August 5, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

BEVERLY HILLS, Calif. -- In the eyes of some of its biggest legends, TV is a cruel, cruel world. The news is so harsh, Tim Conway jokes that he would have ended up unemployed or in prison if he had been treated the way stars are now.

"It's so cruel nowadays. Somebody makes a mistake in life, and they just pound on it until they just put you out of the business," says Conway, 73.

"If somebody investigated my private life, I'd probably be in San Quentin for the rest of my life. We just happened to pass through that era without getting caught, I guess."

They issue this complaint while promoting PBS' "American Masters: Carol Burnett," coming Nov. 5, and "The Pioneers of Television," a mini-series airing sometime next year. Conway and other stars of his generation categorically say TV has become, if not worse with age, a pitiless place.

Burnett, 74, says "The Carol Burnett Show" staged some sketches that were "pretty pointed ... but we were never intentionally cruel."

"It's a different world, and everybody is talking 'edgy': 'Let's get edgy,' " she says.

Too often, that means comedy writers use "blue" language as a crutch to get laughs.

"I'm not a prude. I think if it's called for and if it's within the character, it doesn't bother me a bit," Burnett says. But "if somebody says every four-letter word in the book to get a laugh, that's an easy laugh." (Young improvisation comedians usually say the same thing.)

Ed McMahon, 84, is disappointed in the constant nastiness of TV. On "Star Search" he was never mean to contestants, which included Beyonce, Usher, Christina Aguilera and, he says, "pardon the expression -- Britney Spears."

"We didn't have Simon Cowell," McMahon says. "I mean, that's an element of 'American Idol' that is certainly not to be dismissed. I don't particularly like when someone is on that's talented, being criticized."

Then again, for years at "The Tonight Show," he and Johnny Carson were so reined in, they were banned from saying "pregnant."

"Nowadays, you can say anything you want. I mean, I think that's a big change in the business. I think for worse," he says.

Tony Orlando, 63, goes further. He believes TV is actually dragging down America.

"I see too much bickering and too much putting down," Orlando says. "I think it hurts the nation. I think that the nation has gotten a little bit of a harder heart because of that kind of irreverent comedy."

Within the entertainment industry, Orlando says, stars are less kind to each other, too. He misses the "support system between entertainers" that marked the dawn of his fame.

"There was a sense of helping the other young guys starting out. I remember the first time I did 'The Tonight Show.' I was a nervous wreck," Orlando says. But Sammy Davis Jr. walked up to Orlando after his performance and said, "You know, your career is going to go a long way. You did very well."

"That's not there anymore," Orlando says.

Yet in a way, Orlando is more upbeat about TV than his peers. He doesn't think shows are all that different structurally. Charlie Rose is akin to Dick Cavett, and "American Idol" is like a variety show, he says.

"There's somewhere in the vicinity of five to 800 channels to be offered to an audience in this country," he says. "Shows still find their place. I think the competition is good, and I think it provides for better television."

But Cavett, 70, isn't so impressed. Like Conway, he's appalled by cable news.

"I can't stand watching the news networks, because of that horrendous thing they do. If you get somebody on who is being very interesting [in an interview], he's made the size of two airmail stamps in the corner.

"And because he mentioned Iraq, we have to see that same door being kicked in," he says. "And then if he mentions Chicago ... they show the Wrigley Building."

So there you have it, a reasoned complaint of people who helped make TV what it is, spouting views that are probably shared by many older viewers across America.

Will TV executives listen? Absolutely not. These stars do not fit in the sought-after demographic of commercial-watching people between 18 and 49. To suits who run TV, there is no less desirable viewer than someone Carol Burnett's age.

deflman@suntimes.com

-=-=

TV just ain't what it used to be

August 5, 2007
The legends of TV were pioneers of the boob tube, not users of YouTube.

Carl Reiner -- while promoting his 2008 PBS special "The Jewish Americans" -- says he wouldn't know how to begin to post clips of the show online.

"I don't know what YouTube is. Isn't that terrible?" he says. "When you get to be 85, you don't understand the music that comes [as well]. ... I think it's age. We don't stay au courant. I stay au courant about baseball, things like that, but not about the new iPod."

• Carol Burnett thinks "The Carol Burnett Show" would have trouble surviving in today's TV climate, not just because prime-time variety shows are mostly dead, but because networks are quicker to cancel ratings-struggling shows -- which her show was at first.

"I feel sorry for writers," says Burnett. "Now, it's all pretty much reality shows. "I miss the good dramas and I miss good comedies. And I do miss variety. I mean singing, dancing, sketches, costumes, guest stars."

• Tim Conway largely credits studio audiences for making "The Carol Burnett Show" funny.

"We didn't have a laugh track in those days, so if you didn't get a laugh, you heard the air conditioner. So you went out there and made a silly fool of yourself. You went to wardrobe, got a funny costume, then went to makeup and got a mustache, and then you came up with a voice and you went out there."

• Betty White's first steady gig was a TV variety show. For $50 a week, she was on the air 5½ hours a day, six days a week. At the time, that was real money.

"I thought I had died and gone to heaven," says White, 85 (and an Oak Park native), more than half a century later.

"So many people these days," she says, "they don't have the training ground that they used to have with the Johnny [Carson] show and with 'The Dick Cavett Show.' But they come on, and their eyes are blank. They're not talking to anybody. That, I just miss that personal end."

• Dick Cavett misses the kinds of celebrities America used to celebrate. Looking back, he values memories of shows like David Susskind's "Open End," which was big in the late 1950s and 1960s.

"I turned that show on, and there -- live -- were Vivian Leigh, Noel Coward, Robert Morley, Kenneth Tynan. ... Another week: Dorothy Parker, Norman Mailer and Truman Capote. But now, all of the stars seem to be the same person. You open the magazine and they're all standing there in those dresses, and you say, 'Which one do you like best?' They're all the same person."

Doug Elfman

July 29, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television critic

BEVERLY HILLS, Calif. -- The scene opens on a distraught young boy. You see tears leaking behind his eyeglasses.

"I'm feeling, like, really stressed and really worried. It's just been really stressful and tough. I guess I'm just gonna have to keep pushin'," he says, and he sniffs up runny snot.

In another scene, a different little boy weeps. "What I'm really missing is my brother. Because he is in a wheelchair. And um ..."

He can't continue talking because he's overcome with crying and sadness.

These are the types of tragic interviews we're used to experiencing after some nutcase shoots up a school.

But this is a CBS reality-competition show called "Kid Nation" that I think of as "Survivor: Clearasil." CBS has not given TV critics a full episode, yet. These crying-boy scenes are from a preview trailer promoting the show, which premieres Sept. 19.

The trailer is the most disturbing thing I've ever seen in relation to a prime-time show. The first two times I watched it, my stomach turned. Literally. I thought I was going to vomit. Not metaphorically. And I don't even have kids.

In "Kid Nation," parents of 40 children ages 8 to 15 let producers take their children out of school in March and April to be bused to a privately owned ghost town-turned-movie set called Bonanza City, N.M. For 40 days, the kids ran the town. They cooked, cleaned toilets and operated a root beer saloon.

"No parents, no teachers anywhere," the narrator says in the trailer.

Hundreds of other adults were behind the scenes. In addition to camera operators, there were pediatricians and child psychologists. Yes, "Kid Nation" was so hard on these kids' lives, they needed therapists to get through the show.

Oh, and there was an animal wrangler, partly, maybe, to handle the snake you see slithering around.

What CBS is delivering here is yet another reality show where the images flashed before us are those capturing the worst in people. But this time, it's children. One girl stands in front of the kid-run town council and verbally attacks another kid.

"Even when you didn't have a job, YOU DIDN'T WORK," she says, and her eyes bug out exactly like a judgmental audience member at a Jerry Springer taping.

How did they get away with this? Producers couldn't film "Kid Nation" in most states, because most states have decent child-labor laws. New Mexico didn't. And producers, working with lawyers, officially declared "Kid Nation" to be a "summer camp" instead of a workplace.

CBS Entertainment President Nina Tassler told critics the kids weren't employees of CBS. I asked her if that means none of the kids or their parents have paycheck stubs as a result. She said no. A CBS spokesman then told me each child was paid a $5,000 stipend. Some kids also earned a $20,000 block of gold shaped like a gold star, if they won various challenges.

They were not allowed to phone their moms and dads; they were told they could quit the show if they wanted.

New Mexico has since changed its child-labor laws (not because of "Kid Nation"). But executive producer Tom Forman told the Television Critics Association convention that he's already started the casting process for a second season.

"I plan to find the right location that seems right for the kids and right for the show and investigate the laws at that location," Forman said.

Right. Maybe the sequel can be "Kid Nation: Cambodia."

Wisely, labor laws in California and New York forbid kids who are residents in those states from even appearing in a show like "Kid Nation." Thus, there are no New Yorkers or Californians in it.

Tassler said the show gives these kids a chance to make a "statement." A critic asked, "What kind of statement would an 8-year-old feel like he needed to be making?"

"You know what?" Tassler said. "You would be incredibly surprised. They're incredibly articulate. They have very strong opinions and, in many cases, their own worldviews."

Forman, a father of two, said he forged the show because he was "bored by the genre, bored by the sort of Hollywood reality types that auditioned for every show I did."

The kids were ideal because they didn't know what they were getting into, the way adults do in reality shows, Forman said.

"They tell you what they think. They tell you how they feel. If they are sad, they cry. If they have a crush on someone, they talk about it. If they're jealous or angry, they fight. It's everything that's best about human beings and, at times, worst."

Since TV execs want to air provocative or "sexy" shows, a critic said to Forman, "So you have 40 kids for 40 days and 40 nights. That's not sexy."

Forman replied, "Really?"

He tried to assuage concerns. "I think, almost to a one, the kids would tell you this was the best experience of their lives. I think, almost to a one, the parents agree," he said.

The children leaned on each other when they had emotional difficulty, he said.

If TV critics have reservations, I asked Forman, how will viewers take to "Kid Nation"?

"It seems outrageous" if judged without seeing it, he said. "I lived it for 40 days, and so I know what happened. I talk to these kids constantly now, so I know how they're doing.

"So if I don't seem to share everybody's concerns, it's not that I'm not a parent and not that I don't care. I just -- I have the benefit of a little bit more information. I think we'll get some tune-in based by the 'Oh my gosh, I can't believe they're doing that' factor. And then my hope is people stick around because they are, in fact, compelling stories about amazing characters."

Perhaps he's right. Maybe other critics and I are reacting too sensitively. I will reiterate I have not seen a full episode. But that CBS preview trailer and the show's legal maneuverings don't pass the early smell test.

I would feel better about "Kid Nation" if CBS showed raw footage and final product to five independent child psychology experts in America, let them interview some kids and crew members, and let those experts issue their own findings.

I did find two TV critics who told me they had no problem with the idea of the show. One was a parent. Another was not. "It's entertainment," the non-parent said, and he pointed out that in a way, "Kid Nation" is no different than fictional shows starring child actors.

"You're right," I said. After all, Danny Bonaduce, Dana Plato, Todd Bridges, Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson were allowed to enter show business as children, and look how rich and famous they turned out.

delfman@suntimes.com

By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork

The Sony Playstation 3 has been on the market for half a year, so it's time to see how it's stacking up against the other video game console made for hard-core gamers, the Xbox 360.

Actually, both consoles are lagging in sales behind the new Nintendo Wii, which has captured kids and women gamers.

In May, the Wii ($250) reportedly sold 338,000 units, compared to the Xbox 360 (155,000 consoles; most at $400 each), and the PS 3 (82,000 systems at $600, though summer sales drop the price to $500).

But here's my own bottom line for you the consumer:

The Wii may be the safe choice of a protective parent, and for an amateur or casual gamer who just wants a fun toy to play with. But if you're a serious gamer, I'd recommend the Xbox 360 over the PS 3 by a whisker, because it offers more games, and it's less expensive.

For new games: Xbox 360

Many great titles, such as "Call of Duty 3," are made for both the PS 3 and the Xbox 360. But the PS 3 still hasn't released some multiplatform games that already are on the 360.

And only the 360 will offer the upcoming "Halo 3," which probably will outsell every game this year.

For old games: PS 3

The PS 3 plays every old PS 2 game I've plunked into it. By contrast, I've gotten my 360 to play only one original-Xbox game, "Halo 2."

For visuals and graphics: Tie

I've seen no difference, generally. GameSpot magazine just did a technical comparison of images from "Armored Core 4" and deemed them virtually identical.

PS 3 could take the graphics lead in the next year, as game designers start digging into the PS 3's bigger computer.

For online play: Xbox 360

The fantastic Xbox Live changed my life. But Live's premium Gold service is exorbitant at $50 a year.

You don't pay a penny to play a PS 3 game online. But as of now, there are simply more great Xbox 360 games to play online.

For extras: PS 3

If you already surf cable Internet, you can check the Web on the PS 3. It's not smooth, though. I never use it.

Far more valuable is the PS 3's ability to upload music, photos and videos. I keep my iPod plugged into the Xbox 360.

But I burned hundreds of albums onto DVDs, then put those DVDs into the PS 3, and the Sony system uploaded all that music seamlessly. I now use my PS 3 as a massive, awesome jukebox.

For consumer stability: Tie

The Xbox 360 may freeze during online gaming too often. But it's outselling the PS 3, giving it better market stability at the moment. That's the battle. The winner of the war is a guess, because of each system's movie player.

The 360 plays DVDs, and for $200 more you can add an HD DVD player. Or, you can play regular DVDs and Blu-ray disks on the PS 3. If HD DVD is the next big thing, the 360 benefits. If Blu-ray prevails, the PS 3 gains.

The PS 3 got a boost when Blockbuster just announced it will sell more Blu-ray movies than HD DVDs.

But Sony is restricting the adult-film market from burning movies onto Blu-ray disks, which is reminiscent of when Sony restricted the adult-film market from burning movies to Beta, thereby sealing its obsolete fate against its VHS rival.

July 27, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

BEVERLY HILLS, Calif. -- Women are expected to be so headstrong on TV now. Lucy Liu plays power-hungry Mia in ABC's upcoming show "Cashmere Mafia," where she kisses her boyfriend/work rival in an elevator, then tries to outhustle him for a business account.

"I think," Liu says, "if the audience saw Mia back down and say, 'You know what? I should let him win because he is a man,' I don't know what would happen to me -- if people would throw eggs at me on the street, you know?"

It's great to be a woman on ABC. They're rich, powerful, and they won't let a little thing like a man stand in their way.

ABC viewers are already familiar with the successful heroines of "Grey's Anatomy" (doctors), "Ugly Betty" (glam femmes), "Men in Trees" (novelist), "Desperate Housewives" (wealthy women) and "Brothers & Sisters" (wealthy, powerful women).

Come fall, ABC sends even more women skyrocketing through the glass ceiling in "Private Practice" (rich lawyers), "Samantha Who?" (socialite) and "Women's Murder Club" (crime fighters).

Think of it this way. This fall, ABC will air 12½ hours of dramas and comedies every week. Women will lead the casts for 7½ of those hours -- 63 percent of ABC's primetime fiction.

And when fall gives way to winter, ABC adds "Cashmere Mafia," where Liu and Frances O'Connor star in the story of four female CEO types: a media maven, a cosmetics marketing genius, a Wall Street warrior and one dubbed "the goddess of gracious living."

"Cashmere Mafia" looks like a business version of "Sex and the City" and, wouldn't you know it, it's co-produced by "Sex" creator Darren Star, who says his new drama reflects reality.

"I'm very much living in a world now where ... most of the new Caesars are women," Star says.

This is a weird time for women, though. On the one hand, strong, fictional women are taking over ABC and parts of other networks.

On the other hand, reality shows and TV gossip shows mostly present the worst images of women. "Cashmere" co-star Bonnie Somerville isn't thrilled about that.

"On these reality shows, obviously it makes for better television to see scandal and backstabbing and cheating and lying amongst friends," she says. "I'm tired of that depiction of women.

"My friends aren't like that. My managers are women. I love women. I'm just happy to see a show where women actually love each other and are friends and supporting each other."

