Fresh look at dirty laundry
By Hal Boedeker | Sentinel Television Critic
Posted October 1, 2004
The food includes spicy paella, disastrous macaroni and an almost deadly salad.
The intimate moments range from a tryst on a hand-carved, $23,000
table to a husband's selfish suggestion to a weary wife. The fool
suffers for it.
A dead woman narrates, but in a surprisingly upbeat tone for someone
who has killed herself.
ABC's Desperate Housewives whips up the saucy moments with the flair
of a world-class chef. You should hear what this show is saying about
the wistful women of Wisteria Lane. And, please, pass it on.
The series, debuting Sunday, stands as a thrilling reminder that
broadcast television can tell spirited, adult stories beyond all
those CSI and Law & Order spinoffs. The networks lately have ceded
the provocative plotting to HBO (home of The Sopranos) and FX
(destination for The Shield and Nip/Tuck).
Yet Desperate Housewives puts ABC back in the drama business in a
nervy style that recalls the dawn of NYPD Blue. ABC continues its
remarkable comeback with Boston Legal, an impudent spinoff of The
Practice that also starts Sunday.
It is not enough to say that Desperate Housewives is the best new
series of the fall. In a season of forgettable sitcoms, the hour
show is the funniest newcomer. In a largely predictable lineup, it
is a shrewd mystery with involving twists. In a medium that often
shortchanges women, it is a grand showcase for accomplished actresses.
Creating this intoxicating concoction is Marc Cherry, who wrote for
The Golden Girls. He brings passion, perception and personality to
the material. He shifts easily from zany slapstick to wrenching drama
in the fast-moving premiere. He salutes television's past and builds
on it.
Desperate Housewives presents the nosiest neighbor since Gladys
Kravitz of Bewitched. She is the shameless Mrs. Huber, played with
gusto by Christine Estabrook. The series brings back Nicollette
Sheridan of Knots Landing to vamp with combustible consequences.
On the surface, Desperate Housewives suggests a steamy soap, a campy
satire and a bright sitcom with bouncy music. But the title hints at
the show's willingness to plow new ground.
A cheating husband paraphrases Henry David Thoreau by telling his
wife that most men lead lives of quiet desperation. Her response:
"And what do most women lead? Lives of noisy fulfillment?"
The women who populate this suburb keep their true feelings hidden
and their secrets buried. The placid Mary Alice Young (Brenda Strong)
has ended her life and thrown her friends into confusion. In tones
from catty to sympathetic, Mary Alice still weighs in on the action
while her pals realize their lives are a lot like hers.
Former model Gabrielle Solis (Eva Longoria) questions her materialistic
values and her empty marriage to pushy Carlos (Ricardo Antonio Chavira).
Illustrator Susan Mayer (Teri Hatcher of Lois & Clark) tires of her
self-imposed isolation after her divorce. She fumbles toward romance
with new neighbor Mike Delfino (James Denton), a dashing plumber.
Lynette Scavo (Felicity Huffman of Sports Night) broods over giving
up the business world for motherhood. She suffers because husband Tom
(Doug Savant) is oblivious and their four unruly children mess up
everything from wakes to supermarket shopping.
Peerless homemaker Bree Van De Kamp (Marcia Cross of Melrose Place)
alienates her family with her tireless bid for perfection. "I
just can't live in this detergent commercial anymore," husband
Rex (Steven Culp) tells her.
Creator Cherry modeled the brittle Bree on his mother, not Martha
Stewart. He can be devastatingly funny, but he also dares to be
unsettling in a commercial-driven medium. He forces the audience,
like his characters, to look deeper. If you're willing, Desperate
Housewives can make you hopeful about network television.
The cast responds with terrific performances. Hatcher's vulnerability,
Huffman's fury and Cross' anguish deserve spots on the highlight reel
of the fall's best acting.
You laugh with these women, and you feel for them. Desperation never
looked so good.
© The Orlando Sentinel 2004. All Rights Reserved.