May 2006 Archives

HBO finds itself in a position it has never been in before, but that other network executives will recognize with queasy unease: It has inspired viewer wrath for cancelling a series beloved by fans. "Deadwood," probably HBO's most popular series after "The Sopranos," will be buried with its boots still on, a season earlier than expected -- season three, beginning June 11, will be its last, though creator David Milch had heretofore said that he envisioned its storyline running four seasons.

Fans, needless to say, aren't happy, and "Deadwood" is the kind of show that inspires tremendous viewer loyalty and protectiveness -- the show is a genuinely unique piece of work (not just for TV; few films can touch it, as well), making it a rare and precious thing in fans' minds. Responses have come in the form of savedeadwood.net, which helped bankroll an ad in Variety, and hbonomo.com, which threatens HBO where it matters the most: Nearly 450 people have signed with the site, vowing to cancel the service if "Deadwood" doesn't get its fourth season. Not likely enough to get the network to reconsider, but a statement nonetheless.

This does suggest something of a sea change over at HBO, which heretofore prided itself on the cost-be-damned devotion to quality programming. (Perhaps the change began back when the miniseries "Angels In America" cost $60 million but inspired only modest viewer turnout.) In the past, the network has always boasted that it is wildly profitable, and bragged about its autonomy within Time Warner's corporate structure. Either those scenarios are no longer the case, or HBO chairman Chris Albrecht has taken a bizarre misstep. This can only suggest to subscribers that the premium-cable channel is just like the every other network now, and one's favorite HBO shows are subject to the same capricious whims of fate that keep showrunners working elsewhere from sleeping securely. And given HBO's batting average of late -- "Rome," "Big Love" and "Entourage" don't lure the numbers of previous network hits -- chopping up "Deadwood" to feed to the pigs doesn't make much sense.

One reason given for the show's cancellation was its enormous costs, and Milch's perfectionism -- episodes took twice as long to shoot as regular TV dramas, and cost twice as much. But since HBO has already ordered another series from Milch -- the "surfer-noir" "John From Cincinnati" -- it's clearly not too worried about the way Milch operates when putting his shows together. So one wonders at the machinations behind the decision -- Milch was with Paramount when he created the series; did HBO simply not want to continue sharing the show's revenues with another studio?

As one reader and "Deadwood" fan pointed out, "You can see there's something else going on here. People of all strata are becoming disgusted with the rapacious greed that corrodes every area of our lives, including the accessible art that brings relief from everyday anxieties. Maybe we've lost our sense that we can make a difference as citizens in this country, but maybe we've still got some power as consumers."

The Daily News is running a story about the ongoing "Deadwood" cancellation controversy on Sunday, but here're a few thoughts on David Milch after seeing him "perform" -- really, there's no other word for it -- at a Writers Guild event Thursday evening.

If Milch wasn't one of TV's most talented writers, he'd certainly have an extremely successful career as a stand-up comic. He was funny and forthcoming about everything from his career to his misspent youth (his explication as to why he was a particularly bad criminal was particularly amusing) to his assessment of his current psychological state: "My doctor tells me that he knows of no one who takes more anti-depressants," Milch said, "and that he knows of no one who is more dangerously undermedicated."

As for the Q&A that followed: C'mon, LA. These things aren't about you or your stupid script. (One guy apparently mistook Milch for Dr. Phil, because amusingly enough he asked him for advice for coping with depression.) And don't ask for writing advice. You want writing advice? Step one: Be as brilliant as David Milch. There. You're set. Go have a successful career.

While network schedules aren't etched in stone once they're announced during the annual ritual that is the May upfront week, it's rare for a network to utterly tear up its schedule and start over from scratch. Nonetheless, that's what NBC did today when it released a revised 2006-07 fall schedule.

Every day but Saturday (which was just an installment of "Dateline" and repeats) and Sunday (given over to football) has been revamped. "Crossing Jordan," which was initially intended to return midseason, is being brought off the bench to air Fridays at 8 p.m., replacing one of the installments of "Deal or No Deal," which is being moved to 9 p.m. Thursdays, which was previously occupied by Aaron Sorkin's new drama, "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip." On Thursdays, "Studio 60" was not only going to have to compete with CBS's "CSI," but "Grey's Anatomy," which ABC had moved into the timeslot, ostensibly to ensure that Sorkin's new baby would be stillborn. It's now set to air Mondays at 10 p.m., replacing "Medium," which has been pushed to midseason.

All of NBC's moves, in one way or another, seem to have protecting "Studio 60" in mind. But there are further question marks in the network's new lineup: Now, Tuesdays will feature "Law & Order: Criminal Intent" and "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" back to back beginning at 9 -- even for the most devout "L&O" fan, that feels like overkill (the original "L&O" has been shipped to 10 p.m. Friday, where "Criminal Intent" had initially been moved). And while "Studio 60" will only have to compete with "CSI: Miami" in its new timeslot (well, and ABC's low-rated "What About Brian"), don't expect it to get much help from its fairly incompatible lead-in, "Heroes," an odd-looking show about ordinary citizens with bizarre super-powers (but no tights or Latex suits).

One move does make sense: The network rescheduled its new comedies, "20 Good Years" and "30 Rock," an hour earlier on Wednesdays, at 8 p.m. Until "George Lopez" and "According to Jim" appear after the next cycle of "Dancing with the Stars," there are no other sitcoms in that timeslot (actually, given the quality of "Jim," there'll scarcely be any other comedies in the timeslot when it does return).

And moving "Deal or No Deal" to 9 p.m. Thursday can't really hurt NBC, since that show's audience probably isn't capable of dealing with the nuances of narrative structure that scripted series such as "CSI" and "Grey's Anatomy" offer, and even if it doesn't do particularly well in the ratings, it's a relatively cheap show to produce. Nonetheless, it's not much of a contribution to the legacy of NBC's once-hallowed "Must-See Thursday."

That sound you hear? Can't be flop sweat; flop sweat doesn't make a sound.

NBC's updated 2006-07 schedule (* indicates new show; ** indicates new timeslot; *** indicates a new show in a revised timeslot):

Monday
8 p.m. "Deal or No Deal"
9 p.m. "Heroes" *
10 p.m. "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" ***

Tuesday
8 p.m. "Friday Night Lights" *
9 p.m. "Law & Order: Criminal Intent" **
10 p.m. "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit"

Wednesday
8 p.m. "20 Good Years" ***
8:30 p.m. "30 Rock" ***
9 p.m. "The Biggest Loser" **
10 p.m. "KIDNAPPED" ***

Thursday
8 p.m. "My Name Is Earl" **
8:30 p.m. "The Office" **
9 p.m. "Deal or No Deal" **
10 p.m. "ER"/("The Black Donnellys" * in January 2007)

Friday
8 p.m. "Crossing Jordan" **
9 p.m. "Las Vegas"
10 p.m. "Law & Order" **

One of the reasons that disgraced Texas Congressman Tom DeLay could lead the Terry Schiavo/anti-euthanasia battle last year even though he had the plug pulled on his own comatose father years earlier may be that the guy is simply unfamiliar with the concept of Irony.