The four main characters in "Women's Murder Club" also nurture each other's lives and careers with emotional and tangible support.

There is not, star Angie Harmon says, "the typical, 'Oh, it's women working together. This could get scary.' ... It's not like that at all here. We have a deep respect for each other."

It's hard to underestimate the sea change. James Patterson -- he wrote the novels "Women's Murder Club" is based on -- pinpoints the transformation: "Typically, this would have been called 'The Boys' Club,' and it's the opposite."

Adds "Murder" co-creator Liz Craft, "It's not a situation where we are going to have something great happen, and the women are going to react while the male leads are off being proactive and doing all of the cool stuff."

Male characters will challenge women in these shows, romantically and professionally. Do not expect the often weak men to conquer them. But Liu's character and her friends do struggle. They're human, not superhuman like the heroes and bionic women of NBC.

Sometimes, Liu says, women characters will feel like, "We can have it all. Look at this. I'm in a relationship. I'm working. You know, everything is great!

"And then suddenly, something goes away, and it's because you've sacrificed too much."

But that kind of conflict is integral in TV narrative, rather than destructive. Ultimately, the prize is this: Narrative has turned female -- and female-friendly.

"We feel like there's a perception out there that women tear each other down in the workplace," Craft says. "While that certainly happens, I think that more often, women buoy each other.

"We don't want them to be women trying to be men in a men's world. They are women being themselves."

July 25, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

Drew Carey has been giddy, contemplating life in Bob Barker's shoes.

"All I'm doing is giving away prizes. ... And it's not even my money," Carey said last week amid negotiations to host "The Price Is Right."

"It's like Oprah giving away those cars. She didn't give away those cars," he said. "The car company gave away the cars. Oprah just said, 'You get a car, and you get a car,' and she gets all the credit. That will be me: 'You win a car!' And they'll go, 'Oh, Drew, thank you!'"

The next "Price Is Right" frontman is not your typical pandering game show host. He doesn't even know the name of "the big wheel."

At a press conference last week, a TV critic asked Carey which "Price Is Right" minigame is his favorite. He said he watches only "once in a while," so he was kind of stumped.

"I think 'the wheel spin,' where you have to be closest to the dollar without going over -- that one I like."

Then he started calling it by another name. "One of the things we're having trouble with is I want to change the name of the show to 'The Magic Golden Wheel,' " he said. "You know, 'Price Is Right,' 35 years. Enough."

Barker fans can stop worrying. Carey, 49, is joking, mostly. "That show needs to be treated with a lot of respect," he said.

Barker said Monday he doesn't know Carey's work, but he advised that Carey try not to imitate him. That shouldn't be a problem.

When I screened an episode of "Power of 10," his new nighttime game show that starts Aug. 7, I realized Carey has the potential to become an all-time great game show host. He immediately connects with contestants, he's smart and he's genuinely happy-go-lucky.

I asked Carey why he's so joyous all the time.

"Wouldn't you be happy if you were me?" he said, then laughed like a little boy in an ice cream factory.

CBS courted him. He was psyched about the prospect, even if it means coming out of semiretirement.

"I didn't want to do TV ever for the rest of my life. I was, 'Screw TV.'

"I had all this free time. I had all kinds of money. And people loved me. ... I had all these benefits of TV, but [none] of the work."

There is a political twist to the "Price" hire. Liberal Rosie O'Donnell had been in the running. Carey goes another way. He has been filming documentaries about medical marijuana and eminent domain for the libertarian Reason Foundation's upcoming Web site, he said.

Carey then volunteered that although he doesn't belong to a particular religion, he believes his money is "not my money. It's God's money."

"I am really blessed to have it," he said. "Money is only worth what you perceive it to be worth. If you're even a lower-income guy in the United States, you live better than Solomon. You have a way better backyard than me if you go to Central Park. You have a way cooler TV room than me if you go to Hooters. ... I just happen to have a little extra property that's more private."

And constant mirth. And two new jobs.

July 23, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

BEVERLY HILLS, Calif. -- In the spring, young women (or old girls) sang their hearts out to try to win the CW's "Pussycat Dolls Present: The Search for the Next Doll." And for what? Winner Asia Nitollano never did become a Doll.

She wasn't fired, says CW head Dawn Ostroff; she quit to pursue a solo career. This might explain why Nitollano was a no-show for the Dolls' performance at the big Live Earth concert earlier this month.

Ostroff broke the news at a press conference Friday. She denies this makes "Pussycat Dolls" pointless. She told me Nitollano quit after the finale aired.

The surprise hit show will return to WGN-Channel 9 and other CW stations in the winter, but this time nine finalists will compete to be in a new trio called Girlicious.

Ostroff said Nitollano's decision -- which officially was her choice all along, to join the Dolls or go solo -- doesn't illegitimize CW reality competitions.

That would include "Beauty and the Geek" and some upcoming series that look super silly in preview trailers: "Farmer Wants a Wife" plus "Crowned," where mother-daughter teams live together in a house, with one duo suffering a "de-sashing ceremony" every week.

In other CW news:

• Scott Patterson says he had a contract with CW that if "Gilmore Girls" was not renewed for another season (it wasn't), the network would place him on another CW show (it did). This is kind of an astonishing disclosure to hear from an actor.

So Patterson, who played Luke, will portray the dad character in CW's new fall comedy "Aliens in America" -- replacing Patrick Breen in the role. Breen had already shot the first episode.

Patterson says he's disappointed "Gilmore" never got a bigger audience, and that it was always snubbed by the Emmys. He joked (I think) that the cast sat around and drank a lot near the end to drown their sorrows.

• "America's Next Top Model" has been renewed through at least 2010.

• Chris Rock will finally appear in his own show, "Everybody Hates Chris," as a guidance counselor in the fall's first episode. He has narrated the show from the start, but this is his first visual appearance. There's no word if it'll be a recurring part.

• And Ostroff says she's not worried about parents' reactions to the simulated pot smoking, sex and booze-swilling in the fall debut of "Gossip Girl." In the first episode given to critics, rich prep-school teens dig into all that stuff.

I didn't get worked up over the content when I watched "Gossip Girl." I was less put off by the line "tap that ass" than I was by a mother telling her daughter, "And put some product in your hair, the ends are dry."

delfman@suntimes.com

July 22, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

The naked cop you're looking at wipes whiskey off her Bible, peels dirty boots off her sandy feet, and she wonders: That guy who visited me last night -- that yellow-toothed, tobacco-spitting guy -- he says he's my heavenly angel. Is he for real?

Yes, he is. Earl the angel wants to save the soul of this swilly officer in TNT's "Saving Grace," debuting at 9 p.m. Monday (in the slot formerly occupied by "Heartland," which moves to 7). Since he rescues Grace from a sticky situation, she agrees to his deal, to align with the Almighty, amen.

But you know what? Things aren't so dull with this particular God. Grace gets to keep drinking, smoking, cussing and powering through athletic sex with married people. Angelic Earl doesn't even want her to go to church.

What is this religion, and where do I sign up?

I didn't want to like "Saving Grace." The premise sounds generically proselytizing. But it's not too quirky for quirky's sake. And Holly Hunter's Grace is an extremely interesting woman, fairly unimpressed with God's interest in her, so she remains a head case.

Hunter goes strikingly nude, and she magnifies Grace's gruff flaws with vocal inflections and body movements that don't resemble the usual actory approach.

There's this crazy-good scene where Grace crumples in shock and awe, and Hunter genuinely exhibits how a drunk, naughty, oddball cop might cope with this question: Am I seeing an angel -- or delusions of an angel? And which scenario is worse?

To take her mind off that question, Grace decides to get pounded naked against a wall by her cop buddy, then stops for second thoughts. Her eyes pan, she babbles incoherently, and finally she succumbs to her hellish drunkenness, dank with lust.

"He wants to bring me to my knees?" she says spitefully of God, then proceeds to please her adulterous lover.

What we have here is a show Hunter has produced acceptably well and acted with immense, believable intensity. It's a fairly gritty TV role served with a spoonful of lightheartedness.

This is also the horniest God show on TV. That's the line from this review TNT should use in their ads. When Earl opens his wings, Grace's rapture mimics sexual climax. Grace slinks down and tucks one of Earl's feathers against her breasts.

That's hot, I have to say. The hotness is just a bonus, though. Hunter takes the grace out of Grace and puts grace in "Grace."

What's strange is that this libidinous exhibition is on TNT, which is taking more risks lately with FX-type content and style.

Meanwhile, FX has a new show also starring a movie star -- "Damages," featuring Glenn Close -- where no one gets truly naked or cusses much in Tuesday's commercial-free premiere. This is still FX, right?

Close portrays Patty Hewes, a two-faced, cutthroat, amoral lawyer (also known as "a lawyer"). She hires a fresh-faced young legal eagle named Ellen, supposedly because Ellen is very ambitious, even though she doesn't seem like much of a go-getter.

Anyhow, Ellen (Rose Byrne) is assigned to handle a very high-profile lawsuit against a scumbag CEO type (Ted Danson) who stole millions from his employees.

At first, "Damages" looks like a typical lawyer show where the main players will take on a different case every week. But it becomes apparent quickly this is a serial, like most things on awesome FX, and episode No. 1 is just peeling the first layer of the onion.

The thrust of "Damages" is to dig into these characters and, more importantly, their schemes and reactions to other people's schemes. If I say much more, I'll give away the ending.

The direction is capable. And there are moments of shining in the script, though there aren't yet enough fine scenes, like the stellar reveal where Patty gripes about being a parent, while barely looking up from paperwork.

"Do yourself a favor, Ellen. Don't have kids," Patty hisses. "I read an interview once with a Nobel Prize winner. ... He said, 'Don't have kids. Ruins your ambition. Keeps you from you want in life.' He said to have wives instead. You can leave wives. You can't leave kids."

Close embodies the nastiness of her character. But she's not transcendent in her role the way Hunter is in "Saving Grace," so Hunter wins this week's installment of Movie Stars Sign Up For TV.

And like I said, this is FX -- where's the skin? Ellen engages in a sexless, nakedless love scene -- soft love-making on FX! If you were to watch only "Saving Grace" and "Damages," you'd think FX and TNT swapped positions. I feel a little discombobulated.

delfman@suntimes.com

Jul. 20, 2007

By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork

Raw Danger" looks like a disaster movie/video game about a massive flood destroying a city. But under the hood, it's really a game about the male's silly pursuit of the female of the species. You play as a guy trying to escort a woman to safety. And yes, of course, she's hot.

At one point, you (Joshua) stand with her (Stephanie) in the chilly rain, with water lapping perilously at your feet. But she wants to stop and chat. So you must pick one of four sentences that will inch you closer to becoming her boyfriend. What do you want to tell her?

A) "It looks like we'll be OK." (This will make you a wimp.)

B) "I don't think a helicopter is coming." (This will make you a jerk.)

D) "I can't wait to get out of this place." (Coward.)

No, clearly the right thing to say to this young woman during a deadly disaster is C) "What are you thinking about?" (Answer: herself.)

"Raw Danger" is very nearly a great little game. It's earned no big fanfare from the press, because it's not the next movie-based "Harry Potter" outing or "Transformers: The Game".

But it is that rarest of titles: a fun game -- a dramatic but charmingly goofy action-adventure -- made on a relatively small budget (by the fairly humble Agetec, which is selling "Raw Danger" for just $15).

"Raw Danger" won't blow you away. And it does move slowly at first. You begin as a waiter in a convention hall. You serve drinks. You get on your knees to help a woman in a designer gown find her missing contact lens. Can you say "minutia"?

Then come slow floods into the convention hall. Your initial goals are meager. You drag a ladder down a hall to enter a hole in a wall, so that you may reach Stephanie. She loses her mobile phone in the flood. Your choice of words have an effect on the outcome of the game. Do you say?:

A) "It's not your fault!"

B) "No more phone calls."

Or C) "How could you be so stupid"?

If you want her to end up her boyfriend, I think you know the answer.

As "Raw Danger" progresses, you and Stephanie climb up makeshift ladders and look for clues to get to the top of the building you're stuck in. Everything gets harder and more interesting to figure out. And you eventually play as other characters in tougher spots.

The knock against "Raw Danger" are the visuals. They look less enticing on the PS 2 than some handheld PSP games. People and backgrounds barely look like such. They suffer from low-resolution artistry in an age of high-definition imagery.

But the designers, faced with making their own financial choice, were smart to focus on making the game entertaining instead of good looking.

And it's hard to dislike the kookiness. You see flashbacks of Stephanie's youth, and she's a brunette. In the present day, she's a blonde. It seems this is not an error but a funny bit of long-term character development on a shallow scale.

Then, a TV newscaster reports the flood has injured two people named Jim Beam and Will Nelson. Are you telling me Willie Nelson was cozying up to Jim Beam during a flood? What are the odds?

("Raw Danger" retails for $15 for PS 2 -- Plays fun. Looks weak. Moderately challenging. Rated "T" for blood, language, use of alcohol or tobacco, and violence. Three stars out of four.)

Jul. 13, 2007

By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork

In "The Darkness," your goal is to walk up to mob goons, stick a gun in their mouths, blow holes through their skulls, then rip into their chests and feed their hearts to demon snakes attached to your torso.

That's pretty nasty.

Adding to the gruesome effects are terrific visual details. "Darkness" exists in the style of "ugly-beautiful" games I've talked about before: They're beautiful, because the moving images are fairly close to photorealism; they're ugly for their grimy, gritty settings.

In other "ugly-beautiful" games, like the prison-bound titles "The Suffering" and "The Chronicles of Riddick: Escape from Butcher Bay," you scrounge around disgusting, blood-covered bathrooms that are so sick, you can't imagine.

"The Darkness" is set not in jail but in a very foul New York. You peruse disgusting bathrooms, almost on the level of restrooms in the movie "Trainspotting." Alleys and subways are strewn with trash, and walls everywhere are covered with mediocre graffiti.

The story: You're a 21-year-old who was raised by a mobster "uncle." The uncle disowns you and puts a hit on you. His gangsters try to slay you. Instead, you execute them with relative ease while working your way to the uncle.

So you walk the streets, alleys, buildings and cemeteries of the big city, taking out one dumb thug after another, in this glorified arcade gunner. And, oh, those hooligans are mighty doofuses, no matter how well-dressed they are in Tarantino-type black suits.

Some villains, who have been told to kill you, walk up and say, "Well, well, well," giving you a chance to shoot them first. There you stand, blasting them with two Uzis as demonic snakes wiggle from your rotator cuffs.

I'm a hard-core gamer, therefore the violence doesn't faze me much; we are a calloused lot. But there are some other problems. "The Darkness" can disappoint you quite a bit with lots of slow, boring walking, and orders to shoot streetlights. Yawn.

Having to walk slowly in a game, as opposed to running and gunning, is much worse than an insane amount of murdering. Why? Because sauntering about for minutes on end, without much action, is not super entertaining.

I also had problems playing it online. All the players kept getting stuck in walking positions. The computer servers couldn't seem to handle either the traffic or graphics, at least during my testing period.

Having said that, "The Darkness" (created by "Chronicles"-maker Starbreeze) marks another small, evolutionary step, bringing a more cinematic look and feel to gaming.

Your character, Jackie, resembles and tilts his head like a young Robert De Niro. The main demon master guy, The Darkness, is voiced by rock musician Mike Patton. Jackie's girlfriend is voiced by "Six Feet Under" star Lauren Ambrose.

There's lots of story and dialogue, though it's not very good dialogue. My favorite quote is when Jackie tells his girlfriend what he does for a living: "I kill people for the Franchetti crime family. I meant to tell you." Huh? When did he forget to tell her he's an assassin?

And just wait till he informs her what he does with the corpses.


("The Darkness" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 and PS 3 -- Plays fun when not sporadically boring. Looks great. Moderately challenging. Rated "M" for blood, gore, drug reference, intense violence, strong language and suggestive themes. Three stars out of four.)

Jul. 06, 2007
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork

I wouldn't be the first person to heap praise on the "Harry Potter" movies. This might sound cheesy, but they make me feel at home. I see Hogwarts as a sort of land of magical misfit toys, and I'm kind of a grown-up, nonmagical misfit myself.

