Intervention
I have been watching Intervention, which airs Monday nights at 8pm on A&E, since early January.
How the show works: a documentary film crew follows an addict who has agreed to be in a documentary about addiction, but does not know they will soon face an intervention. In order to be on the show, a family member must contact A&E on behalf of the addict. After being filmed for a number of days, the addict goes to a hotel conference room where they expect to be giving their final interview for the documentary. When they arrive at the interview, they find their whole family, and an interventionist, waiting for them. The intervention is filmed, as is the addicts trip to rehab, if they choose to go.
There are a wide variety of addictions represented, including methamphetamine, alcohol, prescription painkillers, heroine and food. While filming, I’m not sure that anything is off-limits. They present the addicts just as they are. You will see heroine users shoot up, crack-heads smoke crack and mother’s leave their children with someone else so they can go get their next fix. Every episode either shocks me or makes me cry.
Sometimes I wonder if it is all for real. The lives these people lead are almost unbelievable. But on occasion, you can figure out why they do what they do. On a particularly moving episode I saw recently, a 24 year old man was an alcoholic, self-destructive to the point of being suicidal. I wondered what in the world could lead him to want to destroy his life. Then they started interviewing his parents. His mother used to sell drugs out of her house and had only stopped after being busted by the cops and sent to prison for five years. That was a pretty extreme case, but you get the idea.
The most common denominator in each situation is that the addicts were enabled to continue their lifestyle by the friends and loved ones that had turned them in. Some were given money, others a place to live, but none were completely on their own out living on the streets. The inverventionist would often suggest family members attend counseling or AA while their loved one was away at treatment, claiming that the addict could never fully recover unless the dysfunctional family started working on their issues.
Intervention takes a good look at addiction and helps everyone in the situation, including the viewer, understand that choosing to do something based on emotionally painful events is not a good idea. Many times it leads to addiction. You’ve got to tell each other how you feel. Never let it fester. Never try to hide it away or cover it up. Be honest with yourself. It is a sobering message whether you’re addicted to anything or not.
The O.C.
The O.C. aired on Fox beginning in 2003 and was short-lived with only four seasons. Half teeny bopper drama and half adult soap opera, The O.C. was the perfect mix of Beverly Hills 90210 and Melrose Place. It offered something to everyone.
The show was set in high class Newport Beach in Orange County, Calif., and was a look into the private lives of the people that live there. Though they seemed perfect on the outside, beautiful and rich, each character had a secret. Each episode took you further into their past, explaining why their present was the way it was. Their interactions were interesting, and each twist in the plot sucked you further into their surprisingly dysfunctional lives.
One thing that made this show an original was the music. It was always something fresh and Indie, including bands like Death Cab for Cutie, Spoon, Interpol, Sufjan Stevens, Modest Mouse and Beck. Another thing I felt put The O.C. on a higher level than other shows was the time the producers spent developing each character, something I feel is necessary for a quality evening soap opera.
First is Ryan Atwood, who arrived in Newport Beach in the midst of a very confusing teenage-hood. He was raised on the wrong side of the tracks, made some bad decisions and had to create a new life for himself in an unfamiliar environment. After getting arrested, his attorney, Sandy Cohen, took him into his home in hopes it would help Ryan get on the right path. Ryan is James Dean with a dash of JFK, which makes his character attractive, mysterious, engaging and a tiny bit innocent.
Sandy Cohen is a public defender. He doesn’t make much money, but the independent wealth of his wife Kirsten allows him to follow his passion. His Jewish heritage comes up occasionally, but it does not drive who he is. His compassion for others and genuine, likable personality makes him stand out from other characters as an honest guy with nothing to hide.
Kirsten Cohen is an exec in her father’s multi-million dollar real estate company. She and Sandy are very much in love, the perfect couple, and have one child, a son named Seth. Her father, Caleb Nichol, is a run-of-the-mill, ruthless businessman and she often finds herself in moral dilemmas due to his lack of ethics.
Seth Cohen is nerdy, but lovable and cute. He serves as comic relief through nearly every episode. Seth has a natural talent for comic book style art, often finding escape in his superhero characters. He is a kind soul and takes Ryan under his wing, accepting him as a brother.
Marissa Cooper is tall and thin, a classic beauty with the personality to match. She began the show dating the captain of the Polo team, but was set up right away to have a relationship with Ryan. The good girl and the bad boy, madly in love, much to the chagrin of her parents.
Julie Cooper is Marissa’s mother. She is the black-hearted vixen looking out only for herself. Though she has a family, Julie is selfish in all of her actions and is always causing trouble for everyone.