Further proof: On DeLay's legal-defense website, he actually has a clip from "The Colbert Report" in which Stephen Colbert "grills" Robert Greenwald, producer of the film "The Big Buy: Tom DeLay's Stolen Congress."

Apparently, DeLay (or whoever posted the clip on the site) didn't notice the laughter at Colbert's comments or the applause Greenwald received. Who wants to explain to DeLay just what a monumental mistake this was? Any takers?

Network news has traditionally treated the West Coast with something less than respect: We essentially get three-hour-old news from the broadcast newscasts. ABC experimented with updating "World News Tonight" for West Coast viewers for a while earlier this year but quietly abandoned the practice after Bob Woodruff's tragic injury in Iraq.

KCET is trying to right this wrong, however, offering "The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer" in a live webcast afternoons at 3 p.m. Otherwise, it airs at 7 p.m. on Channel 28. This is part of a three-month trial to gauge viewer interest.

So if you're a news junkie and your boss is usually absent in the afternoons, you now have a new way of keeping up with the world.

After last night's episode, the sports books are giving Taylor Hicks prohibitive odds to win this season's "American Idol:" At one site, you'd have to wager $17 to win a mere buck, and what's the fun in that. Katherine McPhee, on the other hand, has slid to 5-1 odds at one book and 4-1 odds at another.

Which means no point in watching the two-hour leviathan "AI" installment tonight; there seems to be little sense of mystery as to who'll win.

Instead, you can see if JJ Abrams has figured out a way to lure back the "Lost" fans who have been abandoning the show with his show's season-two finale in which Michael prepares to sacrifice half the cast in order to rescue his son from the goofy-beard contingent. (Just switch over at 9:55 to see how wise conventional wisdom is.)

In an effort to hold out some hope for Katherine, Yahoo! reports that a lot more people are doing online searches for McPhee than for Hicks, to which we reply, well, no (rectal extrusions) -- have you looked at the two of them? "AI's" ostensible core audience, women over 30, search for Hicks twice as much as McPhee, though.

As many good things as "House" routinely manages, one thing it does seem to have problems with is its season finales.

(What follows includes spoilers for those who didn't see but did record the episode.)

Last year, "House" cooked up a contrived storyline involving his former lover being hired oh-so-conveniently by the hospital as in-house counsel while her husband was in the process of a long, slow mend. This flirtation played out over the first half of the past season, ending, as it inevitably had to, with House shooing her away to stay with her husband so he could remain the same old lovable Grumpy Gus he's always been. For while Hugh Laurie may be the thinking-woman's sex symbol, House as a romantic figure is an awfully gimpy notion.

Tonight, "House" opened with the proverbial and literal bang, as someone describing himself as a former patient shot the good doctor/bad human being twice. As the episode played out, it was boxes-within-boxes, a series of hallucinations and dreams and gross-out sequences that eventually had viewers asking themselves, how much of all this is a dream? The answer eventually revealed itself: All of it (c'mon -- putting him in the same hospital room with his assailant? The show did something similar earlier in the season when it trapped Forman in the same isolation area with someone he clearly disdained), putting those elaborate dream sequences in "The Sopranos" to shame.

In the end, as House was being wheeled to the OR, he requested a treatment he had been railing against the entire episode, one that would eliminate his limp and, it was implied, that might humanize him somewhat.

Just as it did last season, "House" has set up a cliffhanger the outcome of which should be obvious to any fan of the show. Those who love the irascible House won't sit for a kinder, gentler House, a less-brilliant House doesn't make for much of a medical-mystery series and his cane has become an iconographic part of the series.

This may be because the show doesn't play well with other TV conventions that the series' producers haven't created for themselves and, increasingly, the season-finale cliffhanger is one that numerous series have used to engage in a form of one-upsmanship. "House" may follow this edict somewhat half-heartedly.

This said, the dialogue crackled as always.

According to an online sports book that somehow got hold of my email address, grey-haired good ole boy Taylor Hicks is favored to win this season's "American Idol" competition. Hicks is a whopping 1-2 favorite over local sweetheart Katherine McPhee, who almost got bounced a couple of weeks ago. Katherine's odds of winning are currently set at 17-10; earlier in the competition, she was considered something of the favorite, but, well, let's just say her dancing skills haven't done her any favors.

Judge Simon Cowell hasn't been much of a fan of either McPhee or Hicks, whom he's regularly dismissed as a karaoke singer, pretty much the most damning descriptive for an aspiring star. Cowell, of course, has in the back of his mind the quandary of how he'd make Hicks a star if he wins. At the same time, to date only one "AI" winner has been a guy, so the show is likely itching to gain a bit of balance re: gender. McPhee, on the other hand, is telegenic and charming, but despite a show-stopping rendition of "Over the Rainbow," is apparently perceived as not having lived up to her initial potential.

Question: What kind of idiot would actually bet on this kind of competition? Though there are strict rules forbidding networks of manipulating TV competitions, these things can nonetheless be massaged, particularly in terms of scheduling the theme weeks, which play into some contestants' strengths and others' weaknesses, keeping some contestants on the show longer than they might have ordinarily and prematurely short-circuiting others' aspirations. 62 percent of those who have bet on the show this season have already lost their "investment."

Meanwhile, another email that traversed my inbox underscored how much academics enjoy using the show as a sociological petrie dish. Jungmin Lee, assistant professor of economics in the Sam M. Walton College of Business, found viewers in later rounds of the show voted along racial lines.

"At the sixth week, when there were only six contestants left, race preferences heated up relative to voting," Lee stated in the press release, which added: "He found that when viewership and voting were taken into account simultaneously, the connection between black viewers and black contestants was particularly strong. With relatively more black viewers, black contestants were less likely to be eliminated. For instance, an increase in the number of black households by slightly more than half a million decreased by 32 percent the likelihood that a black participant would be voted off the show. Lee noticed this phenomenon had a multiplier effect, as more black viewers tuned in the following week."

And this matters why, exactly? The press release goes on: "His study is part of a large body of research that demonstrates how preference based on race affects economic and labor markets." Economic and labor markets? Snooze. No wonder he brought "American Idol" in to jazz his study up.

ABC finally made the announcement it should've made six months ago: Namely, that Charles Gibson will become the sole anchor of "ABC World News Tonight."