Over the years, the "Harry Potter" video games haven't been quite as welcoming or warm. They were either too narrowly focused, like offering a bunch of easy Quidditch matches, or they didn't flesh out the halls of Hogwarts enough.

But here comes the beautiful and fairly expansive "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" to deliver a Hogwarts that players can call home.

Harry, Hermione and Ron interact with each other and other students a lot. The game characters look exactly like the actors, though someone else is voicing Harry and Hermione's dialogue.

And while playing as Harry for most of the game, you walk and run about Hogwarts and its grounds in search of adventures based on the book and summer movie.

I don't think it's enough to just tell you Hogwarts is big. Here is a partial list of campus levels you explore repeatedly: the boathouse, clock tower courtyard, dungeons, entrance hall, first through seventh floors, grand staircase, Gryffindor boys' dorm, Hagrid's hut, herbology, hospital wing, library, Myrtle's bathroom, suspension bridge, Umbridge's office and the viaduct.

The downside is the game's adventure forces you to run back and forth across Hogwarts in search of clues and puzzles.

So, the first time I ran up and down those moving staircases, I was taken aback by the cool grandeur of navigating those playful steps, and I'd stop to chat with the people living in the paintings lining the staircase walls. But the 40th time -- not so much fun.

The game play itself is entertaining and breezy, but it's probably more exciting for a kid or a newcomer to games than to an adult, since there's not as much action gaming here as in typical movie-based games.

Many goals involve using your wand to move things around or to fix broken statues, in order to find missing ghosts and other items. These problem-solving challenges become routine for a hard-core gamer such as myself.

Playing "Phoenix" on the Wii may jazz up your experience a little bit. You swing the Wii wand to make Harry wave his magic wand, to cast spells to move furniture, uncover secrets and engage in battle. This helps the feeling of pretending to be Harry.

I'm not sure "Phoenix" will keep me playing all summer, but there is quite a bit of game here, plus standard minigames, such as the one where you match alike pairs from a deck of cards.

Eventually you can play as Dumbledore and other characters. And as you progress, you unlock bonus videos of cast members talking about the making of the game.

Altogether, it's not quite a great outing. But the colorful people, places and things add up into a sweet distraction in a familiar place.

("Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" retails for $60 for PS 3 and Xbox 360; $50 for the Wii; $40 for the PSP and PS 2; $30 for the DS -- Plays fun when not repetitive. Looks great. Easy to moderately challenging. Rated "E 10+" for fantasy violence. Three stars out of four.)

Jun. 29, 2007

GAME DORK: Pity Party

By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork

A video game can make you yell "yay" and "boo." But a game should never make you scream, "That's no fair!" And "Mario Party 8" makes me do just that.

"Mario Party 8" is a party game. You compete against other players in a series of minigames, where you essentially roll dice to travel along a series of colorful board games.

But time after time, I take the lead and close in on a win, when the game suddenly gives my lagging rivals a magical boost -- a "special bonus" -- to catch up to me.

This sort of inequity drags down the fun in "Mario Party 8" just as similar "artificial intelligence" blemishes better games. (How many times have you seen victory artificially ripped from your clutches in a "Madden" football game?)

Even if "Mario Party 8" weren't unfair, it wouldn't be on par with earlier "Mario Party" titles. The minigames are interesting, such as a haunted hideaway and an island board game. But it takes forever for each player's turn to start.

And a lot of minigames rely on the same old Nintendo tricks. You gather coins. Donkey Kong pads about in the background. Cutesy music plays.

This is all disappointing, since the game updates the "Mario Party" series to the Nintendo Wii. But Wii owners will be better off sticking to the excellent party games "Rayman Raving Rabbids" and "Wii Sports."

There is one other new party game called "Big Brain Academy: Wii Degree." It's infinitely more fair than "Mario Party 8." Inexplicably, though, "Big Brain" also makes players wait too long to take turns.

"Big Brain" is sort of like an entertaining IQ test. A clock times your progress while you solve various challenges having to do with visual trickery, memorization and math quizzes.

The test called "Whack Match" is just like "Whac-A-Mole." The game shows you a series of images, like a purse and a water glass, and you use a mallet to pound those images when they pop up from holes.

Harder minigames ask you to lay train tracks very quickly to get a toy train from one point to another. Or you play three-card Monte, but instead of cards you keep track of birds hiding in covered cages.

"Big Brain" is a fairly fun outing. I just wish it came with unrelated distractions, such as "Sudoku," as does the handheld DS game "Brain Age: Train Your Brain in Minutes a Day!" Then again, I think "Sudoku" should be included in every brain game.

("Big Brain Academy: Wii Degree" retails for $50 for Wii -- Plays like a fairly entertaining school test. Looks OK. Challenging. Rated "E." Three stars out of four.)

("Mario Party 8" retails for $50 for Wii -- Plays average. Looks OK. Easy. Rated "E." Two stars.)

Jun. 22, 2007

By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork

Some ugly people are playing video games online. They sound ugly, anyway. I was playing a shooting game the other day, and several players did the usual trash talking.

"How do you make a Jewish-black guy?" one racist "joked." Another uncreative bigot said, "I'm running like a (racial slur)."

These Klan types are rare but vocal -- hiding faceless, behind "gamertag" nicknames -- and they try to get under players' skins. Not just Jews and blacks, but women, homosexuals, Hispanics, Asians and, yes, whites.

It's one thing for these race-baiters to spew bile. It's almost kind of worse that they're so uncreative. They garble such pronouncements as, "I hate white people," and "What good have Jews ever done?"

Really? That's all ya got, stupidheads?

If I'm feeling charitable, I'll listen to someone defame, say, Jews while realizing he -- it's always a he -- is on my team.

The other day, a dumb guy said something nasty about Jews without knowing I have Jewish heritage. He then used his character's magical powers to resurrect me after I died. What a moron. He doesn't even know he's saving the Jews he hates.

If you don't play games online, this is probably pretty shocking. But to longtime gamers, it's old news.

Fortunately, video games are getting good at letting us mute undesirables. This doesn't quash Free Speech. Dummies can keep talking. But I press a few buttons to quiet them in my home, and they can go on talking to themselves like crazy people all night long.

I have tried playing games online without my ear piece. But for a lot of team-based games, it helps to hear your teammates devise strategy. And in shooters, it helps to listen in stereo to where gunshots are coming from.

Outright racists -- a very small percentage of gamers -- aren't the only noisy players. But other loudmouths can actually be entertaining, either on purpose or accidentally.

There's the Borat gamer ("Very niiiice!"); the whiners ("I shot that guy a million times and he didn't die!"); the constant cursers (mothers and female dogs are referenced a lot); and competitive go-getters ("Let's stay tight. Let's go, let's go!").

A couple of months ago, I listened to two dudes talk about carburetors. It was confusingly fascinating.

All these talky types are always online, and once again they chatted in abundance while I tested "Shadowrun" for the Xbox 360.

"Shadowrun" itself has been unfairly maligned by some critics who don't think it's a great shooter. Purists are disappointed "Shadowrun" isn't the role-playing game it was first for PC gaming.

Whatever. It's very addictive online. You play on teams and race across battlefields that are ornate, fantasy temple grounds, archaeological dig sites and seven other maps. You kill using guns and magic (like summoning a gust of wind).

Oddly, there are but four characters you can portray: a very white man; a tall, tanner elf; a white-ish troll; and a white-ish dwarf. They all need sun. And they are powerful. But I swear they're not into white power.

("Shadowrun" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 -- Plays addictive, online especially. Looks very good. Challenging. Rated "M" for blood, intense violence. Three and one-half stars out of four.)

Jun. 15, 2007

By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork

Whoa. It is a mediocre spring for video games. I just wrapped up a two-day gaming marathon, and the only thing that kept my interest for five straight hours was a handheld puzzle title called "Pogo Island." It came out two months ago.

First in my sights was "Shrek the Third," which isn't so bad but isn't so great. You play as the big green ogre, his donkey and so on. You punch tables to steal their table souls (huh?).

But "Shrek the Third" squanders its sweet-looking adventure land with the repetitive punching and kicking of villains. There's got to be more to a game than jogging, jousting, collecting gold coins and busting up wooden crates that get in your way. (Crates? Really?)

More promising is the nicely drawn comedic-horror tale of "Death, Jr. and the Science Fair of Doom." It's got teen spirit. As Death Jr. (son of Death), you sickle bad people into their graves, while you save pretty school friends from the evil clutch of, um, death.

Like "Shrek," though, "Death, Jr." bogs down in redundant killing. Worse, you also must play as a ghost girl who scouts out terrain for Death Jr. This is interesting at first, but quickly becomes as tedious as Friendster.

Gaming is more fun in "Konami Classics Series: Arcade Hits." I have to give a slow applause clap to "Classic Series" for compiling into one little hand-held game a big bunch of arcade throwbacks from the 1980s, such as "Track and Field," "Time Pilot," "Contra" and "Yie-Ar Kung Fu."

The trouble with "Konami Classics" is the same problem that plagued "Track and Field" and other games back in the day: They were designed to end quickly, in order to make gamers drop handfuls of quarters into arcade consoles. The games are still too short to be Olympic feats.

And so, the game I settled into is "Pogo Island." It's a fun little nothing. You play a handful of different mini brain games.

In one game, you arrange cute little fish by their various colors as they descend from the ceiling; it's like an upside-down "Tetris." In another game, you play a form of solitaire. And my favorite game is "Word Whomp," where you make words from anagrams.

For instance, when you get served the letters, "inocas," you have only a few minutes to figure out they can be chopped up into "sin," "casino," "can," "con," "son," "ion," "sac," "coin," "icon," "scan" and "sonic."

What's weird is the dictionary isn't complete. Facing other anagrams, I wanted to spell "bile" and "lance," but it wouldn't let me. I'm not sure what's going on with "Word Whomp," but it recognizes "bible" yet not "gay" or "sex."

But whatever. It's pleasantly hard enough to be a simple outing for a hard-core gamer such as myself, and it's not too hard for casual gamers who just want to pass time. It's a wee engaging distraction, which evidently is just enough moderate praise to make it the game of the weak.

("Death, Jr. and the Science Fair of Doom" retails for $30 for DS -- Plays somewhat fun but too repetitive. Looks cute. Moderately hard. Rated "E 10+" for animated blood, cartoon violence, crude humor and mild language. Two and one-half stars out of four.)

("Konami Classics Series: Arcade Hits" retails for $30 for DS -- Plays fun, but games are too brief. Looks rudimentary. Moderately hard. Rated "E 10+" for mild violence. Two and one-half stars.)

("Pogo Island" retails for $25 for DS -- Plays addictive. Looks cute. Moderately hard. Rated "E." Three and one-half stars.)

("Shrek the Third" retails for $50 for Xbox 360 and Wii; $40 for PS 2; $40 for PSP; $30 for DS -- Plays somewhat fun but too repetitive. Looks good. Easy. Rated "E 10+" for cartoon violence, crude humor. Two and one-half stars.)

July 19, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

BEVERLY HILLS, Calif. -- "Mad Men" begins in the sleek offices of an Eisenhower-era ad agency on Madison Avenue. Everyone's dressed dapper. Girdled women wear hairspray helmets. At first, you think, "This is going to be another glamorization of the stupid past."

But then, the past un-glamorizes itself.

A boss at the agency needs a Jewish employee to perform a Jewish-related task, but he can't find one. So he asks his ace ad man, Don Draper, "Have we ever hired any Jews?"

"Not on my watch," says Don (Jon Hamm), appearing slightly alarmed at the mention of the J-word.

"Mad Men" is a welcome oddity. It is anti-nostalgia dressed in the style of nostalgia. It looks like "Bewitched," sort of. Or the film "Down With Love." But it smells like the ugly truth about 1960, looking under the gloss and finding heinous behaviors of the era.

But the focus isn't a macro expose of the period. It's straight, if subversive, storytelling of some of the talented, misogynist bigots (and their submissivized women) who sold America through marketing at the turn of the 1960s.

Ad man Pete (Vincent Kartheiser) is such an arrogant WASP, he refers to clients as "retail Jews" and condescends to a new secretary, "It wouldn't be a sin for us to see your legs. If you pulled your waist in a little bit, you might look like a woman."

Pete thinks he's being helpful. The secretary, Peggy (Elisabeth Moss), might half-think he's right. As part of her work orientation, another secretary tells Peggy she should get on birth control pills, so as to avoid work-related pregnancy.

I wouldn't hold it against you if you thought, "I don't want to see this bunch of jerks and victims in a TV show," but I'm telling you, "Mad Men" is a refreshingly unprocessed, intriguing and more honest look at America than TV normally provides. Rest assured, characters will sometimes deal with consequences from cruel flaws.

It's written, directed (by Alan Taylor) and acted about as superbly as it needs to be. It's pitch perfect. It's beautifully shot, and everything seems authentic -- the detailing of offices, clothes, speech and especially the manners and lack of shame of the time.

Creator Matthew Weiner, 42, wrote the first episode seven years ago, in between typing jokes for the traditional sitcom "Becker." He sent the script to "The Sopranos" creator David Chase, who was so impressed he hired Weiner.

Then, fading giant HBO took a pass on "Mad Men" because HBO is really, really dumb lately. Weiner holds no punches.

"I'll be honest with you," Weiner says. "They had the script from the day I started 'The Sopranos,' and they were not interested. They did not respond to it."

Little AMC, on the other hand, wanted to get in the business of screening original, high-quality series and offered Weiner creative freedom and a ton of money for casting, music rights and sets.

What AMC got is what Weiner sold "Mad Men" as -- a realish, unsentimental portrayal of complicated "whole people" who act with the more decent 1960 manners America has lost, while also playing grab-ass and crassly defaming subordinates.

"Mad Men" tonally reminds me of one spectacular sequence in "Natural Born Killers," where Rodney Dangerfield jokes with his character's daughter one moment, then squeezes her incestuously the next.

It's hard for an artistic entity to balance that kind of American duality. "Mad Men" does so in a subtler and more natural way than "Natural Born Killers" did satirically. But likewise, "Mad Men" may fascinate you while repulsing you. "Happy Days" are not here again.

delfman@suntimes.com

July 18, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

BEVERLY HILLS, Calif. -- Isaiah Washington is a dillweed, but now he's a dillweed with a thriving career.

On Tuesday, the cast and crew of NBC's new "Bionic Woman" faced grumbling TV critics who wondered why Washington, he of the word "faggot," has been signed as a five-episode guest star.

"We feel he is the right actor for the role, but also we believe in second chances," said "Bionic" executive producer Jason Smilovic.

"When somebody does something wrong, and you have a systemic problem, the best way to change that problem is not by casting them outside of the system," he said. "It's by allowing them to make amends, allowing them to make reparations and do the right thing."

OK, so to make reparations, maybe he should engage in a gay kiss in "Bionic Woman," a TV critic suggested at the "Bionic" press conference. Smilovic, who holds a degree in a political theory, responded with political blandness.

"I think that would do a lot more than break down the third, fourth and fifth wall of television. We're trying to make a show."

Here's another good question: If it had been a white actor using the n-word -- instead of Washington using that f-word -- would NBC be touting that it had hired that scandalized actor?

"That's a theoretical question I really can't answer," Smilovic said.

All right, then, is it disrespectful to gay people for NBC to hire Washington?

"Absolutely not. We embrace the gay community. We are hoping that they're going to watch the show," Smilovic said. "This is about making a television series ... and we found a great actor to do that."

What a mess. And Smilovic didn't seek out Washington. The actor was thrust on him by NBC's new co-chair of entertainment, Ben Silverman. What's Smilovic going to say? "My boss was wrong to hire a pariah?"

After the press conference, I asked Smilovic if the media's fixation on Washington is distracting him from making the show.

"No," he said. "I get it. It's the snake eating the snake."

Personally, I'm sick of the Washington story. He said some jerky, hateful things, but so have Tom Cruise and Mel Gibson, and those guys rule Hollywood. And to tell the truth, Washington's brief acting in the movie "Out of Sight" is better than any performance Cruise and Gibson ever did.

