Month will feature cool book reviews and author interviews--by and for women (though of course the menz are welcome too!). Should definitely be fun.

Anyway, this week's post. I wanted to stay away from literary stuff because that's going to be all of March, and the only movie I took in this week was (for the second time) Dear John. (YOU turn down a free chance to see Channing Tatum shirtless and Richard Jenkins chew scenery!) I've recently discovered Modern Family, but Nikki already covered that in a most splendiferous manner. Then it occurred to me: I'd talk up another recent TV discovery that hit me with a wallop of, "Why the hell have I not been watching this?"

Ladies and germs, I give you: Parks and Recreation.

I'll be honest with ya: I have yet to watch the first season. I remember hearing the consensus when the show premiered last year: it just really wasn't that good. I kept hearing comparisons of Amy Poehler's character to a female Michael Scott, and if I wanted uncomfortable workplace politics, I figured I could just watch The Office. Then, in a move almost unheard of these days, NBC gave the show another chance--in the form of a full season. And apparently things turned around. The writers and cast found their footing, characters became more developed and . . . wait a minute, the lead character was a feminist and it wasn't used as a JOKE?

After hearing that last tidbit, I knew I had to give it a try. It just so happened to fall on a week where Megan Mulally (whom I've always loved, despite my lukewarm reaction to Will and Grace) guest-starred as conniving librarian Tammy Swanson, ex-wife of martini-dry Ron Swanson (the mustachioed Nick Offerman, Mulally's real-life husband). The combination of slapstick and cerebral humor, not to mention the authentic Midwestern feel and giggle-inducing ensemble means I haven't looked back.

Yes, I'm now a full-on Must-See Thursday devotee. Y'all KNOW about my unabashed lovelust for Joel McHale, which I admit has just gotten worse. I'm talking serious celebrity crush--not since The Great Rainn Wilson Fixation of 2006 has a handsome, smart stranger captivated me so. And by the way, Community totally rocks--a smooth cocktail of McHale, Chevy Chase, and a lovably snarky band of miscreants gets me every week. 30 Rock can be cartoonish and broad, but Tina Fey and Alec Baldwin's dream team manages to salvage even the silliest of eps. And though I have to admit The Office can grate on me--why is Michael borderline mentally challenged this season? Anyone? And was Pam always such an entitled brat?--the heartwrenchingly touching wedding episode gives it a pass for at least the rest of this season.

Parks and Recreation is the latest addition to my NBC viewing party. Here's the scoop: Leslie Knope (Amy Poehler) is an earnest local government employee in Pawnee, Indiana whose long-term goal is to become the first female President, and whose short-term goal is to build Pawnee a new park. Leslie's best friend Ann (Rashida Jones, who's just too cute for words--can I please look like her in my next life?) is a nurse and concerned citizen, and an enthusiastic participant in various town meetings. Add into the mix Leslie's coworkers--including her unsmiling boss Ron (Nick Offerman), her douchetastic assistant Tom (Aziz Ansari), and surly college student April (Aubrey Plaza), not to mention her former fling Mark (Paul Schneider), who is now dating Ann, and Ann's doofy hipster ex-boyfriend Andy (Chris Pratt)--and you have a mishmash of personalities who may not always agree, but get into all sorts of fun scrapes and run-ins with the citizens of Pawnee.

Did I mention that everybody LIKES each other?

Okay, I'm not the first person to have this observation. I believe it was Entertainment Weekly. But here's the thing about shows like The Office: while I dig the cringe-inducing humor and can totally relate to cube-farm battles, sometimes the animosity wears on me. And I will never back down from my Tina Fey is a Friggin' Genius stance, but 30 Rock doesn't have the best character development. What I really love about Parks and Recreation (and Community and Modern Family as well) is that while the core characters don't always see eye to eye...they just as often band together and help each other out.

Case in point: on a recent episode of P and R, Leslie hosted a dinner party to impress her new love interest, the gentlemanly lawyer Justin (the DELECTABLE Justin Theroux--check out Mulholland Dr. and Six Feet Under for more of his smoldering sexiness). Leslie is so devoted to her job that other than Ann, she doesn't have a lot of friends outside of work. Therefore, the majority of people she invites are coworkers...and they show up, not because she's their superior (because in Ron's case, she isn't), but because they like her and Justin and want the relationship to work.

Leslie herself can be quite misguided and socially awkward, but where Michael Scott can get downright mean in his cluelessness, Leslie's heart is almost always in the right place. Though her reunion of Ron and his ex-wife Tammy doesn't turn out well, it's because Leslie genuinely had no idea that their relationship was so contentious and unhealthy (it also helped that Tammy was hugely manipulative and had her eyes on the lot Leslie wants to use for the park). Leslie just thought Ron would feel better if he made amends with his ex.

Also, it's nice to see a single woman on TV without Manolo Blahniks or fake boobs (sure, Poehler's beautiful, but it's a relatable beauty as opposed to unattainable model material) . . . well, get some. Leslie's former one-night stand, Mark, not only works with her but is now dating her best friend. And Leslie and Mark have a nice, friendly relationship. This season alone, Leslie has had not one but TWO boyfriends: a bumbling but sweet cop named Dave (Louis C.K. in a gentle turn free of his usual profanity) and the aforementioned Justin. And of course there's physical attraction involved, but both men are also OPENLY ADMIRING OF HER SMARTS. This shouldn't be revolutionary on TV in 2010. Except it kind of is.

Finally, the writing and acting is stellar. I will say that Ansari gets on my nerves at times, but maybe that's because I've known adult frat boys, like his character Tom. Rashida Jones' Ann often serves as the "straight man" in jokes, but she's getting some zingers and comic moments of her own lately. Pratt's Andy is hysterical in his attempts to win back Ann and his cluelessness at life, and Plaza's April never fails to crack me up with her unsmiling eye-rolling at the politics of Pawnee. But the real standout is Nick Offerman as Ron (Fucking) Swanson. Let's face it, thick mustaches are hilarious. But it's more than that: Offerman's impatience with local government and life lends itself to barbs that are both resigned and quietly simmering. The guy's delivery is im-fucking-peccable.

Oh, and Leslie Knope's feminism. She is uncomfortable in strip clubs (though she treats Tom in light of his divorce). She idolizes Hillary Clinton and keeps pictures of other powerful women in her office. She insists on being involved in a previously all-male hunting trip. She has outright claimed to be a feminist. And NONE of this is played for laughs. If this doesn't make your bleeding heart happy, you're no daughter of mine.

Parks and Recreation can be seen every Thursday on NBC, at 8:30/7:30 Central (after Community). Also, the last 5 episodes are on Hulu. So why aren't you watching right now?

Wait, I take back my apology: that WAS a wordy diatribe.

Happy Monday, y'all!