"I am humbled to accept this new assignment," Gibson was quoted as saying in one of those canned press-release comments that sets the world atwitter with its warmth, honesty and insight. "I have witnessed first hand the grace and determination of every member of the staff of World News Tonight. I look forward to joining this extraordinary team and to helping the broadcast start a new chapter.�?

*Correction to previous post:* Gibson in fact won't continue with "GMA."

It's a little astonishing that it took this long for ABC to announce Gibson's promotion. "World News Tonight" with Elizabeth Vargas and Bob Woodruff was rejected almost immediately by viewers -- the dueling-anchor conceit felt contrived and neither was known well enough to allow viewers the sort of comfort level that is so crucial in this kind of broadcast. And the entire enterprise just began to feel snakebit, with Woodruff's tragic injury in Iraq and Vargas' pregnancy leaving the broadcast in what seemed a permanent state of flux. With Bob Schieffer gaining viewers for "The CBS Evening News," which began breathing down ABC's back, and with Katie Couric promising to give CBS an at least temporary sizable bounce in September, ABC remains in grave danger of relinquishing its newscast's No. 2 ratings position.

Diane Sawyer mans the anchor's chair quite capably, but she just carries this inextricable tinge of glamour about her; watching her do hard news day in and day out might be a little like having, say, Julia Roberts narrate a documentary on Chechen terrorists murdering schoolchildren. (Oh, wait, that's actually happening later this week on Showtime.)

So giving Gibson the job was not only the inevitable thing to do but also the right thing. Like Schieffer, he's a reliable, versatile workhorse whom viewers trust. Odd how much that matters given that the job consists mainly of reading off a teleprompter and kicking to field reporters (the anchor is onscreen, what, maybe all of six minutes in a 22-minute newscast?), but no one's been able to fathom the psychology of viewers so far so don't expect any breaking insights anytime soon.

(Spoilers drip throughout this post, mainly at the beginning, so if you've TiVo'd the season finale, check back later.)

So "24" concluded tonight with our good friend Jack Bauer winning and yet losing. Despite his most bone-headed play of the season -- losing the recording in which President Logan incriminated himself in the assassination of former President David Palmer -- Jack managed to get the President of the United States arrested for treasonous behavior, but apparently not before Logan, whom he (and therefore we) believed was responsible for selling Jack out to the Chinese government at the end of last season, alerted a crack team of Ninjas to spirit him away on the proverbial slow boat to China, thereby setting up next season as potentially a kind of "Manchurian Candidate" redux.

(Had Jack had any sleep this season, no way would he have been bested by a mere three Ninjas. And don't get any fan of the series started on how useless Jack's girlfriend Audrey is -- fortunately, she's been spirited away by another show that'll debut in the fall; unfortunately, that show looks like it could be quickly cancelled, freeing her up for another tour of duty on "24.")

(I was able to pay such close attention to "24" only because the Clippers weren't able to make their game 7 against the Suns as close as anyone would've liked. But I resolutely decline to get off the bandwagon -- they're still the most exciting team in town by a longshot, and Elton Brand is still The Man. And Sam Cassell is still The Old Man, even though he's a lot younger than I am.)

But, to pay homage to "24's" finale and the hard-fought conclusion of the Clippers' season, I herewith submit my assessment of "24's" season in the style of those ubiquitous NBA-playoff promos:

"67 jaw-dropping, credibility-stretching plot twists.
"136 casually dispensed civilian deaths.
"38 mind-bending breaches of the laws of physics (and speed-limit laws).
"31 hard-perimeter breaches.
"49 terrorists killed by Jack Bauer alone.
"And 1 evening sponsored by Fox to convince Emmy voters that '24' offers real-world applications in the War Against Terror and is not just some deliriously unhinged action series that values the undisputed thrill-ride above actual thoughtfulness. *
"All in one 24-hour period, and all leading up to the right for '24' to once again compete against TV's elite for the Outstanding Drama Emmy."

* This was a genuine event held Sunday evening at UCLA's Wadsworth Theatre. Alas, I could not attend, but the press release (whose poor punctuation I do not clean up below) promised "a special Q&A panel discussion "24 And The War on Terror: Can Truth Learn From Fiction?�? moderated by Matt Miller, Senior Fellow at the American Center for Progress," adding that, aside from cast members, "special guests including policy experts Morton Halperin a former Government Official & Director of the Security and Peace Initiative, Brian Jenkins a Rand terrorism expert, David Crane a former JAG & war crimes prosecutor and Jack Weiss, LA City Council in charge of terrorist threats." If anyone did attend and has some salient, entertaining details, we're all ears.

... is an online poll conducted by Bolt Media (I know, I hadn't heard of them, either) that found that 4 out of 5 teens between the ages of 16-18 could not name the big four broadcasters, and that one out of three people under the age of 34 could not even name one of the networks.

The poll goes on to say that young people spend more time online than watching TV. But then, so do I, and I'm a TV critic, so that hardly seems a remarkable stat.

Now, online polls are generally suspect, and, if you visit Bolt's site, you understand immediately that it's not exactly aimed at rocket scientists -- Forrest Gump would likely find it a little low-brow. But it does bespeak the networks' ongoing challenge in trying to reach young viewers, who didn't grow up in that three-network universe so never learned through osmosis that sort of brand loyalty.

During her upfront on Thursday, The CW's Dawn Ostroff offered advertisers a rather bemusing sociological profile of the network's average viewer, which included the sort of pointless observation that young people today are individualistic yet seek a sense of community. (And older people aren't?) "They know that fame and success are attainable, and they're going to go for it!" she enthused, before showing brief films of "typical" 18-to-34-year-olds that more or less reveled in their shallowness. Afterward, I was speaking to someone who worked for an ad agency who pointed out that none of the three profiled (a college student, a volunteer whose girlfriend buys most of his things for him, a stay-at-home mom) had their own personal income, and therefore wondered why The CW would try to sell these people as typical of the network's audience to advertisers. So even for ostensible experts, trying to figure out the youth movement is fraught with peril.

Though the Fox network is again No. 1 in the advertiser-valued demographic of viewers aged 18-49 and its 2006-07 lineups (one beginning late summer, followed by a revamped January schedule) look fairly solid, I’d have to say its upfront presentation actually felt pretty disastrous. Naturally, everyone taking in these dog-and-pony shows is exhausted and less patient by Thursday, but Fox’s two-and-a-half-hour marathon production, the last of the bunch – which opened with an extravagant musical number headlined by “Family Guy�? creator Seth MacFarlane and featured, among many, many things a pointless, time-wasting marching-band performance of the Fox Sports theme – felt bloated and leviathan-like and even a bit alienating. (Remember, Fox is only selling 15 hours of primetime programming, as opposed to 22 hours from ABC, CBS and NBC, yet its upfront was a full half-hour longer than its competition.)