After his stint as a government man in "Bionic," Washington begins development of his own NBC action show. He wasn't at Tuesday's press conference but told the AP he's "humbled" by the new opportunities.

In the midst of all this is the new "Bionic Woman," Michelle Ryan. She's a British soap star so dedicated to the role that she's getting bruises during three to four hours of daily physical training, including something called "Israeli martial arts."

Ryan, 23, is most interested not in Washington but in her character's mighty might as a half-woman, half-cyborg.

"As a young female actress, I always enjoy strong female actresses like Angelina Jolie in 'Tomb Raider,' " Ryan said. "I want to be like that. I want to be strong. I want to be confident and empowered. I think that's a really great message that 'Bionic Woman' brings out there.

"I mean, she's a woman, so all of these feelings and hormones and emotions will come up. So initially, it's going to be dealing with being bionic and dealing with her abilities, but down the line she's got to have some romance."

Yes, hormones. When she said that, it reminded me of another 1970s hit show I'd be more interested in seeing resurrected, so I asked Smilovic if he could produce "Three's Company" next.

"I think you could make 'Three's Company' today," as long as it came with contemporary changes, he said. He seemed glad to be off the Washington subject.

"Larry was great, with the three buttons opened [on his hairy chest]. Always went out with women named Yvonne and all these great exotic names.

"Jack was always relegated to the cold shower."

Maybe a metaphorical cold shower should be Washington's fate. Or maybe not. Who cares? Can we move on and await next year's movie version of "Wonder Woman" and its island of scantily clad, empowered women?

delfman@suntimes.com

July 17, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

BEVERLY HILLS, Calif. -- Old people can think of Zac Efron as the new John Travolta (circa "Grease"). His character Troy, singing and dancing star of last year's Disney Channel hit "High School Musical," returns in this summer's sequel, "High School Musical 2."

But Efron is only now getting to sing all his vocals. His voice isn't what you always heard in the first movie. Efron has been singing in semiprofessional musicals since he was a kid, so he insisted on singing all of Troy's lines for the sequel, which premieres Aug. 17.

"I really had to fight for it," Efron, 19, says. "It was always sort of an awkward, awkward subject in the first movie, when my voice didn't get used. And to be honest, no one has really come to me and told me why. So it's innately awkward when you have no idea why your voice isn't going to appear on the album."

I ask "Musical" director Kenny Ortega about it. First of all, he says, none of the singers in the sequel has been dubbed, "honest to God."

"The first time around, we shared Zac's [vocals] with another singer because the music was written before we started the film, and before we cast. So not everything was written in Zac's range," Ortega says.

"This time, everything is written in the character of Troy for Zac, and every other character as well. They're all singers," says Ortega, who choreographed "Xanadu," "Dirty Dancing" and "Ferris Bueller's Day Off."

In my interview with Efron, his tone isn't whining but determined. He's thankful to Disney for even giving him the role. "Regardless," Efron says, "it's great to come back and kind of put my foot down. It's paying off."

He's right. All the singers sound quite good vocalizing catchy and well-crafted songs in "High School Musical 2." And I don't even like Disney musicals, usually.

This week, Disney.com is uploading a video of the new song "You Are the Music in Me" from "Musical 2." And a free simulcast of the soundtrack is premiering at Disney.com/DXD.

The sequel follows Troy and Gabriella as soon as school lets out for summer. The plot (which is secondary to the music and dancing) asks: Will Troy be manipulated into abandoning his friends to hang out instead with villainess Sharpay and her rich trappings?

More girls than boys watched the first "Musical." So the sequel includes golf and baseball scenes to try to lure in guy viewers.

That means there are more male singers in "Musical 2," including Lucas Grabeel, 22, and Corbin Bleu, 18. Bleu, who portrays Chad, acted but didn't sing in the first "Musical." In "Musical 2," he and Grabeel sing, dance and play baseball.

Grabeel, who plays Ryan, credits Ortega for hiring backup dancers from Utah, where "Musical 2" was filmed.

"Every one of those kids wanted to be there every day, and wanted to put every single ounce of themselves into it," says Grabeel, 22, a St. Louis native.

"That's something you won't find a lot of times when a dancer grows up in L.A., wears the sideways cap, and only cares about what he looks like and dances. There's no soul in that. That's why there are so many unemployed actors and performers in Los Angeles. There's no soul. There's no life.

"You can do the moves, but can you tell me a story with your dancing?"

July 17, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

BEVERLY HILLS, Calif. -- Donald Trump hasn't been fired after all. NBC says it will bring back "The Apprentice" in mid-season with celebrity contestants.

Trump and NBC want his nemesis, Rosie O'Donnell, to be on the show. But her spokeswoman vowed, ''It will never happen in this lifetime or beyond."

Addressing TV critics Monday, new NBC Entertainment co-chairman Ben Silverman also announced:

• • Jerry Seinfeld will do a one-episode guest role as himself -- but with a twist -- in the season debut of "30 Rock."

• • Silverman brought in Norman ("All in the Family") Lear to help oversee a new comedy-drama about the "battle of the sexes," a series in development. It's set on Wall Street.

• • And even though Silverman plugged the Peabody-winning "Friday Night Lights" as a high-quality show, he said a main reason it got renewed was simple: It's cheap to make.

July 15, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

First, there was that book Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus. Now there are two new Lifetime shows whose themes suggest a rawer breakdown of the male-female dynamic: men are asshats, women are crrraaazy.

In Lifetime's estrogen-titled "Side Order of Life," a female journalist sees hallucinations. That's cuckoo. She also doubts her fiance is a good man simply because he bought her a beautiful ring she loves. That doesn't even make sense.

And in "State of Mind," a therapist considers staying with her loser husband, even after she walks in on him mid-coitus with another woman.

In other words, women are either so bonkers they look for ways to destroy good relationships, or they're so wacky they attach themselves to the wrong men.

Despite this female nutcakery -- or because of it -- the debut episodes of both shows are fairly watchable. There's entertainment in crazy women and their asshats. And the actors do a solid job of portraying women in crisis.

"Side Order of Life" centers around a journalist named Jenny (Marisa Coughlan). She's happy-go-lucky until a friend battling cancer realizes life is short; she convinces Jenny to order life's main dishes, and not settle for life's side dishes.

Well! This is news to Jenny. Who knew you could dine on lobster instead of peas? Who knew you could look for a more perfect man when you're now settling contentedly with a hot guy (Jason Priestley) who bends over backward for you and your friends?

Suddenly, Jenny begins to question everything, a theory I support to grow as a person. But Jenny's self-inflicted turmoil makes her an unhappier woman for now. And the show implies only chaos can make her a capable journalist.

"Side Order of Life" feeds the earned perceptions that Lifetime is a channel for "chicks" -- and that chicks are drawn to romantic fantasy and magical surrealism.

Romantic fantasy: Jenny accidentally calls some random guy, and their conversations sound like the beginning of an emotional affair. Oh, isn't it just serendipitous!?

Magical surrealism: The universe uses photos and fortune cookies to communicate supernatural messages to Jenny regarding life and love. Or maybe she's experiencing a psychotic breakdown?

The show does its best to appeal stereotypically to the husbands of wifely viewers. Jenny has a dream where she's walking down the aisle only in panties and bra. This is a nightmare for her, a dream for dudes.

Jenny, you see, could pass as an older sister of Lindsay Lohan: she's smoking hot, she's nuts and she babbles incoherently for long stretches of time.

Not being a woman, I'm surprised to learn from Lifetime that females are beset by nightmares. Both "Side Order of Life" and "State of Mind" begin with women anguishing nocturnally. Clearly, these girls need softer pillows.

In "State of Mind," Dr. Ann Bellowes (Lili Taylor) dreams anxiously she is not married to her husband. Then she wakes up and stumbles into a room where he's enjoying a lover. For the rest of the show, Dr. Ann toils with emotional fallout.

As in previous roles, Taylor plays the strong and somewhat batty woman in the room who sees through people, X-raying their failings, and informing them of flaws without sparing their feelings.

And like in "Side Order," Taylor's show also conjures a bit of magical surrealism. While Dr. Ann is listening to a patient prattle on, she spots a ghostly vision of herself walking up behind the client and pretending to kill her.

It is true "Side Order of Life" and "State of Mind" are ripe to be mocked for grade-A chickness, but they aren't bad.

Coughlan finds the nice subtle undertones so Jenny seems more real and less cardboard.

And Taylor, being one of Hollywood's underutilized great actresses, makes "State of Mind" interesting just by appearing in it. Taylor's supporting cast is quite good, too.

Yes, Jenny and Dr. Ann are functional loons. But at least they are about to save themselves and shake codependency with men. In an interview once, Taylor weaved a fine rationale for such roles:

"I would rather play someone who's f---ed up and deep than someone who's one-dimensional and invisible. I would rather drive something and be crazy than be forgotten and nothing."

I couldn't have put it any more succinctly, crazy lady.

delfman@suntimes.com

July 14, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

BEVERLY HILLS, Calif. -- HBO figured out how to replace "The Sopranos" -- with an upcoming drama featuring full-on, male and female frontal nudity and more frank sex scenes than you'll see in a Cinemax skin flick.

The show is "Tell Me You Love Me," a serious, character-based show chronicling four couples as they navigate rocky relationships. Its tone and rhythm is similar to playwright Neil LaBute's 1998 movie "Your Friends & Neighbors" -- but less cruel and more explicit.

For several minutes in an episode, the camera just happens to stay on "Tell Me" characters when they pull off their pants, penetrate each other, masturbate themselves and each other, and engage their mouths lovingly or awkwardly.

Cast members say it's more simulation than stimulation -- that it only looks like men are placing their hmm-hmm's in hoo-hah's. But your eyes may believe otherwise. It seems as authentic as, say, many European commercial films. A lot of things in America claim to be groundbreaking when they're not. "Tell Me" is.

The sex-havers are not just in their 20s, 30s and 40s. Jane Alexander -- who once ran the National Endowment for the Arts -- portrays a therapist to the characters; she goes home to share pleasure with her man in coital detail. Alexander is 67.

Anyone who watches the show, debuting Sept. 9, will see that the mostly unsexy sex is indeed integral to the storytelling, and not just tacked on lasciviously. That's what cast members say, and they're right.

"We are not porn stars. We're actors," Michelle Borth told TV critics Thursday. She plays Jaime, a twentysomething chef who uses sex as a crutch to forge intimacy.

"First of all, it's HBO," says Ally Walker. "You pay to have this in your home." Walker plays Katie, who catches her hubby playing with himself.

Secondly, Walker says, the scenes are naturalistic. "We're having, you know, sex where you're trying to get pregnant, which is not hot. [Some characters are] not having sex, which is depressing. [Another character is] having sex to hide [emotionally], because she's in pain. So it's not really there to titillate you," she says. "It's like reality."

Tim DeKay -- his character David masturbates in the first scene -- struggled with accepting his role as a fortysomething in a sexless marriage. "It took me forever to decide whether or not I was gonna do it," says DeKay, who once played the Bizarro Jerry on "Seinfeld."

Everybody in the cast was scared, he says, but they were eventually comforted in working with high-quality HBO. And the good writing drew them in.

Walker says people who might protest have misplaced priorities about the violence of network TV and the nudity of pay TV.

"What's really awful is you can blow someone's head off and there's no problem," Walker says. "You can decapitate people at [7] o'clock when kids can watch, and there's no problem. But FX and HBO -- [people complain] because someone shows a breast."

Show creator Cynthia Mort seems surprised that TV critics -- the first audience to see the series -- are focusing on the sex, which comprise a vibrant minority of episodes. She just wanted to tell the whole truth about her creations, she says.

"These are sex scenes," Mort says, "between two people who are in love in a committed, long-term relationship. It's not marginalized. It's not perverted."

July 11, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

Since Earth is merging into One Giant Company, CBS is showing live feeds of "Big Brother 8" on Showtime, its main cable channel. And, oh, is it a different experience on Showtime.

I haven't seen sex acts on the cable version yet. But Showtime commercials flash scenes from previous seasons to prove bare bottoms and multiperson showers might be on the horizon.

Here's a difference. On the CBS episodes, women are shown in bikinis for cheesecake factor, grabbing their breasts, covered in butter.

But on Showtime, you see contestant Jen in a bikini bottom so small you can make out impressions of nooks and crannies in the fabric. A fellow contestant, "Evil" Dick, said if the wind were to blow on Jen's privates, well ... the Sun-Times won't let me finish that sentence.

"What's she wearing, like a 10-year-old girl's bikini?" Evil Dick said. "If that thing was wedged up any higher, that [animal-female body part reference] would be as big as the [several words my editors won't let me print] between my legs."

Dick is my favorite of the 14 contestants. He's a name-dropping bar worker slimed in tattoos and an eyebrow ring. That's not what makes him great. He's great because he's the most cynical, at 44, so he sees right through the young dummies.

On uncensored Showtime, he said about a femme: "I f--- girls on a regular basis that are way hotter than her." Yeah, Dick's a weasel.

In a twist this season, CBS brought in "enemies" of contestants. Dick arrived to create conflict with his crying daughter Daniele; they hadn't talked in two years. Two others have fought since they were kids. And Dustin and Joe are ex-lovers from Chicago. Joe accused Dustin of giving him gonorrhea, which Dustin denied.

Joe is a mess. In the same breath, he said to his ex: "Dustin, you are honestly someone I could have seen myself spending a long, long time with. There's just one thing you can't get over, and it's your lying! ... You're a bad person who's only out for yourself!"

Why would Joe want to spend his long life with a bad, lying egoist, if that's even true?

It's typical of "Big Brother" that this fame-seeking cast is not just white bread but stereotypical and designed to engage in garden-variety conflict. Most of the women have cried already. And while watching episodes on CBS and Showtime, I noticed:

• The one black contestant, Jameka, did much of the cooking and cleaning. On CBS, she said, "I am not used to being around all these white people."

• To contrast the flamboyantly gay Chicagoans comes the one suburban mommy, Kail, who made an anti-gay comment after grabbing her big book: "I have to bring my Bible."

• And dumb Carol said she didn't find Jen (who cried because she didn't like her official "Big Brother" photo) a person of substance "because of her giant boobs." Meow.

In Jen's defense, she stated, "My body is not my only asset," while she simultaneously poked her bikini bottom at the camera.

The downfall is, as always, there is nothing for these morons to do. They just sit around and chat about nothing if they talk at all.

Even CBS' condensed shows drag with a butter-slathering contest and little else. On Showtime, the excitement early Monday was a situp class and Amber putting on makeup. I've met funnier, cooler people on cruise ships. On cruise ships, people!

Showtime's act is slower and more mind-numbing, like Amber's strategizing: "Carol told me that Jen told her that ..."

But then, other than Dick, the only thing going for "Big Brother 8" is watching the Showtime feed on DVR and fast-forwarding to see if anyone gets naked. Is that crass? Yeah. Fine. I'll take crass over watching dum-dums sit in chairs and stare at air.

July 8, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

I'm sure all your favorite Cubs and White Sox players are just fantastic guys, really. But otherwise, I've heard many stories from entertainment journalists about how the very worst celebrities in America are egotistical athletes.

Some of the nastiest anecdotes passed my way starred Johnny Bench, Mark McGwire and other sporty heroes. My least-favorite interviewee was Charles Barkley. He was such a horror show, I vowed never to revisit his name in print. Typing it now pains me.

So it's absolutely no surprise at all to watch the eight-part ESPN miniseries, "The Bronx Is Burning," and see its cast of baseball legends behaving like out-of-control megalomaniacs.

"The Bronx is Burning" chronicles the 1977 New York Yankees, specifically its three-way clash of titans -- the triple threat of owner George Steinbrenner, slugger Reggie Jackson and manager Billy Martin.

If you've seen the Steinbrenner of "Seinfeld," you'll recognize Oliver Platt's similar portrayal of the big-city screamer. John Turturro resurrects Martin as a folksy drunk with big Spock ears. And Daniel Sunjata plays Jackson as a Narcissus in sunglasses.

During spring training, Jackson explains to a sportswriter why his head's so big.

"I've got problems that other guys just don't have," Jackson boasts. "This team -- it all flows from me. I've got to keep it all going. I'm the straw that stirs the drink."