Summer Roberts, Marissa’s best friend and Seth’s secret love, is petite and beautiful, the sexy Newport Beach girl next door. She’s book smart and quick-witted. Her serious, logical side comes out often when giving advice to everyone else.
There were numerous other well developed characters that played an integral role in the plot of the show. The above characters all had boyfriends, girlfriends, stalkers and secret loves along the way. Babies were born and people died. The O.C. lasted four seasons, three of which I have watched.
At the end of season three, Marissa Cooper died. I think The O.C. died with Marissa.
My theory on why the show didn’t make it is that they changed main characters mid-stream. Though Ryan was set up from the start to be the main character, they made Marissa Cooper more interesting. And we all knew she was going to die. They spent season three pushing her and Ryan apart as she fell prey to drugs, alcohol and mis-placed love, one step closer to the edge by the end of each episode. Once Marissa was out of Ryan’s life for good, there was no longer hope they would end up together forever. The romance that waxed and waned between Seth and Summer was not dramatic enough to evoke the same amount of interest from viewers. Attempts to bring new love into Ryan’s life fell short and were always disappointing.
Though I was sad to see The O.C. go, it almost overstayed its welcome. From what I heard, season four was a complete bust and if they had continued with a season five, I’m afraid fans would have only ended up forgetting what made it so good.
I loved The O.C., and some of my “educated” friends made fun of me for watching it. But I was avenged one Friday evening while listening to This American Life on NPR. My love for this night soap opera had been confirmed by a highly regarded, intelligent man. Ira Glass, the host and a nerdy pop-culture icon, was doing a live anniversary show. He wrapped it up by sharing the sadness he felt after watching the last episode of The O.C., as a single tear slid down his cheek while he and his wife sang along with the theme song, California by Phantom Planet, for the last time.
“California here we come, right back where we started from…California!…”
A Sick Twist
I can honestly say that the majority of my television watching revolves around reality, or reality-based, shows. I have not regularly followed a fiction show for years. I always find myself addicted to the point that I schedule my life around a particular show, which I think is ridiculous of me.
The last fiction show I allowed to take over my life was Grey’s Anatomy, but that was three years ago. I started planning meetings, dinners, etc. on the night and time the show would be coming on. After a month or so, I tried to watch it again and couldn’t. I thought it was stupid. The same thing happened with Desperate Housewives.
My general methodology of choosing a fiction show to watch regularly includes addict-ability. If I think I could become addicted to it, I won’t watch it. In light of my unorthodox selection methods, I have recently begun watching Nip/Tuck.
In early December 2007, I found myself at home on a Saturday night with nothing to watch on television. I saw that a re-run of Nip/Tuck was on and had remembered a recent conversation with a friend about the show. All I knew about it was that the main characters were good-looking plastic surgeons with a successful Los Angles practice. I decided to watch it having no idea what I was getting into and of course, now I can’t stop watching it.
Since I am new to the show, let’s see if I can get this straight:
Doctors Christian Troy and Sean McNamarra are the stars. They are roommates, middle-aged, attractive and always on the look out for a new piece of hot, LA ass. The abundance of their indiscretions does not bring them any shame as they often brag openly about their conquests. The doctors have long carried on a love/hate relationship with each other due to the constant recurrence of selfish, hurtful actions.
The basic rundown:
Sean used to be married to Julia. They have a son, Matt, but Christian is Matt’s real father because he and Julia had a secret affair. Sean found out, but naturally, he forgave both of them. Matt marries Kimber, a porn star and former lover of Christian, Matt’s real father, they have a baby and get addicted to meth. Sean and Julia get divorced then Julia became a lesbian. All of this, and more I’m sure, happened before I started watching the show.
Julia’s girlfriend, Olivia, has a daughter, Eden. Eden hates Julia so she begins sleeping with Sean and dosing Julia’s food and drink with mercury. In the meantime, Sean, Christian and Julia’s son Matt continues nursing his meth addiction with coaxing from his porn star wife who spends all of their money on drugs instead of buying food for their baby. He tries to be a good dad and seeks help from Christian, who refuses to support his drug habit with finances. Kimber decides to get back into porn so they will have money for drugs. She asks Christian to help reduce the visible signs of her addiction, and he agrees on one condition: she must leave Matt and give him full custody of baby Jenna. Kimber agrees, but reneges on her deal. She leaves Matt for Ram Peters, her former lover and the owner of a porn production company, taking the baby with her. Matt falls apart, tries to cook meth, sets his apartment on fire, and burns his face.
Whew. I know. We’re almost up to speed.