The most appalling performance came from Fox Sports chairman David Hill, whose rambling, nonsensical diatribe suggested he may have beaten the rest of those assembled in New York – advertisers and other assorted media types – to the bar. He was resolutely incapable of saying the word “Tostitos�? (not good to mispronounce your advertisers’ names), he went way off-script (at least, here’s hoping his words weren’t actually part of the script) and he was alone in finding his antics amusing. Fox Sports is such a juggernaut right now that Hill’s blather will likely go unpunished; had this come from a weaker network, the repercussions might’ve been severe.

Likewise, the network introduced – for the moment, at least – a new late-night show, “Talk Show with Spike Feresten,�? which will follow “Mad TV�? on Saturdays. Feresten, heretofore only a writer (just like Conan O’Brien before his own series, the network hopefully reminded the assemblage) on shows like “The Simpsons�? and “Seinfeld,�? came onstage and did a routine that absolutely bombed. The audience in L.A. watching the New York feed actually began laughing at the utter silence that greeted Feresten’s ostensible jokes, particularly after the feed cut to an African-American woman looking pronouncedly unimpressed after a Feresten gag about Duke’s Lacrosse team. Keep in mind that Feresten’s audience in New York was largely comprised of advertisers who will be considering whether or not to buy time on his show – based on their response to the guy, I can’t imagine any of them dropping cash on it; Fox just might end up canceling the show before it ever airs.

Also curious was a brief standup turn from Brad Garrett, who’ll return in a new sitcom entitled “’Til Death.�? The cutdown of the pilot itself looked pretty promising – Garrett stars with Joely Fisher as a bored, long-married couple whose casual disaffection with the institution of marriage gives the newlywed couple next door pause to wonder. Garrett’s one-liners, however, were surprisingly sour – “Great to see Paula Abdul here today,�? he said; “it’s nice to know that Bellevue has a shuttle bus.�? Ba-dum-bump. And, ewww.

Even the “American Idol�? routine, in which Abdul, Simon Cowell and Randy Jackson judged Fox Entertainment president Peter Liguori’s appearance, was flat. Except for the moment when Simon pointedly noted, “This is the most bored audience I’ve ever seen.�?

As I said, the shows themselves all looked perfectly viable. (The biggest question mark may be “Justice,�? another Jerry Crime-heimer procedural about criminal defense attorneys – will viewers really want to watch arrogant attorneys spring probable murderers? Besides, CBS’s “Shark�? figured out the format far more palatably – the eminently watchable James Woods plays a hotshot defense attorney who, after a crisis of confidence, begins toiling for the prosecution.)

In the past couple of seasons, Fox has made precious few missteps. One of its biggest may have been this curiously arrogant upfront presentation, but given the network’s success, it likely won’t matter.

All that said, Fox’s catering at its L.A. event was the tastiest of the networks'.

When new TV networks emerge, they invariably burble the usual gibberish about their innovative programming, the artistic freedom they’re allowing their creators and the fresh viewing experiences their audiences will enjoy. It's all BS, but it's comforting to know that networks at least recognize that they should tout originality.

Not The CW, which today sold its maiden lineup on the strength of a bunch of old shows. Entertainment president Dawn Ostroff trotted out the network’s fall 2006 lineup, which boasts a mere two new shows amidst seven series returning courtesy UPN (Ostroff’s old haunt) and six programs that survived The WB’s demise.

And the new shows hardly feel new. The sitcom “The Game�? is a spinoff from UPN’s “Girlfriends.�? The drama “Runaway�? (isn’t that Monty Python’s code word for “retreat?�?) is “The Fugitive�? with a wife and kids – it’s about a guy framed for murder who takes his family with him when he goes on the lam. One imagines episodes will go a little like this:

Teen son: Dad, I have a date Saturday night.
Guy framed for murder: No, you don’t, son – the Feds are in town and we’re off to Idaho.
Teen son: Aw, Daaad!

Midseason replacement “Hidden Palms�? (doesn’t that sound like a euphemism for, uh, self-abuse?) is another teen soap opera that looks like all the other teen soaps that have preceded it. (Not surprising as it comes courtesy Kevin Williamson, who’s done a few of these in the past, most notably “Dawson’s Creek.�?)

This feels like a big misstep on The CW’s behalf. Its big moment in the spotlight and the network has boldly declared: We’re going to be just like The WB and UPN; we have no ambitions to grow much beyond them. Ostroff suggests that The CW will do better than its predecessors because it won’t have the competition they had. Well, there will be one fewer network, but if memory serves, there are dozens of other cable networks that target the same youthful audience The CW is after.

The network really needed a big, splashy new show it could call its own, and none of those introduced look up to the task. It had developed a series based on the comic book “Aquaman�? (itself a running gag on “Entourage�?) from the producers of “Smallville�? that could’ve been stylish and ambitious, but declined to give it a series order. What this means is that when The CW launches in the fall, it will have only two shows that are guaranteed any coverage amidst a couple dozen premiering on the other networks. In other words, its debut is in serious danger of being overshadowed by the other networks’ more aggressive scheduling.

CBS's schedule is so ridiculously solid these days that the network only required four new series for its fall 2006-07 season, and only ordered three midseason replacements. Now that's confidence.

And none of the shows look that bad, either. "The Class" comes from "Friends" co-creator David Crane, and can best be summed up as, well, "Friends" with severe neuroses.

"Smith" stars Ray Liotta in a "Thief"/"Heist"/"Hustle" sort of con game with Virginia Madsen co-starring as his wife, who's oblivious to his double life as a master crook.

"Shark" brings the inimitable James Woods (well, actually, I guess a lot of people do pretty fair imitations of him) as a Johnny Cochran-style defense attorney who decides to use his powers for good rather than evil. Woods looks compellingly watchable in this.

The biggest gamble of the bunch -- but the one the network seems to be the most bullish on -- is "Jericho," which'll be a sort of Midwestern "Lost." It's about a small town mysteriously isolated after a nuclear attack; Skeet Ulrich plays a man recently returned to his hometown who, well, you know, has a lot of secrets. Like, who doesn't.

As opposed to NBC and ABC, CBS changed its lineups on strong evenings only to bolster its new shows, not because it had to. For example, CBS bumped its hit "Without a Trace" to Sunday a) because NBC's crime shows are no longer on the evening and b) to give "Shark" the not-inconsiderable "CSI" lead-in. Which means "Shark," barring botched execution (not likely, given its EPs have shows like "24," "Crossing Jordan" and "Without a Trace" on their resumes), should be an out-of-the-box hit.

The network jettisoned its long-running Sunday movie after a season of misfires. Once a staple of primetime, there are now no broadcast networks airing telefilms on a regular basis. They've become a promotional albatross, requiring renewed advertising energy week after week after week, which in such a cluttered media landscape has become a headache apparently not worth suffering.