Jackson's interviewer types up his quotes, and this understandably injures the egos of all the other Yankees, especially team captain Thurman Munson, who comes off as the one main character with a grounded psyche.

But "Bronx" doesn't begin with Jackson. It starts with Steinbrenner vs. Martin. In the first scene, a steaming Steinbrenner wants to fire Martin for attacking Jackson in the dugout.

We then see a flashback to when Steinbrenner gleefully hired Martin two years earlier. Steinbrenner knew Martin was a controlling hothead, but he thought he could tame him, blustering, "He hasn't worked for me yet!"

"Bronx" is a drama. But there is a funny part in the second episode where Steinbrenner and Martin apologize to each other sheepishly for an earlier screaming match. These two are like wife beaters. They essentially say, "I'm gonna beat you!" followed by "Sorry, honey," then rinse and repeat.

The name of the miniseries comes from a Howard Cosell quote. During the 1977 World Series, a fire broke out near Yankee Stadium. Cosell saw the blaze and said on the air, "There it is, ladies and gentlemen, the Bronx is burning."

Consequently, this miniseries is based on Jonathan Mahler's journalistic book, Ladies and Gentlemen, The Bronx Is Burning. Like the book, the TV series focuses on the Yankees plus two other New York events at the time: a mayoral election and a serial murderer.

Occasionally, we see a jerk walking the streets of New York, shooting young couples while they chat in parked cars. This shootist would go on to be called Son of Sam.

As for the election, some scenes sporadically pop up featuring archival footage of Ed Koch, Mario Cuomo and Bella Abzug running for mayor of a city then burning up with labor strikes, crime waves and -- worst of all -- disco.

The reason the election and murders serve as narrative background is to prove how the Yankees cut through all that turmoil to give baseball fans a joyful diversion.

"The Bronx Is Burning" itself, though, is not so joyful, not with all those cantankerous windbags. But if you enjoy inside baseball, it's an interesting dynamic to view, and it's made cohesive by solid efforts from the actors, scriptwriter James D. Solomon and director Jeremiah S. Chechik.

For viewers too young to remember the summer of Sam starring the New York Yankees, "Bronx" is missing only one context. When Jackson references his race defensively, it helps to know racism in 1977 seemed about 1,000 times worse than now. For Jackson to be touchy when someone called him "boy" was quite understandable.

For me to enjoy "Bronx" is saying something. I gave up following sports several years ago. At some point, I realized I was rooting for three or four teams in the whole world, while wasting hours of worry rooting against about 200 other teams I still hate.

So looking back at this Yankees of my young childhood uncovers cobwebbed memories. When was the last time I heard the names Bucky Dent and Bella Abzug? I don't even know. But "Bronx" makes the flashback a fine outing, starring Major League meanies.

delfman@suntimes.com

July 6, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

Listen, it's the slack summertime. I'm trying to find good TV for you to watch this weekend, but it's hard. I could stomach only 10 minutes of MTV's "My Super Sweet 16: The Movie" (1 p.m. Sunday), because I'm not charmed by idiotic 16-year-old girls whose mantra is "OMG!"

And Comedy Central's * debut of "American Body Shop" (9:30 p.m. Sunday) sets up elaborate comedy bits in a fictional auto shop. But I've laughed more at my own ex-mechanic, who rode a bicycle to his shop because he racked up too many DUIs.

So the TV winner this weekend is HBO's "Assume the Position 201." Comedian Robert Wuhl -- who used to play the skeezy sports agent on HBO's "Arli$$" -- presents a fairly funny lecture about history, to a small class of college-age kids.

He spends most of this second-season premiere pondering the question: Is George W. Bush the worst president in history?

Well, that's not exactly his point. His thesis is this isn't the first time we'll survive a doofus executive swept into the white male club.

"Lousy leaders are as American as apple pie," Wuhl, 55, says.

Yes, indeedy. Vice President Aaron Burr shot Alexander Hamilton to death after he opposed Burr's presidential aspirations.

And President Franklin Pierce was a pro-slavery alcoholic who hastened the Civil War and drove over a woman with a horse-drawn carriage. There is a fantastic payoff to the Pierce story I didn't see coming. Along the way, Wuhl spins stories with the sort of spirited and lighthearted comparisons to pop culture that made my history professors engaging.

So, is Bush numero uno in regards to craptacularness? Wuhl doesn't vote on that. But he delivers a correlating message.

"We'll get through it," he says. "I'm an optimist. ... I always look at the bong as half-full."

The second half of "Assume the Position" focuses on the history of non-political pop culture. One quiz: Which of the following "people" were "Real or Not Real"? Chef Boyardee. Little Debbie. Jose Cuervo. And Aunt Jemima.

To add spice (this is HBO after all), four women in tight clothes hold briefcases during that quiz. This comes across not as a dumbing down of history but as an integration of pop culture while lampooning it.

Wuhl keeps saying that what we know of history isn't necessarily true, because the details depend on the storytellers.

And Wuhl himself is such a flawed storyteller. In a New York Times interview last year, he misquoted Tolstoy's bottom line about history.

"Tolstoy said, 'History is a wonderful thing, if only it were true,' " Wuhl told the Times.

What Tolstoy really said was, "History would be a wonderful thing -- if it were only true."

But what do I know? I was a just history minor at Louisiana State University, where bumper stickers proclaimed LSU "the Harvard of the South," because everyone knows LSU is the Harvard of the South.

And speaking with all my South Harvard wisdom, I say the worst president of all time can't be Bush, because the bottom spot is firmly held by Ronald Wilson Reagan. Each of his names contains six letters: 666. Class dismissed.

July 1, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

You can't swing a smart fifth-grader without hitting a stupid person on TV. A lot of reality shows, commercials and sitcoms wouldn't even exist if it weren't for the simpleton lives of the Paris Hilton and other celebridopes.

The TV star who bastardizes the English language the most is George W. Bush. But at least he can mangle a complete sentence.

On "The Simple Life," Paris rarely even thinks of a word to say. She just stands there! That show should be called "See Paris Grin! Grin, Paris, Grin!"

You can quibble about which real or fictional TV character is the most moronic. But to get the ball rolling on this long ignored subject, here's my list of the dumbest people on TV.

These are current stars. That's why Barney Fife and the entire cast of "Jackass" didn't make the cut. And I've decided to be generous and not pick on the dolts at Fox News, CNN and other newscasts.

1. Flavor Flav
He's turned VH1 into the Flavor Flav channel, starring in "Flavor of Love" and inspiring other reality shows. That Viking-horn hat he wears is the village idiot's crown. By the way, he's already sired six kids. His goal is to father 10 children. If I may quote my fantasy girlfriend Liz Phair, "All these babies are born / to the wrong kind of people." The wrong kind: imbeciles.

2. The Olly Girls
The blond dumbshells Molly and Holly on E!'s "Sunset Tan." In a TV interview recently, almost the only thing either said, other than giggling constantly, was Molly's quote: "We're like, 'Hey, you want to feel our stag? Pinch and roll! Pinch and roll!' They're like, 'Oh my God, these girls are crazy!' We're like, 'Doo-do-doo.' " I have no idea what offshoot of English this even is.

3. Lauren and Heidi
The nitwits of MTV's "The Hills." Lauren's so stupid she doesn't seem to grasp her boyfriend is cheating on her, even though he's cheating on her on national TV. And here's Heidi chirping about her dating theory: "In preschool is how you're gonna be the rest of your life. Because in preschool, I was like, 'I love you, I love you, I love you,' and I used to have a new boyfriend every five minutes in preschool. Yeah, and I used to make guys fight over me. So I'm gonna start doing that again! It worked then!"

4. Paula Abdul
The "American Idol" judge might be harboring some cognitive development we don't know about, but at this point she makes zero sense about half the time. This is why Simon Cowell is always rolling his eyes while mocking her. Paula claims she has never consumed alcohol in her life. Good thing. Could booze possibly make her dumber?

5. Ralph Wiggum
Ralph's an elementary school student, so maybe it's unfair to expect him to exercise an adult intellect. But what can come of a boy who says, "My cat's breath smells like cat food" and "Slow down, Bart! My legs don't know how to be as long as yours"?

6. The Comcast tiger dude

There's a guy in a commercial who (a) doesn't understand his tiger-stripe tattoos are permanent, and (b) thinks they can be removed simply by changing his phone service provider. Yet he appears to live in a nice house. Who gave this dillweed a job?

7. Paris Hilton
Why elaborate?

8. Susan
Teri Hatcher's character on "Desperate Housewives" isn't just oafish. She's a dunce of magnificent magnitude. Theoretically, any woman can accidentally lock herself out of her own house while fully nude and get stuck in a bush, I suppose. However, Susan did so with addle-brained gusto.

9. Pat O'Brien
He isn't a dope just because he got caught up in a drug-and-sex scandal, supposedly leaving naughty, uncreative phone messages for a female co-worker. He's mostly dumb because, well, listen to him on "The Insider." Lobotomy patients around the world must rejoice that someone like O'Brien (who hasn't even had a lobotomy!) has climbed the fame mountain, celebrating celebrity birthdays with a big, cheesy smile.

10. Randy
Earl's brother (Ethan Suplee) on "My Name Is Earl" once built a tree house -- as an adult -- and posted a wrongly spelled sign reading, "No Girls Allowed," while saying, "I pooped my pants" to a TV crew. It's a tough contest to win, but Randy is the chief moron on "Earl."

THE NEXT 10
11. Ty Pennington (at right) of "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" (but he's succeeded despite living with ADHD, so congrats, Ty)

12. Kendra from E!'s "The Girls Next Door" ("I need to get naked real quick!")

13. Mike "Probie" (Mike Lombardi) on "Rescue Me" (severely learning-disabled and lacks very basic communication skills)

14. Anyone on ABC's "October Road" (a hit show, I think, because people watch slack-jawed at its stupidity)

15. Kenneth the NBC page (Jack McBrayer) on "30 Rock" (once knitted a wool bikini for his grandmother)

16. Shaquille O'Neal of ABC's "Shaq's Big Challenge" (please don't beat me up for listing you, Shaq; personally I think you're fantastic)

17. Butters on "South Park" (sadly, he's also parentally abused and picked on by friends)

18. Barney of "The Simpsons" (he was Harvard smart until alcohol destroyed his brain)

19. David Hasselhoff (at right) of "America's Got Talent" (hmmm, apparently alcohol is becoming a theme in this list)

20. The briefcase models for "Deal or No Deal" (or maybe they're brilliant)

HONORABLE MENTIONS
Tracy Jordan (Tracy Morgan) of "30 Rock"
Whoever the president is on any given season of "24"
Kate (Evangeline Lilly) on "Lost"
Izzie (Katherine Heigl) on "Grey's Anatomy"
Homer Simpson
Chris on "Family Guy"
Kelly (Mindy Kaling) on "The Office"
Drama (Kevin Dillon) on "Entourage"
Rachael Ray
Carson Daly

June 27, 2007
DOUG ELFMAN

I don't want to tell you how to watch a TV show. But think of Paula Abdul's new reality show "Hey Paula" as an expose about a woman who worked very hard for fame and fortune, then turned into a spoiled ass.

It's remarkable the "American Idol" judge, choreographer and faded pop singer let Bravo film her daily life. But celebreality shows are Trojan horses. They may seem like vanity projects to stars (Anna Nicole Smith, etc.). Usually, though, they're faux-documentaries of nastiness set to uptempo music.

Here's a scene. Abdul gets angry in her stretch limo, en route to the airport, because she's sitting in her $12,500 dress, and she wants her sweatpants. But instead, her assistants only brought a regular outfit for poor little Paula to change into.

"It's so important that I have something comfortable to wear on a flight," Abdul says. "So every time I fly, I specifically ask my assistants to bring a nice pair of sweatpants." Then she jokes to her lowly peon that she wants to take an outfit and "shove it down your throat."

Yes, Abdul is pretty and smiles a lot, and this is a type of humor, but she seems like an ingrate. And when was the last time your annoyed boss threatened to stuff a coat down your throat? If it was today, you might do well to look for new work.

Abdul's routines of privilege aren't surprising, but her exasperated expectations of entitlement are. She's not sure she'll make that flight, because she needs her ID and -- she grumbles with rash irritation -- "I don't know where they put it."

I ask you, readers, do you know where your driver's license is? Or do you have aides who carry it around?

Her huge ego gets constant strokes. While she walks down the street in that $12,500 dress, a guy screams out that she's a "legend." When business associates crinkle one of her plans, her stylist pampers her, "I think it's your good looks. They're jealous."

Abdul, 45, is no O.J. Simpson, but I can't help but think back to when he was acquitted and flew to Florida to golf, and gawkers merrily asked him for his autograph. What I'm saying to Paula is, don't take flattery too personally. Even O.J. has fans.

And I'm not even a Paula Abdul hater. I enjoyed her "American Idol" wackiness way, way more before I watched "Hey Paula."

The show itself is interesting only from the viewpoint that it's akin to a "60 Minutes" piece examining her lifestyle. Otherwise, quite a few down moments simply follow the aides chatting boringly about, say, packing for her flight.

According to previews for the rest of the season, she will complain, "My romantic life is a horror movie." No, really? For whom?

June 24, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

Brian Williams tries to explain to me why the news industry has run the same redundant story for the past few months -- that actor Fred Thompson still hadn't announced his presidential campaign.

"Look at what makes our culture go: the moving image," Williams says during a recent Chicago visit. "So when someone from 'Law & Order' might run for president, I think it adds fascination."

"He's not very attractive, though," I say about Thompson.

"I think that's a value judgment you're making, and I think you should go to anger management," Williams says.

There's Brian Williams in a nutshell. Like Peter Jennings and Tom Brokaw before him, he'll respond playfully if someone tries to goad him into revealing feelings. But the "NBC Nightly News" anchor won't squander his objectivity.

With all his name and face recognition, Williams could also run for office. But he has no interest, he says fairly forcefully.

"After seeing what I've seen of politics? No, thank you. No! I can be much happier and effect much more change by covering them," he says.

"Apparently," I tempt him, "if you're a star on NBC, you can run for president."

"Only in the entertainment division," he says.

You wouldn't think Williams is fair and balanced if you read bloggers of all stripes. On the left, they've assailed him for -- among other things -- once lauding Rush Limbaugh.

"The Rush Limbaugh quote -- I was just saying, of course people should listen. I listen all the time," he says.

"A New York radio station took the audio of that answer ... and cut a promo so you hear my voice saying, 'I like Rush,' followed by the music of Rush the band. So really, you can't say a thing. That's the lesson today."

I ask him if he thinks Fox News is a news channel or an opinion station. Williams spins a reply a political writer would be proud of:

"It's in the eye of the beholder. The great thing about choice in America today, in news media, is there's plenty for everybody. We all get to run our news divisions as we see fit, and the audience votes with the most powerful tool in modern history: the remote control."

I ask if he'd answer the same way about CNN. He hems the high road.

"I watch them both," he says. "I'm a news consumer. I just think people are smart enough to know exactly what they're getting."

Interestingly, he speaks most flatteringly about Comedy Central's "The Daily Show With Jon Stewart." "It's as well-produced as anything on this newscast" at NBC, he says.

I ask Williams why network news can't borrow ideas from "The Daily Show," like when Stewart screens video showing inconsistencies spoken by politicians over long periods of time. He says NBC already does this.

"We do analysis pieces that show President Bush quotes over six years, and [they have] either incredible consistency or what some would call an inconsistency."

But he says there is a "separation of powers" between network news and "The Daily Show."

"I have to exist as Jon's raw material every day," Williams says. "In the post-9/11 world, it's been really serious business, so it's hard to be shecky. It's hard to be Jon Stewart in the same half-hour as 'Eight Americans Killed.' "

From the outside looking in, it also seems tough being Brian Williams. He doesn't characterize his hectic job as anything but a "dream." But, in addition to anchoring, he cuts pieces for the NBC Web site. And he writes a daily blog.

I ask him if he's actually writing his blog, unlike Katie Couric, who has had producers pen large parts of hers.

"I am writing my own blog, and I write every word, and no one has ever written a word for me," he says.

