Farewell, Poor Echo, We Hardly Knew Thee...

Last night, at 9:58pm, Joss Whedon's Dollhouse quietly passed into the annals of television history. The cause of death was an acute lack of interest in the show and its characters, even among the Whedon faithful (myself included). And I doubt many will mourn its loss.

In football there's a concept known as a "play that took too long to develop;" a good idea in theory that didn't work so well when applied in practice. I believe this term accurately describes Dollhouse, as well.

When the show was first announced, I was understandably excited and enthusiastic. I've been a fan of Eliza Dushku since her break-out role as Faith on Whedon's Buffy: The Vampire Slayer. And Wrong Turn has become one of my favorite B-horror movies. So, when I heard she was teaming up with Joss again, it sounded like a can't miss prospect.

However, the first season was a disorienting mash-up of self-contained, one-off, Bionic Woman retreads and convoluted conspiracy drama that made the X-Files seem lucid. After briefly giving it another chance, I gave up on the show a few episodes into season two because I had absolutely no idea what any of the characters' motivations were.

When I tuned in a few months later, after its imminent cancellation was common knowledge, I was taken aback at how intense the show had gotten. The plot actually made sense and the narrative was finally building toward something. And therein lies the problem. By the time Dollhouse finally hit its stride, the network had already pulled the plug.

I've heard a lot of complaints that Fox tampered with the show to the point of ruining it. But that shouldn't surprise anyone, least of all Joss. Not after they famously aired the episodes of his last series, Firefly, out of order.

This is, after all, the same network that canceled Family Guy only to resurrect it three years later as one of its flagship franchises. Giving up on modern cult-classics like Freaks & Geeks, Undeclared, Arrested Development and the aforementioned Firefly before they found their respective audiences probably wasn't the smartest move either, in my opinion.

While I'm a huge fan of his work, I have to call Whedon out on the questionable decision to enter into another deal with Fox after the Firefly fiasco. There's something to be said here for the old axiom, "fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me."

At it's best, Dollhouse was riveting. At it's worst, it was mediocre. That's better than most shows ever get. Unfortunately, in the 21st century, you can't afford to take very much time getting to the fireworks factory.

Yellow Fever

Sunday night Fox paid tribute to its biggest, and most unlikely, success story. To celebrate The Simpsons' 20th anniversary, the network commissioned documentary filmmaker Morgan Spurlock (Supersize Me, 30 Days) to chronicle the show's far-reaching influence around the globe and proliferation into all aspects of popular culture here at home. The result was both insightful and entertaining.

When it debuted in 1989 as a spin-off from Fox's The Tracey Ullman Show, few expected The Simpsons to last more than 13 episodes let alone two decades. However, the animated comedy reflected an upheaval in our culture, offering an irreverent look at the changing dynamic of the traditional American household. The fact that its' characters were four-fingered and yellow just made it easier, sometimes even cathartic, to laugh at them and their antics.

As a 9 year-old kid from a dysfunctional, lower-middle class family, I identified with the Simpsons' plight from episode one. Growing up, my personality was basically half-Bart and half-Lisa, the former being a trouble-making prankster and the latter a frustrated intellectual. Over the years, my connection to the show only grew stronger.

For instance, when his family couldn't afford the expensive video game that all of his classmates had, Bart was faced with the temptation to shoplift it. I understood that dilemma because I'd lived it. Or when Lisa faced widespread derision for becoming a vegetarian and later a Buddhist (both changes I've undergone). Or when Homer broke his jaw and later tore the Anterior Cruciate Ligament in his knee (both injuries I've sustained). All of these shared experiences taught me an important lesson: it's much easier (and healthier) to laugh at one's misfortunes than to cry or complain about them.

The Simpsons has given me something to look forward to every week for the last 20 years. I love the show because it's become an integral part of who I am. It's in my DNA, for better or worse. At this point, I have to face the fact that the most successful, long-term relationship of my entire life is with a TV show. And I'm shockingly okay with that.