With so little to hard-sell advertisers at the network's upfront, CBS instead just put on a show -- lots of comedy bits (Mandy Patinkin of "Criminal Minds" singing pop hits from the psychopath's point of view -- "Stranglers in the Night," "Bewitched, Bothered and Beheaded;" "CSI: Telenovelas," CBS CEO Les Moonves and news anchor Bob Schieffer contemplating "Brokeback Network"), lots of singing and dancing. Who'd've guessed a broadcast network would be in such singularly solid shape in this cable universe, and who'd've thunk it would be the one-time Geezer network?

The bad news: They've started selling advertising for the CBS shows you see on airlines. Like those presentations aren't promo-heavy already.

Until last night, Brandon Davis' greatest claim to fame seems to have been his wealthy entitlements as grandson of the late Marvin Davis. Now he's getting some attention for his caught-on-video rant against Lindsay Lohan while clubbing in L.A. with Paris Hilton. (Defamer.com and TMZ.com link to this obscene tirade, but because of his repeated foul language, if you want to see it you'll need to type in an address yourself.) While Brandon blathered on about Lohan's anatomy, apparently stunning the hard-to-shock paparazzi, Paris giggled and held up her cell phone so whoever was on the other end could hear it all. If Lohan were to sue for defamation, given all the video crews recording this foul mouth in action, there would be seriously deep pockets for any settlement or judgment.

In a sharp contrast to NBC's no-nonsense upfront presentation of its 2006-07 schedule on Monday, ABC had plenty of fun with its production; the boldest, most surprising element of the afternoon was Entertainment president Stephen McPherson's sultry cha-cha-cha with a professional ballroom dancer who wore something approximating clothing, plugging, of course, "Dancing with the Stars."

The funniest moment came courtesty "Grey's Anatomy" creator Shonda Rhimes, who decried the constant sex enjoyed by the sundry frisky characters on her series as “Nasty. … I would definitely clean up the place,�? she declared, cuing a filmed fantasy in which the guys from the show -- Isaiah Washington, James Pickens, Jr. and, of course, Patrick Dempsey -- shower together, soaping up one another with what appeared to approach relish. Rhimes soon joined in on the fun.

The indefatigable William Shatner performed yet another "musical" number, and Jimmy Kimmel offered up his traditional evisceration of ABC. Noting that Rosie O'Donnell was joining the cast of "The View," perhaps alongside Star Jones, he marveled: "Star and Rosie, it’s going to be like 'Alien vs. Predator' – whoever wins, we lose." For the next cycle of "Dancing with the Stars," Kimmel suggested, “We’re thinking about using actual stars.�?

ABC can afford to smile, as its hits are huge hits. Everything else, however: huge bombs. Which is why the network really went out on a limb, ordering a dozen new scripted series for next season -- six comedies and six dramas. Ordering a half-dozen comedies (including an hourlong comedy, "Betty the Ugly," from executive producer Salma Hayek) is a particularly brash move given how poorly most of them have been performing of late.

But -- and I can't believe I'm about to say this, given that ABC's current signature sitcom is "According to Jim" -- the network's new comedies seem more promising than its new dramas.

"Betty the Ugly," for example, looks to be a potential charmer, starring America Ferrera as the title character (ugly, of course, only by TV standards -- she has glasses and braces), who's decidedly out of place at the snooty fashion magazine where she works. "Let's Rob..." could be a fun lark; it concerns a bunch of losers who decide to pull off a daring heist of Mick Jagger's schmancy Central Park digs. "Big Day" takes "24's" real-time gimmick to depict a young couple's disastrous wedding day.

Two other sitcoms are a lot edgier than anyone'd expect from ABC, as they both focus exclusively on monumentally screwed-up characters: "In Case of Emergency," about a quartet of losers who try to bolster one another, and "Help Me Help You," about the demented patients of a group-therapy session and their equally lunatic doctor, played by Ted Danson. The least interesting sitcom appears to be "Notes from the Underbelly," which'll offer too much navel-gazing re: the pros and cons of parenthood.

As for the dramas, well, less enthusiasm from these quarters. One of the more promising plays more like a comedy -- "Men in Trees," a "Northern Exposure" redux starring Anne Heche as the author of ill-informed self-help dating books who takes up residence in Alaska, where the male-to-female ratio is skewed in favor of women, if they can stand the men's eccentricities. There are two "Fugitive" knockoffs with goofy gimmicks -- "Day Break" adds the "Groundhog Day" element (Taye Diggs plays a cop framed for murder; he relives the same day that he's framed over and over until he finds the real killer); "Traveler" posits the guy who framed two friends for a bombing as a mystery man with no apparent identity or past.

"The Nine" has an intriguing concept -- survivors of a hostage crisis cope with their survivors' guilt and other disparate emotions together -- and a not-bad cast, but would seem difficult to sustain: Will viewers care if they're still moping about this in season three? And "Six Degrees" apparently has no concept whatsoever, as the network's cut-down for the show didn't even try to explain what it was about. Which, I suppose, is at least refreshingly honest.

After a couple of lackluster years, you gotta give NBC some points for choosing a few potential hits for the coming fall season, including Aaron Sorkin's "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip," which walks the line between drama and dark comedy. At today's Upfront presentation for advertisers, the struggling broadcaster cut short the time given to dazzling the crowd with its series, instead playing up all the online content it will generate. Not all of that mini-programming will be worth the energy it takes to point and click, but the most watercooler-worthy of all its new webisodes...

In the NBC parking lot I left my car to view the network's upfront presentation via satellite, I saw this book on the ground: "Before You Quit Your Job."

Which I suppose sums up the work environment at the once-indomitable, now-beleaguered network.

The network unveiled its 2006-07 schedule today with a lot less of the attendant hoopla it usually musters for this event. Where, in the past, NBC regaled advertisers and media with musical numbers and comedy routines, today, it just trotted out "The Office's" Rainn Wilson ranting in a kind of spooky fashion after being introduced as NBC Entertainment president Kevin Reilly. Later, B.J. Novak, also of "The Office," declared, “I may be the highest paid temp on TV -- except for Kevin Reilly."

Perhaps Novak had a better look at NBC's new shows than we did, because a couple looked genuinely promising. The whole upfront presentation was pretty no-nonsense -- kind of like the gloomy one ABC threw a couple of years back where Stephen McPherson sort of glumly took his lumps, but then introduced "Desperate Housewives" and "Lost." Stars introduced their new series willy-nilly and free of context; Reilly showed up at the end to explain how the scheduling would work (usually, executives present their lineups in an orderly, night-by-night fashion).