For all his toiling, NBC has stayed on top in the ratings, though lately it's been falling behind "World News With Charles Gibson." Last week, ABC's Gibson averaged 7.5 million viwers' to Williams' 7.1 million.

So after just two years of anchoring "NBC News," he is the de jure dean of network news.

"Can you believe that? A 48-year-old dean? Wouldn't be allowed at any college," Williams says.

His career interferes with what other people would call a "life." Williams says he loves to read fiction, but he didn't buy a novel for two decades. Some weeks ago, he finally picked up Falling Man: A Novel, a fictional account of 9/11.

"My first novel since 1988," he says, looking relieved, not proud, and he shows me the book as proof.

On weekends, he tries to "hunker down" with his wife and two kids, and maybe watch a DVD in between giving commencement addresses or tackling other duties.

"Every day, I hit 'dump' on my hard drive, and I can't tell you anything about last night's broadcast," he says.

He swears this is an enjoyable existence. "If that went away, I might atrophy and die," he says and then paraphrases a Woody Allen quote to define his true nature: "I'm like a shark. I gotta keep moving."

delfman@suntimes.com

June 18, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

So you're locked up in your home this summer, and somehow all you care about is TV. Your problem is there's nothing on but reruns. What's a TV-aholic to do?

Well, for starters, you can watch reruns of good shows you never watched. I know most of you haven't seen many of these shows, because their ratings suck.

So since I'm a TV enabler, I've put together my Summer Viewing List of Retreads and Rejects.

Just remember: Bad ratings don't mean a show stinks. They just mean you aren't watching.

MONDAYS: "Everybody Hates Chris" (7 p.m., WGN-Channel 9): Even though Chris Rock tells four-letter-word jokes as a comedian, his "Chris" comedy is the best family show on TV. When "Chris" is a good episode, it's very funny. When it's a bad episode, it's not funny but it's still a fine tale of good-hearted family members doing the right things.

TUESDAYS: "The Gilmore Girls" (7 p.m., WGN-Channel 9): If you're an intellectual who bemoans the dearth of smart characters on TV, this is a show for you. Everyone talks really super fast. Everyone's pretty smart, but unlike "Frasier," this show doesn't make the Thinking Class look like wimpy losers. "Gilmore" has been canceled, so summer reruns are your last chance to catch it on primetime network.

"Veronica Mars" (8 p.m., WGN-Channel 9): This season wasn't "Veronica's" best outing, yet it was still excellent half the time. A Village Voice writer once pegged it correctly as "Chinatown" meets "Heathers." A collegiate detective takes on cases in a neo-noir thriller.

WEDNESDAYS: "South Park" (9 p.m., Comedy Central): You haven't given this show a thought since about 1999, but it's still on, and it remains one of the funniest, most creatively successfully satires around. The quality is high, and so is Towelie.

THURSDAYS: "My Name Is Earl," "30 Rock" and "The Office" (7-9 p.m., WMAQ-Channel 5): The comedies don't mesh well thematically, but this is NBC's funniest lineup in a long time. "30 Rock" is the best show on TV right now. "Earl" had a sporadically funny season. And "The Office" is the future of TV comedy.

"Supernatural" (8 p.m., WGN-Channel 9): This is a fairly well-done horror show about two brothers who go ghost-hunting and such. The storytelling is always decent.

FRIDAYS: "Law & Order: Criminal Intent" and "Law & Order" (8-10 p.m., WMAQ-Channel 5): Each of these shows has seen better seasons. Even so, if you're into straight-up capers like I am, they deliver the goods consistently. If you want to fill out your night, you can start with the 7 p.m. "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" reruns on USA network. And TNT is owned by weeknight reruns of "Law & Order."

SUNDAYS: The whole Fox lineup: "The Simpsons" (7 p.m.) was dependable this season, if not fantastic. "The Loop" (6:30, 7:30 and 8:30 p.m.) is a new season of TV's most overlooked comedy, a brilliant take on Chicago nimrods making fun of each other. And "Family Guy" (8 p.m.) made me laugh more than any other show this year.

delfman@suntimes.com

June 13, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

HBO is great, bla bla bla. That's what everybody still says, even though HBO shows aren't great anymore (except for "Curb Your Enthusiasm" and "Da Ali G Show"-- if they ever return). And now "The Sopranos" is gone.

No, the real HBO (or what it used to be) is FX.

Many of you readers don't even know what FX is. Well, I'm here to tell you it is on the cheap end of cable (channel 24 for me). And FX is the best network on all of TV. Better than NBC, ABC, Fox, CBS, HBO, Showtime and the rest.

FX screens only a handful of original series, none of them bad. There's "Nip/Tuck" (the sex-obsessed doctor show); "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" (a very funny, crass comedy); "Dirt" (a Courteney Cox tabloid drama).

And the best of the FX bunch is "Rescue Me," which starts a fourth season tonight. Based on the first three new episodes, I can continue to put "Rescue Me" on my list as one of the best 20 shows that have ever been on TV.

If you've never seen "Rescue Me" before, don't sweat it. The writing, directing and acting are so crisp and moment-by-moment specific, you can watch tonight's episode, get sucked in and never feel confused. I think.

The show -- about friendly, funny firefighters and their lovers -- begins with my favorite episode yet. Tommy (Denis Leary) is being investigated for arson because his angry girlfriend drugged him and set their beach house on fire.

He's also upset with his 18-year-old daughter because she has ditched her lesbian phase ("girls are crazy," she explains), and now she's sleeping with -- oh no! -- a guy.

"Let me tell you something," Tommy sputters while grasping for life to make sense, as always. "Girls might be crazy, but girls are crazy ALL THE TIME. They're DEPENDABLE."

Then the daughter throws up, and Tommy's younger daughter walks in, detects the odor of vomit, and -- since Tommy's a recovering alcoholic -- she says, "It smells like Christmas out here!"

I copied many other funny lines in my notes, but I don't want to keep spoiling the whole thing, except for a line in the third episode when a female firefighter explains how she carried a tall man out of a fire:

"You know, with the adrenaline pumping and everything, I could've carried out Jennifer Hudson. Holding her Oscar. And a sandwich."

"Rescue Me" is really tactless like that. But it's so good. For most of the first episode, I laugh and laugh. Then suddenly, a fire breaks out and the whole main cast becomes amazingly in danger of dying, and it is intense.

In typical "Rescue Me" style, co-creator Peter Tolan's direction switches from perfect comedy to perfect drama, capped by moments of pretty cinematography. (The shot of the blaze with the cat ears in silhouette? Gorgeous.)

Tolan and Leary co-write much of the show. I have no idea why they haven't won an Emmy or a Golden Globe by now. Oh, right, awards shows are stupid.

Tolan and Leary consistently test their characters with realistic storylines (dying parents, new babies, fires, adultery) but infuse them with offbeat situations (a firefighter tapping a nun, etc.). And the unvarnished characters engage in the most fascinating and comical conversations.

What I'm saying is you might just love this show if you try it. You might also conclude it is better than everything on HBO, ABC and CBS. It would take you one hour to find out.

June 11, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

And they lived miserably ever after.

HBO's signature show concluded Sunday night with a big, fat "happy" ending for mob boss Tony Soprano, his New Jersey thugs and his suicidal, druggie, violent and slothful family.

There was (spoilers ahead!) one last scene with Tony in his large white robe.

There was one last gruesome murder. Phil Leotardo: shot in the brain, then his head run over by his own SUV. With that New York rival out of the way, Tony's life seemed to be spared from Phil's war on him.

In the final scene, Tony sat down with long-suffering, complicit wife Carmela and weirdo son A.J. in a greasy diner. Tony played Journey's "Don't Stop Believin' " in a jukebox. Just as daughter Meadow opened the door, the last words heard were Steve Perry's lyrics, "Don't stop."

The screen went black. Credits rolled in silence.

Some viewers will surely be unsatisfied. Before Sunday, many had said they wanted killer Tony to end up dead or in jail. Others thought it would be realistic if he had become a rat fink in witness protection.

But it was open-ended. In the cafe, guys hung around looking like assassins or feds. And Tony got word of big odds he soon would be indicted.

There were crystal-ball moments. Consigliere Silvio was last seen on life support. Tony spoke to Uncle Junior, apparently out of his mind in the mental ward. And a cat Paulie feared superstitiously began staring at him -- an omen of his fate?

Fans will buzz all day about the finale. If you're not a fan, feel free to argue if they try to bully you into thinking it was the best show of all time. It was not. The best show of all time is ... whatever you think it is. Such is the beauty of thinking for yourself.

But it may have had a shot at being the best if creator David Chase had written and directed every episode. He handled Sunday's see-ya, an adios that didn't waste a single shot. And it is true the series reinvented American cinema's gangster tale.

"The Sopranos" took a harsher view of gangsters than have "Godfathers" and "Goodfellas" films, with their glorified murderers, sexy actors and coke-rock music montages. Over the years, "The Sopranos" was variously interesting, cool, dark, tedious and dull.

Almost everyone was fat or ate as if at troughs, tacky wives obsessed over status and new SUVs (A.J. the dolt accidentally blew up his Sunday) and foreboding music usually served only to punctuate final credits.

Characters were usually amoral. Although on Sunday, A.J. and Meadow opined about how America is a real mess. And she said she wouldn't have pursued a law career "if you hadn't been dragged away so many times by the FBI."

Sunday's suspenseful ender caps a filler season. Chase had planned to end "The Sopranos" some time ago, but HBO convinced him to elongate the current season, which mostly fell flat from lax storytelling.

Now, Chase will field calls for a feature film. My suggestion for a title: "The Sopranos Eat Macaroni and Kill More People."

delfman@suntimes.com

June 10, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN | TELEVISION CRITIC

A few months ago, I started asking readers how you'd like the long-running mob series "The Sopranos" to end forever, when it takes its final bow at 8 tonight on HBO.

That was, of course, after I'd suggested my own ending:

With the feds hounding him and his New Jersey families threatened by New York mobsters -- and with the constant fear that someone close to Tony will turn against him -- in the last 30 minutes, I would have Tony prevail over all hazards. But in the last 10 minutes, I'd send Tony to the strip club, where his crew continues to grouse and cause him low-level misery. Then, he'd go home and have to listen to the same old complaints from his family. A final song would take over the soundtrack. I'd use Peggy Lee's "Is That All There Is?" or hire someone like Leonard Cohen or David Bowie to sing a slow and depressing version of "My Way."
I was inundated with responses. Here are some of the best.

Tony's wife pushes him down the stairs during a violent fight over his cheating on her. Tony breaks his neck and ends up a quadriplegic paralyzed from the eyes down, also known as locked-in syndrome. He spends the rest of his life in a fancy nursing home. The guy is scum! If I could think of a worst fate for him I would!

Michael


Tony cooperates with the Feds with their ongoing terrorist investigation, thus putting him in the witness protection program. He is then spared from the ongoing mob wars with Phil Leotardo and his crew of thugs, who have been busy killing off all of the other series regulars. Tony is then relocated to the suburbs of San Diego, where he lives under the name Todd Wilkinson. This ultimately whacks two birds with one stone: a "My Blue Heaven" sequel, and the continued saga of Tony Soprano.

Jon


Old gangsters don't fade away or go into witness protection. They get killed. If they really want to end the show -- and the death of Christopher tells me we won't ever see another new show -- then Tony needs to die.

Steven


I'm so sick of hearing about the end of "The Sopranos!" I hope everybody -- and I mean everybody -- dies in the final episode. Hopefully this will prevent HBO from ever resurrecting its most profitable and least imaginative show.

Steve


I feel the ideal ending would be that a hit would be [attempted] on Tony, but they would miss and kill Carm and the kids by accident. Tony would see that, and the last scene would be the camera slowly focusing on Tony in a straitjacket in a mental ward staring into space with his doctor staring at him, wondering if there is anything that she could do. Killing his kids would push him further than he would be able to handle.

Harvey


The show has always shown main characters being murdered on screen, with the exception of Adriana. That is because in the last episode, they will show a flashback to her death scene, but instead of Silvio shooting her as she crawls away as we were led to believe, he shoots at the ground next to her, then explains to her there is no going back, as he has been the main government mole in the organization all along.

John


Tony Soprano is a rat. Yes, a rat. ... This ending would provide an unexpected twist to satisfy longtime fans, stay true to the core of Tony's character -- ultimately looking out for himself -- and leave the story open for a possible movie version. With Tony in the witness protection program, he would ultimately become the boring, nondescript person he imagined while in his recent coma. Also, Carmela would refuse to go with him into this life, leading to their divorce. His children would also desert him to lead their own lives. Therefore, Tony would find himself alone, without his family, knowing he betrayed his friends, and forced to live his life without the excitement, excess and power that once defined him. A sad, lonely ending for a sad, lonely man. The final shot should be Tony, alone, sleeping and snoring on a recliner in a suburban home, with a bowl of half-eaten ice cream sitting on his chest.

Jim


Tony lies in a hospital bed in a state of semi-consciousness, surrounded by his family. ... Tony looks around his bed for a few moments and begins to rant his story of their life as a mob family: rackets, hits, collections, etc. The family looks around at each other, smiling weakly and raising their eyebrows knowingly, sympathetically. As Tony continues his tales of power and wealth, Carmela cautiously interrupts him, and tells him he's been in a coma for several weeks as the result of a blow to the head from a fall from the back of a garbage truck. "What would I be doing on the BACK OF A GARBAGE TRUCK?" he asks. "That's where YOU WORK, Tony." ... Fast forward a few months. Tony's back at work, on the back of a waste management truck."

Al


What if there were to be a terrorist attack on the last episode? After all, the FBI has been warning Tony about it for a while, and it keeps being mentioned in subtle ways in each episode. A very different, and very real, direction [series creator David] Chase might take, no?

Margaret


I am one disgruntled viewer with a serious ax to grind with David Chase over such a crappy story line after seven years. So far, the last episodes fail to impress. ... After seven years, David Chase gives us a steady pumping of deus ex machina to bolster lame scripts. He's selling out to those of his viewers who want bad deeds to be punished. It's like the Legion of Decency dictated the story line. ... For seven years, bad has been good, and now bad will once again be bad. I won't buy it.

Jim


That whole show went down the tubes. ... All through the seasons, I could never accept that this so-called powerful man sees a psychiatrist. Ridiculous! Last season was so bad, when you got half through the episode and found out Tony was dreaming -- oh my God, people hated it! You know what? They're getting out just in time. How do I think it should end? Quick!

Joyce

June 10, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN | TELEVISION CRITIC

With "The Sopranos" ending forever tonight, HBO is rolling out new shows, the first being "John From Cincinnati." I imagine its scattered, semi-mysterious storytelling will confuse a fair amount of viewers, but it shouldn't.

It's simple, really. Some angel guy named John (or maybe he's a prophet, or an emissary from God, or even Jesus resurrected) starts hanging 10 with a family of very grumpy surfers.

Miracles begin once John shows up. The grandfather looks at his own feet and sees he's levitating.

Meanwhile, angelic John goes around saying, "The end is near," and parroting things people say. If a guy says to John, "I got my eye on you," John confidently yet naively responds, "I got my eye on you!" He's learning the language and he's a simple power, like in "Being There."

This I want to know: Why would God send an uncommunicative, man-child-angel to prophesize the End of Days?

But whatever. Most of the story actually revolves around the family's teen surfing phenom Shawn and one question the adults ponder for an endless summer: Should he be allowed to surf? It's so dangerous!

I've seen the first three episodes of "John From Cincinnati," and I've got a conundrum.

On the one hand, I don't want to watch it ever again to find out what John's big prophecy will be. Mostly because listening to the rambling dialogue gives me the same pleasure as sorting through the tangle of cords behind my stereo.

The show creator is David Milch; he made "Deadwood." Just like in "Deadwood," everyone in "John" is always spewing anger at someone else. The show sorta sounds as if I'm listening to a multisyllabic, multiple personality argue with himself, off his meds.

On the other hand, objectively speaking, "John From Cincinnati" is extremely disciplined character-wise. For instance, John acts consistently, plainly angelic.

And it's a rare TV intellect, a highfalutin meditation on what happens when an angel-type guy gets inserted into a family of angry surfers.