Julia and her girlfriend Olivia are kidnapped. Olivia’s resulting emotional breakdown leads to their break-up and to Julia and Christian getting back together. Now Julia is sick, suspecting she has AIDS, not knowing that she is still being poisoned by Eden, and Christian thinks she’s faking her illness so he breaks up with her.
Eden decided to be a porn star and did a film with Kimber. Sean, who Eden is madly in love with, got her out of her contract with Ram Peters after she begged for help. Colleen told Eden that Sean doesn’t love her, which is untrue, but Eden decided to go back to Ram and Kimber.
Christian is seduced by a former lover, Gina, who he met in Sexaholics Anonymous, who has AIDS, and who he accidentally pushed off of a balcony during their last romp. Christian is now faced with the knowledge that he directly contributed to her death, mostly because he didn’t tell anyone else what really happened, and the responsibility of taking care of her son Wilbur, whom he promised to raise.
Sean is now the star of a television show called Hearts and Scalpels. He is high on his stardom and fairly oblivious to everything going on around him. His agent, Colleen, is not really an agent, makes teddy bears, and killed another agent to keep him away from Sean. Once Sean learned she wasn’t a real agent, he fired her. Colleen then broke into his house and slit her wrists on his balcony.
So yeah. Why do I watch this show again?
It is absolutely the most twisted thing I have ever allowed myself to watch. My friend even told me she was worried that I liked the show. It made me question myself about my reasons for watching such a “disgusting” (in her words) television show.
Part of the attraction is that I wonder what kind of crazy shit is going to happen next. Another part is that the characters are, in my opinion, selfish, soulless individuals that represent all that is wrong with humanity. Each one loves and hates each of the other ones. None of them give a shit about anyone but themselves. Their lives revolve around the world of money, drugs and sex. This is all something I am unfamiliar with and although it is fictional, I find myself finding some kind of base honesty in the show as a whole.
Most of all, I wonder, does stuff like this really happen and do people really act this way?
Rain, Rain, Don’t Go Away
Music has always been a part of my life. My parents weren’t connoisseurs with album collections and favorite bands, but still, music was always around. We didn’t have a television for many years, and we always lived in the middle of nowhere. Radio music broke the monotony of many a board game or long car ride. Because of this, my taste is eclectic. I am not knowledgeable about any single band or genre. I find that I can connect with almost any kind of music.
There is one song I call my ultimate favorite. It has a catchy tune and the words dig deep into my soul, reminding me every time I hear it that it is so good to be alive.
The moment: a late 70’s model green hooptie station wagon cruising what is now considered “the hood” of Little Rock, windows down, I Love a Rainy Night by Eddie Rabbit blasting out the speakers, a 50-something woman driving, a small blonde-haired girl in the seat next to her, both singing at the top of their lungs and playing the dashboard to the beat.
Memories of weekends with Mamaw find their way into my thoughts regularly. I learned to love life from my grandmother. All of it. The good and the bad all wrapped up. I also learned that life doesn’t always follow the rules. This particular song seemed to embody the spirit of my grandmother, and experiencing it with her, in her free-spirited way, instilled in me an appreciation for all that this world has to offer.
All of those times we drove around singing Eddie Rabbit, escaping our respective “rainy nights,” we were really living. Letting our cares drift out the windows of that old, green station wagon. Loving nothing more in the world at that moment than Eddie Rabbit, life and each other.
My grandmother and I are still very close. She often chooses to talk with me about her problems rather than one of her seven children. She says she trusts me. The last few years have been especially difficult for her, and for me. As she gets older, we see her freedoms slipping away and there is nothing we can do about it. My uncle recently moved her into a retirement village apartment complex. She had to give up her house and her dog. Her ability to have a house and take care of a dog has always represented her independence. Now she lives alone in an apartment surrounded by old people. At 78, she still refuses to see herself as old.
I know I’m digressing into a sad commentary about the fate of my elderly grandmother, but it’s relevant. Spending time with my grandmother was like attending the church of life. I still had to behave myself, but I was allowed to be wild and free. Things were loose, somewhat unstructured, but there was an element of maturity and understanding piecing that wildness and freedom together that only someone who had experienced life at its best, and its worst, could impart. Not only someone who had experienced it, but someone who embraced it and allowed it to enhance who they were.
That is what music does for me. It sews the experiences of my life together, reminding me of moments, emotions and people. I can wrap myself up in this unorthodox quilt, finding comfort in all that has been and the person I have become. When my grandmother passes on, I’ve promised to sprinkle her ashes somewhere beautiful and interesting. You can be sure that my windows will be down and Eddie Rabbit will be accompanying us on our final adventure together.
And just for fun, here is a link to I Love a Rainy Night. Enjoy.
Permission to Over-Analyze 