The cut-down of Aaron Sorkin's "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" bristled with the same sort of furious energy as "Network," and it features an absolutely unbeatable cast -- Bradley Whitford, Matthew Perry, Amanda Peet, D.L. Hughley, Sarah Paulson, Steven Weber, Timothy Busfield and Nathan Corddry of "The Daily Show." (Although the equally unbeatable Lisa de Moreas of the Washington Post says she hears the pilot is only good, not great.) Tina Fey's "30 Rock" -- also about a network sketch-comedy show -- appears to be pretty funny. Alec Baldwin stars as the president of "NBC-GE-Universal-KMart."

The downside on both of those shows, of course, is that audiences aren't as enthusiastic about shows set in Hollywood as the Hollywood creators who make them are. And can Fey pull double duty and keep up the quality writing for both "30 Rock" (in which she also stars) and "Saturday Night Live" (in which she also stars)?

"Friday Night Lights," adapted from the book and subsequent film of the same name, also seems to hold promise, though the pilot seems overstuffed with incident and, again, sports-themed shows tend to struggle to hold an audience, which is why the network was so careful to insist that it's about community, family, apple pie, ad infinitum, rather than high-school football.

"Kidnapped," a serialized, close-ended series -- it will wrap up its storyline at the end of the year and, if it's still around, cook up new extended plotlines with (many) new characters for subsequent seasons -- faces tough competition from "House" and "The Unit." "Heroes" looks plenty contrived and arbitrary; it concerns a bunch of "ordinary" people with "extraordinary" powers who have to save the world. From what, exactly, is unclear. (Last year's mythology-heavy "Lost" copycats didn't do well; why try to revisit that well?) The John Lithgow-Jeffrey Tambor sitcom "20 Good Years," on the other hand, has a wobbly concept (two guys decide to approach life with a just-do-it mentality) and generic, sitcom-y writing.

Of the midseason shows, "Raines," starring Jeff Goldblum as a detective who chats with the murder victims whose cases he investigates, looks, well, dumb, though he's funny in it. (Does the network really need another "Medium?") The highly touted "The Black Donnellys" from Oscar-winning "Crash" writer-director Paul Haggis, about Irish brothers in organized crime, looks more heavy on atmospherics than anything else (then again, it might be a show so nuanced that a cut-down doesn't do it service). The network didn't offer looks at its midseason comedies, "Andy Barker, P.I.," starring Andy Richter (and executive-produced by Conan O'Brien), or "The Singles Table," which sounds like just another generic "Friends" ripoff.

The network spent an inordinate amount of time touting its new broadband service, which will offer scads of digital entertainment tied into virtually every show on the air, as well as piles of original content. It's breathtakingly ambitious -- in fact, probably way too ambitious; NBC looks as though it's throwing every last damn home movie made by any of its employees online. Web-isodes of "The Office" and Conan O'Brien cartoons look like fun; behind-the-scenes glimpses at "The Tonight Show" and other series just feel bloated and self-indulgent. And when Jeff Zucker announced the online "Celebrity Horoscopes," he declared that it takes people's obsession with stars to a whole new level, which can hardly be considered a good thing. Pretty soon, they'll be filming the people filming the behind-the-scenes sequences and putting that online, too. Maybe they'll film the technies actually uploading the films to the web. What about filming the meetings where they discuss what other detritus they can clog up the cyberworld with?

At the beginning of the 2005-06 TV season, �?How I Met Your Mother�? was a modestly charming series about a hopeless romantic named Ted (Josh Radnor) who meets Robin (Cobie Smulders), whom he believes to be the perfect woman, except for her emphasis on her career. At any rate, at the end of the first episode, we learned that Robin was in fact not the putative mother in the show’s title – they wouldn’t get around to that until they absolutely had to (likely around the time the show manufactured enough episodes to reach syndication).

I haven’t kept up with the show, and it’s received middling if acceptable ratings over the course of the season. But the season finale smacks of flop-sweat desperation. Gag lines are crass, Borscht-Belt-style yoks; the storyline is utterly grasping; even the show’s other characters are exasperated with Ted in this one, and for good reason.

Tonight, Ted decides to make one last push to win Robin’s love. Let’s just say that his behavior is borderline stalker. Turns out Robin’s going on a company camping retreat with a slimy co-worker who’s hot for her.

So how does he decide to prevent this impending tryst? With a raindance. Nope: You read that right. He thinks learning a raindance a) might possibly be successful and b) will win Robin back. Honestly, I don’t know why they don’t find TV critics on their living-room floors across America with their veins opened.

“HIMYM�? – Monday at 8:30 on CBS (Channel 2).

In his enthusiasm about MI: III's 50% second weekend boxoffice drop (not that bad, actually, for a big, front-loaded tentpole entry; but worse, of course, for one that didn't do superwell on its first weekend), my colleague David failed to note other aspects of the across-the-board calamity that was the second weekend of the 2006 summer movie season.

The fickle American movie-going audience has finally gotten sick of Tom Cruise – “Mission: Impossible: III�? dropped a whopping 50 percent in its second weekend, after a much softer than expected opening.

This is clearly a rejection of the star rather than the vehicle – “M:I:III�? is no better and no worse than the same slick, cynical (dare we say “glib?�?) crap that Cruise usually churns out (he’s been in a few surprisingly good movies, but really, not that many). A poll on AOL a couple of weeks ago somewhat shockingly showed that people have really turned on the guy – only 38 percent professed any affection for him. Which surprises me, because people are still fascinated with such dimwits as Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson and Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan (God, there are an awful lot of those interchangeable bubbleheads – can’t we pare a few off the pop-culture rolls?), and they’re arguably far worse citizens than Cruise.

Just as Hugh Grant’s rehabilitation press tour back in 1995 should be taught in public-relations courses, the past year of Cruise’s life should be taught, as well, as an example of how not to conduct a press campaign. As we all know, this public meltdown has been 10 kinds of fun to watch. How many people do you know could actually increase skeptical speculation about one’s personal life through the simple act of dating and impregnating someone? Only Tom. Kudos, pal.

This should create a renewed appreciation for promonatrix Pat Kingsley – her managing to keep a lid on that bubbling cauldron of crazy for as long as she did is a miracle akin to the Virgin Mary’s image turning up on a pancake.

(An aside: I interviewed Cruise for the first “M:I�? movie in his office on the Paramount lot. The interview was scheduled at lunchtime, and there was a huuuge spread of food on a table – enough food, at least, for a party of 12 – and two plates. We sat at the table – Cruise never turned toward the food, and so neither did I – and chatted for an hour or so, the food just sitting there. When it came time for the interview to wind down, Kingsley entered the office and, taking in the spread, enthused to me, “Well, they’re certainly taking good care of you!�? How, exactly, were they doing that: Allowing me to look at a whole big bunch of food? Good care, indeed. One of my stranger interview experiences.)