So. Should I give "John From Cincinnati" one star for failing to hold my interest? Or three and a half stars, for being a well-crafted, unemotional theater of ideas?

I'm going with one star. My time is valuable. And "John" doesn't do what such a metaphysical exercise should: It doesn't challenge my own notions of faith, humanity or art. (But if you give it a whirl and enjoy it, I can see what you like about it.)

Milch has said he didn't audition actors, suggesting he just picked them. He's got a good eye. Stellar are (in lead roles) Rebecca De Mornay, Austin Nichols and Brian Van Holt, and (in side roles) the great Luis Guzman, Willie Garson and Keala Kennelly.

If you're into current-day Bible stories where everyone curses up a storm, it may be your thing. There's the angel, of course. But other biblical archetypes check in -- believers, merchants, thieves and prostitutes (though the prostitutes are metaphorical, such as TV newscasters).

There's a part in the debut episode where a huge mural is seen on the side of a building. It's a mural of Jesus on the cross, on a beach, surrounded by surfers. Written on the sign is a Corinthians quote: "For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God."

How's that for getting hammered over the head by a faith-based show?

Corinthians or not, what "John" did was give me the itch to watch "Oh, God!" again, the 1977 classic movie where God (George Burns) said: "How can I permit the suffering? I don't permit the suffering. You do -- free will. All the choices are yours. You can love each other, cherish and nurture each other, or you can kill each other."

But "John From Cincinnati" permits the surfing. Dude.

According to me, the moral of the story is: Picking your religion is like picking your TV shows -- it's all choice. I will also acknowledge I have my ideas about religion, and Milch has his, and his angel is a lot more potentially damning than mine.

delfman@suntimes.com

By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork

When I'm playing "The New York Times Crosswords" on Nintendo DS, I get the impression I am stupid.

"Crosswords" is really cool/dorky. I use a stylus pen to fill in some words, but the puzzles have more stumpers than a razed forest.

If you're unaware, The New York Times prints mind-boggling crosswords. The clues are both vague and ambiguous, if that's possible. Likewise, the DS game makes my head feel like a brain-leaking sieve.

A clue for one of the 1,000 puzzles in the game is "old-fashioned"; the answer to that riddle is "horseandbuggy." Really? I'm supposed to guess that?

Another clue suggests, "it might be 18 oz. on a cereal box"; this is somehow answered, "netwt," as in "net weight."

My eyes begin to hurt from concentrating. But I can't stop playing "Crosswords." It's fun, if you like the masochism. And you can play easily with other gamers.

Over Memorial Day weekend, my close friend Stephanie came over, and we played for hours on end, day after day. She's from New York, and she's familiar with the Times' puzzler, so she was helpful/knew most of the answers.

But even clever Stephanie got frustrated as we limped along.

"Together, we're smart," she said. "But separately, we're idiots."

One thing that keeps me playing "Crosswords" is its potential to make my brain work better. A few studies have shown that tasking your brain with gaming complexities can sharpen your acuity, if only modestly.

Five years ago, researchers wrote in the Journal of the American Medical Association that older people can boost their cognitive functions if they engage their brains with intricate mental exercises.

I'm not an older person, but I found out months ago that my daily memory improved markedly by playing the math, logic and sudoku game, "Brain Age: Train Your Brain in Minutes a Day."

Similarly, I just finished playing "Crosswords" for the day, and long words keep flying into my brain while I write this review. I keep editing out those long words; I don't want to get too flashy with my big dumb brain.

Fortunately, "Crosswords" does give me a choice to play easier puzzles (which are still harder than average crosswords). "Monday" puzzles are the simplest. Each day after Monday gets progressively tougher.

Sunday puzzles are ridiculous. Here's a Sunday clue: "title village in a 1979 Francesco Rosi film." The answer: "Eboli." (I missed that.) There's also, "nut taken directly from the freezer. " That's a clue for "coldhardcashew." (Missed that, too.)

There is one saving grace for such brain twisters. Press a "hint" button on the DS, and the game fills in as many letters of an answer as you want. You could "hint" and cheat a whole puzzle or just the sticky spots to keep annoyance at bay.

And once you finish a puzzle, the game tells you which letters or words you got wrong, and you can try to fix them. Though, the more you "hint" and miss, the worse your grade. So far, I've earned a few A's but also D's -- D as in "daft."

("The New York Times Crossword" retails for $30 for DS -- Plays addictive. Looks fine. Challenging. Rated "T" for drug reference, mild language, mild suggestive themes. Three and one-half stars out of four.)

By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork

You remember your first kiss and your first car. And if you're a hard-core, bleary-eyed video gamer with too many 5 a.m. killing sprees in your pocket, you remember the first time you played "Halo" until you could no longer feel your red, raw thumbs.

It was super happy awesome fun times, a "Doom"-style shooter set in outer space. You fired rocket launchers at rivals while you jumped 20 feet in the air to secure high ground. It was a real eye-opener to what glory was possible on the Xbox. Then came the improved "Halo 2."

Now the gaming world awaits the Sept. 25 release of "Halo 3." But if you're antsy, you can download and play a short preview version through Xbox Live, although you have to own or rent "Crackdown" for the Xbox 360 to do so. ("Crackdown" itself is a stellar, "GTA"-ripoff shooting game.)

There's not much "Halo 3" at your disposal through Xbox Live, but it's enough to discover the beta version, at least, plays and feels like "Halo 2 Continued" with upgrades of visuals and weapons.

Once again, you run across green or snowy battlefields in your spacesuit; you leap and gun down rivals; gamers nicknamed AntiiiiiiChrist and Bongman420 riddle you with bullets.

The thing about "Halo" is it was the game of the year in 2002, bringing to the world a new type of bloodless murder fest, by offering a grand-looking sci-fi shooting adventure.

But in the past five years, we've seen its awe surpassed by "Call of Duty," "Battlefield" and "Gears of War" games. "Halo 3" looks slicker and moves smoother than its daddies. That's great. And it promises to be a grand, long adventure. Although, the handful of battlefields in the beta don't suggest that it's reinventing online play.

That said, it offers all the right stuff. You will be able to engage in team skirmishes, capture the flag contests, team vs. team slaughters, free-for-all kill-everybodies, and bomb-setting missions. There also should be a long, splendid solo mission offline.

The guns are the same. You begin with terrible starter machine guns, better sniper rifles and hard-to-target-but-deadly bazookas. You drive around in Jeep-y "Warthogs" and can turn half-invisible if you just happen to find that sort of armor lying around behind a tree.

The game blessedly allows you to mute obnoxious gamers, those occasional dillweeds blabbing racist and sexist trash talking. (Some people didn't get enough attention growing up.)

The beta ends June 10. If I had to guess, I'd say "Halo" fans will be plenty pleased, though the rest of the gaming community might complain, "I just shot that guy how many times? And he's still alive and shooting back at me?" Seriously, the guns are weak.

It's not fair for me to prognosticate about the entire "Halo 3." This is just a sample beta.

But since you have to spend $60 on "Crackdown" to download this "Halo 3" preview, reviewing it alone seems totally fair game. And it is drawing in customers. I've seen weeknights when 40,000 people were playing online. That's a lot of Bongman420s gunning for you.

("Halo 3" online beta is free to play for owners of "Crackdown" on Xbox 360 -- Plays fairly addictive but the guns are weak. Looks great. Challenging. Not rated. Three and one-half stars out of four.)

June 8, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN TV Critic

The only show I'm really bummed about getting canceled this year is Fox's "The Loop." It is a stupid, stupid show, but for once that's a compliment. "Bringing Up Baby" is pretty dumb -- also hilarious. "The Jerk" -- idiotic as could be, and a classic.

"The Loop" isn't up to the level of "The Jerk" or "Bringing Up Baby" (few things are), but it's madcap and funny. It's about a Chicago airline exec in his 20s who succeeds in doinking a lot of women despite seeming like a goofy Chihuahua.

In its first season, people on this fast-paced, wordplay comedy called each other "Make a Wish" (an insensitive mental insult), "Knob Rocket," "Sex Ranger," "Ass Clown" and my favorite, "Assface Jackknocker."

Fox dumped "The Loop" for bad ratings, but it's now airing the final episodes. They're more traditionally plotted than the first season, but still funnier than most things on TV.

Sam (Bret Harrison) the young airline exec is back. He's got the hots for a secretary -- or as Sam's frienemy Derek calls her, "the new set of cans working the phones."

Derek (Ian Reed Kesler) announces his intention to compete for the secretary: "I thought I'd take your new secre-tail upstairs for a little pre-game. Maybe put my (bleep) in her (bleep)."

"The Loop" works most of the time because it was created by talented writers Pam Brady and Will Gluck. While other shows pander to be "x-treme," "hip" and all that "kids today" stuff, Brady and Gluck inhabit those things naturally, and it manifests in the characters.

The directing and acting fit their tone of actual crass irony, as opposed to the usual TV crime of attempted crass irony. So it's neither offensive nor unfunny, especially when Sam's boss orders an underling to check into a sub-Motel 6 hotel by grousing, "You're gonna be staying in a youth hostel. I hope you like rape."

Since "The Loop" is more spiritually genuine than most twentysomething shows, it's surprising it never took off in pop culture. Last season's best episodes made me laugh more than "The Office" ever has. Then again, "Bringing Up Baby" fizzled at the box office, and a lot of critics initially panned "The Jerk."

At least "The Loop" gets this swan song, with a pared-down, excellent cast of Harrison (who has moved on to this fall's CW drama "Reaper"), Kesler, Philip Baker Hall (as Sam's boss Russ), Mimi Rogers (as Sam's other, hornier boss, Meryl) and Eric Christian Olsen (as Sam's flaky brother Sully).

But it is for sure the end for one of the few places on TV (other than "Family Guy" et al.) where you can hear a line like Meryl's when she sees Sam dressed in garbage: "What happened? You look like Mary-Kate Olsen."

Sayonara, jackknockers.

delfman@suntimes.com

June 6, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

In "Bindi the Jungle Girl," a snake coils about Bindi's neck but it doesn't get tangled in her pigtails. Bindi is unfazed, radiant, charming, cute, charismatic and more well-spoken than 97 percent of Hollywood and Washington, D.C.

"She's totally harmless to me," Bindi says of one of her endangered pet snakes, and you can see and hear her late father's Aussie excitement spring forth. "But she can actually eat venomous snakes! She has a hundred small sharp teeth, but look at her cute little face with those GORGEOUS eyebrows."

Bindi is 8 years old.

Her father, Steve Irwin the crocodile hunter, helped make "Jungle Girl" happen for Bindi. Filming began before he died. He appears in the new series that starts Saturday on Discovery Kids. In the second episode, taped last year, he's right there next to her, goofing around. Later, a stingray would jam a barb through his warm heart.

Bindi and her mom, Terri, pay tribute to papa Irwin with an Animal Planet special at 8 p.m. Friday called "My Daddy the Croc Hunter." He was my favorite TV hero. To me, his death was the most mournful TV moment of the year. Here was a guy who loved every living creature. He rescued crocodiles and many other unloved, un-cute beings few people on Earth care about. He did it all with bare hands.

It's heartbreaking again to watch the magnificent father and his enchanting daughter so playful together on "Jungle Girl," especially when she speaks in the present tense.

"Just like me, my dad loves pandas!" Bindi says.

Then, he lets a tiger feed on milk, poured by the tips of his fingers.

"Dad's making sure our tigers have a treat, too," she says in narration. "There are only a few thousand left in the wild, and they could all be gone by the time I'm old enough to drive. How sad is that?"

How sad is that?

But by the second episode, mourning fades with the familiarity of this new series. And even in the first episode, it is clear "Jungle Girl" is a high-water mark in both children's programming and nature TV.

Bindi's tree house abounds with her snakes, her pet rat, her pet puppy and her genuine delight. She swings on a rope and lopes like a gorilla -- all the while delivering sharp narration on animal segments about pandas, iguanas, rhinos and the like, which pop powerfully from the screen.

"Jungle Girl" moves fast, as you'd expect of a kid's show, but it's smooth, sleek, stylish and mesmerizing. Like "The Crocodile Hunter," it's environmentally conscious education completely disguised as amazing, upbeat entertainment.

It's the most perfect tree house since "Pee-wee's Playhouse" and Bart Simpson's "Treehouse of Horror," complete with a fantastic theme song punctuated by Bindi calling out blissfully, "Biiiiin-di!"

Just to give you an idea how much the Irwins and their Australian Zoo care about everything with a heartbeat, a lizard goes under the knife, not for being a bad lizard, but to get a life-threatening lump surgically removed from its ill body.

In such moments -- in all moments -- "Jungle Girl" is the sweetest thing, a bittersweet goodbye to a great man and a joyful hello for the love he left behind.

June 3, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

Peer at the reality show "Hell's Kitchen" and you may conclude we as a nation are masochistic, food-obsessed, fame-seeking sloths of mediocre talent.

The third season begins Monday with British chef Gordon Ramsay tasting the awful cooking of 12 contestants. The winner will earn $250,000 as a restaurant chef in a Las Vegas hotel.

With the stakes so high, you'd think these contestants graduated at Le Cordon Bleu or the Culinary Institute of America. But no. One contender grilled at a Waffle House.

To enter the contest, cooks submitted videotapes demonstrating their TV faces, rather than mailing in plates of achiote-seared shrimp with quick habanero-pickled onions.

"People always judge me when I walk in a kitchen -- by my looks," one wannabe says. She cooks pepper-crusted steak and roasted asparagus.

Other contestants are fragile and cry a lot on camera after Ramsay screams at them.

"Stop f---ing crying," Ramsay bellows at a man in a cowboy hat who normally cooks for retirees somewhere.

Ramsay says later in the season debut: "Why are you crying? What in the f---?"

And: "I've had some tough nights in my life, but not over a f---ing egg!"

Also: "F---ing concentrate!"

Plus: "Sir, do you mind just wiping the snot off your f---ing face before we serve chicken and snot?"

This entertaining sadism is served to contestants who crave TV time by any means necessary. But viewers can relate to his bossiness, if it's anything like their own workplace hell. (Misery loves company.)

To draw that masochistic conclusion, you could turn on other shows -- "The Office," "Rescue Me" and any other workplace series like "Scrubs" and "Grey's Anatomy" -- where labor is overworked, underpaid and berated.

But "Hell's Kitchen" is transparently rawer than most.

"You are one chunky monkey, aren't you?" Ramsey growls at the heavy, cowboy-hatted, retiree-feeding cook.

Fighting among contestants also depicts our foodie republic's oral fixation.

"What are you doing with the risotto?" one woman snarls at another. "No! This is not how you do it. Risotto -- you don't even add that much liquid to begin with!"

At its base, "Hell's" is a search for a star who isn't the best in America but the best available, TV-worthy person who has "vision."

"Hell's" greatly wanted competitors with "vision," Ramsay says.

But vision is the most overrated and dangerous quality within us. To have vision in your sights is to wear blinders.

George W. Bush has a vision about war. Terrorists have a vision about religion. Paris Hilton has a vision about singing.

Shakespeare, Mozart and Picasso are not defined by vision. They were master craftsmen. They were servants to methods to produce high-quality work, and only by deduction, then, did they challenge tradition and trends in their fields.

In college, I waited tables in New Orleans under chef Emeril Lagasse. Emeril was a spectacular cook. He did not blabber about vision. He was a learned chef, working very hard, six or seven days a week, morning to night.

Similarly, Ramsay roasted and baked tirelessly for top-notch eateries around the world to attain skills, then fame. The peak of his mountain now is to host "Hell's Kitchen" and hand a reputation shortcut to a short-order cook.

At least "The Apprentice" judged very accomplished CV owners. And surprisingly, "The Search for the Next Pussycat Doll" featured extremely skilled vocalists, mostly better than on "Idol," though the winner must now sing dumbed-down Dolls songs, booty out.

Step back to get perspective and you'll see the mediocre talent in "Hell's" is a microcosm of other Americanisms, like our politics. If you ran a huge corporation a decade ago, would you have hired Arnold Schwarzenegger as your CEO? How about George W. Bush or John Kerry?

