Desperation comes in many forms: a seemingly happily-wedded person seeking love outside marriage; a timid being who is pushed around too many times; or perhaps an empty soul whose life is so meticulously organized that everything has been put away, including their appreciation of life.
All these examples, and several more, are on vivid display in the first episode of Desperate Housewives (Sunday, 9/8 central on ABC). And rarely has desperation been so intriguing, or so unabashedly sexy.
One of this autumn’s most promising new television shows, Housewives seems to represent a genuine attempt by a big network to employ the kind of smart, adult themes that have allowed HBO and now F/X to succeed with shows like The Sopranos, The Shield and Nip/Tuck. But first, Housewives takes a step back – way, way back – by pulling a page out of the Sunset Boulevard playbook and handing over the voice of omniscient narrator to a deceased character.
It’s as daring now as it was fifty years ago, and it shines a great light into the inner workings of the “friends” of one Mary Alice Young (Brenda Strong), a seemingly happy homemaker who opens the show by dusting her piano, straightening her picture frames, and then blowing her brains all over her living room wallpaper. As it turns out, Mary Alice’s wake is a delightful place to meet the other housewives as they make the shocking event on their idyllic block all about themselves.
Bree Van De Kamp (Marcia Cross) shows up in her black dress and pearls carrying freshly baked pastry baskets, reminding the grieving husband that she’ll need them back when he’s finished. Gabrielle Solis (Eva Longoria), one half of the wealthiest family on the block, shows up with her husband while they take turns offering condolences, bickering, and reminding each other to keep up appearances. Lynette Scavo (Felicity Huffman) makes her appearance without a man by her side, instead surrounded by four frightfully rambunctious kids. Last is Susan Mayer (Teri Hatcher), the most complex of the group, whose desperation stems from wanting to find a second husband and settle down into the kind of “normal” life her friends lead.
Writer-Creator-Executive Producer Marc Cherry – best known until now for The Golden Girls, of all things – sets an amazing number of balls juggling in the air during this initial installment. Every day, when her surly husband Carlos (Ricardo Chavira) goes to the office, Gabrielle finds a new room of their luxurious house to christen with the teenage gardener.
Bree has her own marital weaknesses as she goes from trying to hide their unhappiness to burying his desire for a divorce, and then on to concealing the fact that she may have tried to kill him. Susan butts heads with artificially-enhanced town vamp Edie (Nicolette Sheridan), as they both compete for the attention of a man who is lying about being a plumber. And what the hell is Mary Alice’s supposedly grieving husband digging up in the backyard?
Housewives shows a few cracks here and there that could grow in size if they continue. The cartoonish scene in which Susan accidentally burning down Edie’s house, stumbling and bumbling as she tries to put the fire out, would be more appropriate on an episode of Hope & Faith. Furthermore, the antiseptic look of the establishing shots of Wisteria Lane are not only the most obvious studio soundstage since Dogville, but they also leave you with a haunting sense of claustrophobia.
Lastly, there seems to be real danger that the husbands will get pushed so far into the background that the overall observations on marriage could be weakened.
All a first episode really needs to do, however, is show some promise and make you want to watch episode 2 – and Desperate Housewives accomplishes both several times over. Not quite soap opera, not quite drama, this is a program that has obviously been influenced by American Beauty as much as it has been by Sex and the City, and while this combination film-cable TV pedigree is a wise one, it should prove fascinating to watch as they explore such themes with the censorship restrictions put on a primetime network program. The acting will help considerably.
If ever a performance has begun to scream Emmy only one episode into the life of a series, it would have to be that of Felicity Huffman. The long-underappreciated actress has found herself a juicy piece of meat here, and the pure sass of her character as she wades into a swimming pool after her kids or punches out her husband when he suggests unprotected sex is enough to make people stand up at home and cheer.
Rarely has motherhood been portrayed with such primal indulgence, and rarely has it been as funny.
Hatcher brings spirit and earnestness to the program’s most central character, while Cross’ creation of Bree Van De Kamp is somehow sinister, motherly, sexy and irritating all at the same time. Least effective out of the group is Longoria, who comes across as little more than eye candy, but the fact that Cherry has chosen to make the cul-de-sac’s wealthiest family a Latino one is a declaration that this program intends to test some boundaries.
The women of lemony-fresh Wisteria Lane have more issues that Sports Illustrated – insecurity, betrayal, deception and desperation. It’s all glorious fun to watch, and if there seems to be one person in this world who looks like he won’t be desperate for quite some time, it’s Marc Cherry.
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