Anyway, I’m still puzzling over “M:I:III,�? particularly that finale. (Yes, spoiler ahead, as if you care; as if spoilers matter in movies like this.) They establish that stealing the Rabbit’s Foot (coyly but idiotically, they never explain what the Rabbit’s Foot actually is) represents perhaps their most impossible mission ever. Then, the movie goes something like this:

Tom: "Oh, this is going to be hard."
Ving Rhames: "Yeah, this is really gonna be tough."
Tom: "Well, I'm off."
(cut to Tom's other co-stars)
One Co-star: "I wonder how Tom's doing with this most extraordinarily difficult challenge?"
Another co-star: "I hope he's OK, because this mission – well, it’s just off the scale in terms of impossibility."
Tom: "OK, I'm done; come get me."

Huh? Did I attend a screening with a reel missing? When you make a popcorn movie, isn’t that the scene above all others that you’re supposed to show?

As badly as “M:I:III�? is doing, “Poseidon�? tanked even worse: A mere $20 million for its opening weekend, and it even cost more than the Cruise flick. What kind of big-time stars do you get for $160 million? Um, not too much: Kurt Russell, Richard Dreyfuss, Josh Lucas, Jacinda Barrett (who?), Mike Vogel (who?) and Andre Braugher.

I was out of town when Stephen Colbert gave his infamous performance at the White House Correspondents Dinner, but the blogosphere persists in debating whether or not his comic evisceration of the Bush Administration – with President Bush sitting a few feet away – was appropriate.

Initial reports discussed the discomfort in the room as Colbert uncorked such bon mots as, “I believe the government that governs best is the government that governs least. And by these standards, we have set up a fabulous government in Iraq.�? Or, referring to Mr. Bush’s low poll numbers, “We know that polls are just a collection of statistics that reflect what people are thinking in ‘reality.’ And reality has a well-known liberal bias.�?

On the other hand, Colbert – who portrays a blustery, right-wing buffoon on his Comedy Central series “The Colbert Report�? – has become the new darling of the left, which is delighted that he presented such uncomfortable viewpoints to an Administration that seems to wear blinders to alternative opinions. There’s even a new website, ThankYouStephenColbert.org, where admirers can leave messages to the comedian.

If you’ve actually seen the performance, you’re forgiven for wondering what all the tumult is about. Sure, there was some razor-sharp one-liners, but overall, Colbert wasn’t quite as consistently bracingly witty as he is on his show. And the film placing Colbert in the position of White House Press Secretary was way too long. But if the assembled journalists actually did feel uneasy with what Colbert was saying, as was reported, that only proves that they’re far too comfortably ensconced in the Establishment to do their jobs capably. And if Colbert’s jokes really are considered controversial and/or brave, that speaks more to the chilling pall that has been cast over discourse in this country.

Besides, isn’t deflating pomposity what the Correspondents Dinner is all about? Some questioned the propriety of George Bush’s slide show a couple of years ago making fun of the lack of WMD in Iraq. (Bush’s routine this year, with a lookalike standing alongside him and ostensibly saying what was really on his mind, was amusingly self-deprecating.)

Such is the nature of comedy. As it was pointed out recently on “South Park:�? Either everything is a fair target for humor, or nothing is.

It does seem, however, that the artistic community is shedding its timidity and more aggressively questioning our government’s policies. Last year, of course, was George Clooney’s “Good Night, and Good Luck.�?, a thinly veiled evisceration of the mainstream media’s unwillingness to challenge the current Administration in this “Either you’re with us or you’re with the terrorists�? era.

And now, in the past two weeks, two very different protest albums have come out from veteran rockers: Neil Young’s “Living with War�? and Bruce Springsteen’s “We Shall Overcome.�? (Green Day’s “American Idiot�? was the first major release to take on our country’s current anomie, and the Dixie Chicks’ upcoming recording, “Taking the Long Way,�? promises to address their past controversy and perhaps advances the debate, but for the most part, few rock acts seem to possess the requisite p-ss and vinegar to make a political statement. Perhaps, in the era of artists branding themselves with clothing lines and perfumes, the protest album is seen as a quaint relic from the past.)

Young’s quickly produced CD is, of course, a pointed, no-holds-barred assault on just about every aspect of the Bush Administration. (Think of it as a very noisy op-ed page.) Before it was even released, it was considered controversial for its number “Let’s Impeach the President,�? a laundry-list of a song piling up issues on which Young takes issue with Bush. “What if al-Qaeda blew up the levees?�? Young sarcastically snarls. “Would New Orleans have been safer that way?�?

Musically, it’s trademark Young – crunching, guitar-heavy rock. The songs could be more tuneful, and the lyrics understandably have a rushed quality to them, but Young’s passion and sense of urgency and seriousness of purpose as he cathartically vents his spleen seem increasingly scarce commodities in pop music.

By contrast, “We Shall Overcome,�? Springsteen’s tribute to Pete Seeger is a more nuanced, more melodic recording, making use of accordions, fiddles, upright bass and a horn section (including a tuba) to create a perfect piece of Americana. Rather than directly address today’s issues, Springsteen somehow comforts us by reminding us that protesting injustice has always been a proud American tradition. Take heart, Springsteen suggests to us between the lines; these hardships, too, will pass.

In the "Here's your hat; what's your hurry" department, NBC announced that it would not spring for a "West Wing" retrospective episode before its series finale on Sunday.

This, for a series that won the network oodles of Emmys and struggled valiantly to maintain NBC's reputation as a quality network long after "Fear Factor" and "Emeril" and "The Biggest Loser" and "Titans" left that status in tatters. For a series that kept the network high in the ratings for as long as it could muster. For a series that, even when it lost its creative footing, still wasn't bad. For a series that got a highly gratifying second wind this season with some genuinely memorable episodes, even if no one was watching since NBC had relegated to 8 p.m. Sundays, the network's equivalent of Siberia.

For a series that still has one of the best ensemble casts on TV. Until Sunday, at least.

The old chestnut "Nobody Loves You When You're Down and Out" is never truer than in the TV industry. You'd think a network run by Jeff Zucker would be a little more understanding when considering the question, what have you done for me lately?

“All knowledge is precious, regardless of whether it serves the remotest human use,�? declares one character early on in Alan Bennett’s impossibly entertaining “The History Boys,�? now playing on Broadway through at least Sept. 3. Bennett's latest is a bracingly hilarious yet penetrating meditation on the nature of history and education as well as the character frailties that make us human.

Set in the 1980s in Northern England, the play concerns a group of eight young men taking an extra round of tutoring in preparations for tests and interviews to get into the prestigious universities of Cambridge and Oxford. One tutor, Hector (Richard Griffiths), is bigger-than-life in every way – a corpulent man nearing retirement, he flings on a leather jacket to roar around town on his motorcycle.