Of course you wouldn't have. You would have headhunted the most skilled, brilliant, learned and trained taskmaster you could find, someone with an impeccable track record. Someone who's not primarily a lying visionary.

That's how we should hire politicians, but we don't. In government and on TV, we focus on candidates we can laugh at, or root for as underdogs, sweethearts or the best of the worst.

We the viewers and voters are our own undoing. We feast on fast-food crumbs forked out by anti-intellectuals who underrate our taste buds.

Consider "American Idol." If it were serious, it would hold auditions at Berklee College of Music, in addition to Soldier Field. But we don't want a serious "Idol," apparently.

And if "Hell's Kitchen" sought a world-class chef, a few producers would sniff out culinary classes around the world.

But what "Hell's Kitchen" desires is good ratings as fluffy amusement. And -- other than an aggravating, cymbal-riddled music score -- it is undeniably entertaining, because Ramsay is the R. Lee Ermey ("Full Metal Jacket") of cooking.

"It tastes like gnat's piss!" he shrieks at a cook's dish.

That contestant may soon be serving roast cannon of new-season lamb with confit shoulder, white bean puree and baby leeks at Las Vegas' Green Valley Ranch. If so, don't expect to see "gnat's piss" on billboards, just on plates.

delfman@suntimes.com

June 1, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

Awwwwwwwwwwwwww. Puppieeeeeeeeeeeeeeees. If you think your puppy is the most adorable little scamp in town, you've missed your chance to enter it in We's "America's Cutest Puppies" contest. The winner is ... I won't spoil the surprise.

But in Saturday night's Chicago-based episode, three local judges pet and play with scores of local pooches --and get peed on, naturally -- before crowning the city's cutest dog between 4 and 8 months old. The champ goes on to take a bow-wow-wow in dog-eat-dog national finals.

Every pup is cute, and that's all the show needs to trot along as canine eye candy.

Doggies face three female judges, no males. Dozens and dozens of dogs vie for affection. It's like "The Bachelorette" with actual animals instead of metaphorical beasts.

You can tell a lot about the judges by how they describe their favorite doggy traits. DJ Erin Carman of the Loop (WLUP-FM, 97.9) has a crush on one English bulldog; when she expresses an interest in his self-assurance, it sounds like a dogmatic confession from "Sex and the City."

"I think the attraction to Sweet Bea is the fact that here's this confident dog," Carman says. "We're looking at it like, 'Whoa, this dog has no idea how crazy it looks.' It doesn't care. And that's cute. That's absolutely adorable."

Carman also takes a shine to a pug because it "gave me a few kisses, so, big bonus."

When the pooches don't please them, the judges sound pretty Chicago-y. They're hard-bitten, hard-to-please critics. Charisa Antigua, a fashion designer, grumbles, "I don't like dumb dogs." She's looking for a cutie who's sweet, loving, kind and gentle yet playful.

"He wasn't playing with his toys," Antigua says of a pup. "So I don't know. He just didn't do it for me."

Ruff comments! The judges' barks are bigger than their bites, though. They all succumb to "awww"ing and take it in stride when a puppy tinkles on them.

It appears these are everyday pets, not super-trained show dogs. Even owners whose dogs lose shake it off. No one gets in a catfight. "America's Cutest Puppies" isn't that kind of best-in-show. In fact, the winning human cries like a big baby at the end.

If the show is any indication, Chicago has a lot of puggles, bulldogs and golden retrievers, plus Boston terriers, Chinese charpiers and chowchows.

Owners named their tail-wagging loved ones Hefner, Dolly, M&M (not Eminem), Budha, Bruzer, Briskett Blues, Bocephus and Miss Gina Marie. One dog wears a tuxedo shirt complemented by a Napoleon hat. Another, a one-piece, yellow chicken suit.

Puppies that make it into the top 10 are hot pooches like Budha, a deaf staff/Lab mix who wins over Carman the way dogs catch all the ladies' eyes: He's attractive and has character.

"He tells a story just by looking at him," Carman says. "And that sounds really stupid, but it's true. You just look at that dog and you get emotional!"

Awwwwwww. Now heel, Carman, heel.

May 31, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

Roxy is slinging drinks in a two-bit bar when a soldier boy walks in and purrs the proposal of her dreams.

"Roxy," the fresh-faced paratrooper says, "you work two jobs, right? And you got two kids from two different men. Now, I know I only met you four days ago, but I think you're my soul mate, and I decided I want you to marry me."

That must have been some seriously good sex they had to persuade him to have sex with her forever.

Roxy ain't no dummy. She packs up the kids and joins him on a military base, where a whole new show called "Army Wives" goes down.

In this ensemble drama, there are too many wives, soldiers' spouses and kids to discuss here. But you can be sure Roxy will spill a drink on her dress during a fancy soldier party and exclaim, aw-shucks-like, "Well, if I didn't just serve up toe jam on an idiot cracker!"

And later on, of course, a pregnant woman will seem to go into labor in an automobile and cry out, "I can't have these babies in the backseat of a car!" (Sure she can. She just has to try a little.)

None of the above can possibly seem too appealing, and that's not even counting the obvious story points -- there's a cheater, a physical abuser, a soldier suffering post-traumatic stress and Roxy's bar drink, called a "big hot hooter," with a cherry for a nipple.

But "Army Wives" is better than it has any right to be. As I've said for years, subject matter doesn't matter; execution matters.

And the premiere of "Army Wives" mostly overcomes all those retread and/or laughable situations with good casting and deft direction. There are even some funny conversations that go down. They're usually sexy.

Roxy goes drinking with two Army wives; they tell her they're looking to pick up men while their hubbies are away.

"I thought you were married?" Roxy asks.

"I am," one slutty Army wife says. "I'm just not fanatic about it." That's a damn good line.

Besides, as much as the cliches gnaw at the conscience, cliches are sometimes true. "Army Wives" is based on real-life archetypes found in journalist Tanya Biank's nonfiction Under the Sabers: The Unwritten Code of Army Wives.

This Lifetime show may also have been helped by being captained by heavy hitters from broadcast networks, headed by "Grey's Anatomy" producer Mark Gordon. Whoever did the casting was the smartest of the bunch.

The real gem actress is not the biggest name, Kim Delaney, though she's solid as a honcho's strong wife. The find is Sally Pressman's turn as Roxy. As corny as Roxy's new marriage is with paratrooper Trevor (Drew Fuller), Pressman and Fuller burn sweet chemistry.

"Why don't you jump on in here, big boy, and see if you can open my parachute?" Roxy says from under cover, and the scene unfolds in giddy charm and joy.

"Army Wives" is also valuable for what it's not. Unlike the usual suspects, it's not a cloying nighttime soap. There are no murder-mystery whodunits on an inexplicable isle. Teri Hatcher doesn't get locked naked outside a "Desperate Housewives" home. (Oops!)

The next few episodes do sink a bit into sap, with the babies and the soldier phone calls. But over all, "Army Wives" likes its characters and their marriages, and it treats them and us viewers as only partial imbeciles. Run that up a flagpole and salute it.

May 29, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

If you aren't rich, you stink. That's how TV might make you feel this summer. Turn on the teevee and soon you'll see new L.A.-set shows starring lots of Richie Riches:

There are "John From Cincinnati" (rich kid goes surfing), "Sunset Tan" (upscalers go tanning!), "Californication" (novelist with child) and "Traveler" (rich kids on the lam). Already on: "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" (Hollywood, behind the scenes); "On the Lot" (rich execs auditioning filmmakers), and "The Simple Life" (Paris Hilton and pal).

Hey, TV executives, can you please look some other place than your own pool parties to find protagonists? Like, San Francisco, maybe. Or Portland. New Mexico is pretty. How about New Mexico?

When I watched three shows coming up this week, I realized the settings for all three are ensconced in cash and the Hollywood area. "Starter Wife" is a new miniseries on USA starring Debra Messing, the redhead from "Will & Grace." She plays Molly, a woman who's got it all. Her hubby's a movie bigwig. They raise a kid. La, la, la.

Then he dumps her because, you know, she's getting old or too familiar. That's the problem with wives -- you get to know them too long.

Molly doesn't even seem to love him. She just adored the whole superwoman thing. Boo hoo. Now as an ex-"starter wife," she's rejected by her country club, charity organizations and even a close friend named (I swear) Cricket.

"You too, Cricket?" Molly frowns. That's a reference to Caesar's "Et tu, Brute?" Molly probably relates to Caesar. Like Molly, he had it all, although he went through a midlife crisis she doesn't suffer called "stabbed to death."

We don't see much of Molly's daughter. "Starter Wife" keeps focusing on her deep loss of everything, except she gets to keep her millions and her 117-pound hot bod, and Molly continues to be a dead ringer for very pretty Debra Messing.

The trouble with "Starter Wife" isn't Messing or money. The show just kind of lies there, like the bird poop that fell on our president's face at a press conference the other day. Oh, I mean, his shirt. Sorry. Wishful thinking.

This other new show is "Hidden Palms" on the CW. It's a nighttime soap for kids and adult pervs who can watch and go, "Oh, those boys and girls are hot. Scrrrum!"

"Hidden Palms" begins with the main kid's dad shooting his brains out in front of him. So the main kid (ohmygod I forgot his name, sorry) moves to Palm Springs with his mommy and her new sugar daddy.

Everyone the main kid meets is hot like him, because kids on TV must be smmmokin'. The juveniles are hiding a secret about a dead kid in their circle. Was it murder? Suicide? Autoerotic asphyxiation? I'm not saying.

"Hidden Palms" isn't totally odious. After the bad acting in the initial daddy suicide, the show calms down and holds mild interest for its bikini hotness, cool blue pools and unapologetic stupidity.

But the second episode bogs down in the soapy death mystery and the inability of the main boy and girl to get over their "Dawson's Creek" standoffishness. They do kiss, but she makes him jump through hoops. Why does he let her? Oh right, he's a horny boy.

Also coming up is the season finale of "Entourage." It's a good one. The cast seems invigorated by the latest storylines, tighter one-liners and tauter direction.

If you caught the last "Entourage," you know Vincent was offered $60 million to produce a movie. To get the cash, all Vince had to do was service the moneyman's hot wife (a former "Miss Beautiful") with the moneyman's blessing.

This Sunday, Vince and his buds will tour a booty-bouncing porn set. I mean, it's like 10 minutes of Vince and Eric talking to a director while people carry on naked in the background.

Now, I'm not opposed to wealthy starter wives, dour rich kids in Palm Springs or entourages of actors surrounded by naked shaggers. But really, TV honchos, there's this place called "the rest of America." Give it a try.

May 27, 2007
By Doug Elfman
Chicago Sun-Times

Jack Bauer hasn't gone to the bathroom in six years. Killing terrorists also has kept him from supermarkets, bars and bedroom romps. Next year, though, the makers of "24" are revamping the show. It's about time they give him relief from saving Los Angeles.

So here's how I think Jack's next 24 hours should go: a day off. The following takes place between 8 a.m. Christmas Eve and 8 a.m. Christmas Day.

8:00 A.M. Jack wakes up next to Chloe. "Hi, snooky bunny," he says. Chloe says, "Don't kiss me yet. I have puppy-dog breath." After some action, Chloe scrambles eggs, while Jack rifles through her iPod for a song that's not by Elton John or Coldplay.

9:00 A.M. Jack makes a list of all the people he's tortured harder than necessary. He finally goes to the bathroom for the rest of the hour, calling people on the list to offer amends. He realizes he's out of toilet paper and deodorant. "Damn it!"

10:00 A.M. Jack realizes all his clothes have bullet holes in them, and they're bloody and out of date. He drives to a shopping mall that is oddly only three minutes away, the exact length of a commercial break. He buys a knit cap he'll never wear. "I wonder if I'm a bandana guy."

11:00 A.M. Since Jack's phone always rings when he's sneaking up on bad guys, he spends an hour figuring out how to turn his mobile on vibrate. Considers new rate plan.

12:00 P.M. Jack drives to Starbucks and is amazed by all the people using laptops and mobile phones. "Doesn't anyone talk to each other anymore?" The 17-year-old girl behind the counter flirts with him. The 17-year-old boy who makes his caramel macchiato flirts with him. Later, he wishes he'd left a bigger tip.

1:00 P.M. For lunch, Jack meets his new literary agent, who wants him to write a tell-all, but Jack doesn't want to compromise the government, so he offers to pen a children's book about a terrorist-beating ferret whom the big dog bosses never listen to, even though he's always right.

2:00 P.M. Chloe calls. "Nooner?" Jack: "It's not noon. But yeah. Bring it on! I do have time for this!" In bed they play their little game: "You are gonna tell me what I wanna know. It's just a matter of how much you want it to hurt."

3:00 P.M. Jack goes to the bathroom again. He remembers he's out of toilet paper. "Damn it!" He does laundry, but the washing machine overflows with suds. Hilarity ensues.

4:00 P.M. Jack meets Bill Buchanan for a feisty game of Putt-Putt Golf. Bill dismisses Jack's advice to bounce a putt off a clown's shoe, frustrating Jack. "I need you to trust me!"

5:00 P.M. Chloe meets Jack to exchange office gossip over an early supper. Jack's a sucker for an early bird special. Stirring his coffee, he almost accidentally substitutes anthrax for sugar.

6:00 P.M. The black-and-white episode. Jack naps and dreams he's back in the 1920s with the cast of the original "Star Trek."

7:00 P.M. The musical episode. Jack wakes from his nap to discover everything he and his crew say comes out in song, wonders why.

8:00 P.M. Jack cleans his condo and tries on Chloe's lingerie. She walks in awkwardly at exactly the moment he's drag-dancing in the living room. "Jack?!" She storms out in tears. "I don't even know who you are anymore!"

9:00 P.M. Jack decides to go to bed, but he can't sleep. So he organizes his iTunes and tries to find a good show on. "There is nothing on TV! Oh, hey, 'Law & Order's' on TNT. Aw, I've seen this one. But I can't remember how it ends."

10:00 P.M. Chinese spy baddie Cheng Zhi comes over for Christmas Eve cocktails. Jack threatens to torture him but decides against it. They accidentally get locked in a freezer, where each learns the other guy really isn't so bad.

11:00 P.M. Jack goes clubbing. Gets slipped ecstasy. Talks to cat. Dances, makes out with girl he's never seen before, stumbles home feeling "incredibly alive."

12:00 A.M. Jack calls Chloe and tells her he's rolling on "e." She brings him a government-secret "bring down" to counter the drug. Doesn't like his new hair gear. "Jack, you're so not a bandanna guy."

1:00 A.M. A very special "24." Jack's neighbor Michael Scofield is shocked to find Jack coming down from rolling on "e." Michael calls mutual friends, and they forge a sometimes wacky, sometimes touching intervention.

2:00 A.M. The intervention leaves Jack grumpy, depressed and angry. He passes out and is visited by three ghosts, the spirits of President Palmer, his dead wife Teri and late brother Graem. They show him his past, present and future. He wakes up giddy that it's still only 3 a.m. and leaves to try to find a honey-glazed turkey in the middle of the night.

3:00 A.M. He tries to prepare the Christmas turkey in a single-guy way. More hilarity.

4:00 A.M. The live episode, staged in front of a studio audience. People keep knocking on Jack's door, slamming doors, ridiculing his bandanna and his overinflated sense of national worth. Jack proposes to Chloe. Special guest star: Cloris Leachman!

5:00 A.M. Chloe says, "I do." The happy couple drives three minutes to the nearest wedding chapel to get married. They have trouble waking the ornery chapel owner. She pesters him to write his own vows. An ex of Jack's just happens to walk in during the part where the minister says, "If anyone objects to this union ..."

6:00 A.M. After honeymoon action, Chloe comes out of the bathroom with a pregnancy test in her hands. "I'm knocked up ... again!" Jack's already supporting the kid she had with Morris. So they argue over whether they can abide more kids, less sex.

7:00 A.M. Using secret government technology, Chloe accelerates her pregnancy, gives birth to nine-month-old ... twins! Jack, thinking ahead, already has presents for them under the tree, which he throws into the swimming pool for laughs.

delfman@suntimes.com