Hector believes it’s more important to leave his charges hungry for further intellectual pursuits rather than merely preparing them for college. He fills class time with the boys singing pop standards, performing scenes from classic movie melodramas and, in one hilarious scene, conducting a lesson on use of the subjunctive tense in the French language by having the boys enact a scenario in which one hires a prostitute. (You don’t need to know French to get the gist of the scene, but it helps if you understand the subjunctive tense.)

The ramrod Headmaster (Clive Merrison), however, is more interested in the boys’ getting into good schools than receiving treasured life lessons, so he brings in Tom Irwin (Stephen Campbell Moore), a younger, no-nonsense sort who drives the young men toward excellence, which creates frisson for all involved. This is likely enough plot for most dramas, but Bennett – himself a former historian – adds provocative debate (can the Holocaust be discussed without trivializing it?) and moving subplots involving an unrequited love between two of the boys (an autobiographical touch from the playwright) and a brewing scandal at the school.

And Bennett keeps it all light with some wonderfully epigrammatic one-liners. A euphemism, Hector explains, is “a verbal fig leaf.�? Irwin champions archaeology as “the closest history comes to shopping.�? And the dry-as-dust Mrs. Lintott (Frances de la Tour), the lone female teacher we see at the school, decries male dominance by declaring, “History is women following behind – with a bucket.�?

“History Boys�? won scads of awards when first presented two years ago in London. Surprisingly enough, this is the first of Bennett’s plays in 30 years to land on Broadway – it’s at the Broadhurst on West 44 th, incongruously squeezed between “Spamalot�? and “Phantom of the Opera.�? But it does so with élan – every principle cast member of the original production appears here, and it’s impossible to single out a performer, as all draw their characters to perfection. Any trip to New York will be greatly enriched by attending a performance of “The History Boys.�? Tickets available through telecharge.com

I was already winging it to New York by the time my review of the first weekend of the New Orleans Jazz Fest ran in the Daily News last week, so I didn’t get a chance to see it until recently. And so I saw a bit of it had been cut out – nothing new, stories get edited all the time – but I was surprised at what did get excised, so I sent it to a friend, who agreed that it represented valuable local color, particularly for a New Orleans event.

So here’s the passage:

“People-watching frequently supplants onstage action. While sitting close to the main stage on Friday, I spent much of my time beholding the antics of an extended family that had assiduously studied and ticked off the to-do list from some manual for kooky free-spirits:

“Wacky headgear? Check (one member wore a crown with accessorized butterfly wings). Live iguana and its lunch, equally live crickets? Check. Arts and crafts projects? Check (they brought a giant mural and paints and tinkered together necklaces for one another). Interpretive dance during each set? Check. No underwear? Uh – ugh – check. Their flag, appropriately enough, read “pH < 7�? (get it? Science buffs do: It stands for “acid�?).�?

I’m not saying that passage compares with the soaring rhetoric of Milton; it just seemed kind of funny to me and, not to bore you with newspaper mechanics, but a number of editors go through each story looking for errors or inappropriate material, and, naturally, some editors are more conservative than others. (Any cut-for-space argument works for the print edition, but it was also missing from the online edition.) Since this is a blog, I’m guessing anyone who visits here is made of sterner stuff and managed to read the above grafs without blanching (which is better than how I fared after beholding the whole no-underwear thing), but here’s a question: Keeping in mind who would actually be reading a story about the Jazz Fest, is there anything in the above that’s genuinely inappropriate for a family newspaper? Wouldn’t observations like those above make reading a newspaper more entertaining and worthwhile and memorable than kind of watering down everything?

Just asking.

Tonight’s penultimate episode of season one of Prison Break (8 p.m. on Fox) – as Michael (Wentworth Miller), Lincoln (Dominic Purcell) and the other inmates prepare, at long last, to go over the wall and into that good night – is a wonderfully white-knuckle thrill ride that fairly balances the inevitable glitches with the equally expected flashes of dumb luck. People die, the larger conspiracy involving the Vice President (Patricia Wettig) proceeds apace and, well, peril lurks everywhere. Fans should be gratified by the payoff they receive here, though next week’s season finale (which I haven’t seen) could be another story, but the producers have always seemed to have a pretty good rein on their unwieldy storylines.

But here’s the thing. The press release accompanying the screener reads, in part, “We ask that in any review or feature on the series you refrain from revealing key plot developments – especially the identities of who ultimately makes it over the wall, who is left behind at the prison and who dies …�? (To avoid even the possibility of a spoiler, I thoughtfully won’t even finish the sentence.)

Fox’s request is downright modest and circumspect compared to the lunatic note from UPN accompanying the second-season finale screener for Veronica Mars. Hilariously, UPN includes a 14-point laundry list of plot points it wants critics to avoid mentioning in any review or discussion for the show. Among them:

• [Classified] is [omitted] at [censored].
• [Expurgated] tells Veronica that [random character] [did something]. …
• Veronica looks at [noun – this is starting to feel like Mad Libs, isn’t it?] and figures out [something that may or may not be important].
• Anything that reveals that Veronica [blah blah blah].
• [Blank] [blank] [blank]. …
• [A plurality of characters, probably but not necessarily limited to two just to keep you guessing] have sex.
• [Something or someone whose identity is obscured above] is killed by [someone who is not Veronica]. (Should we have not revealed that someone is murdered? Oh, come on, UPN – murders are a time-honored plot device. Let me offer up the murder.) …
• Please do not reveal anything of [what they don’t want me to reveal anything of].

Ad nauseum. So what, aside from the opening title sequence, can be discussed about this episode? And all this hand-wringing for a show that only has about 2 million viewers in the whole country. It’s not Desperate Housewives, guys. (Besides, by listing all that information in the press release, UPN spoiled the whole damn episode for me. Now, I hardly need to watch it.)

I’m of an age where critics just knew, as a professional courtesy – both to the producers of entertainment and the fans who would consume it – not to include spoilers in reviews. That was just understood; we didn’t need to be warned by overly paranoid publicists who protect their programs like they’re the freaking Dead Sea Scrolls to be circumspect. It’s part of being a professional.

Now, with a zillion sources for entertainment news compressing the whole genre into nothing but irritating white noise, there are unscrupulous people out there who want to call attention to themselves in any way possible. Merely being professional in one’s writing and behavior is no longer a guarantee that readers/fans will notice you. The playing field is no longer level, and so real journalists (if, in fact, critics can be called journalists) are treated like children alongside the petulant pests who are more into self-aggrandizement than useful entertainment reportage.

Ruining someone’s viewing experience by uncorking spoilers is the critical equivalent of a chimp flinging its feces about. If someone is interested in that sort of thing (I know, I know – knowledge is power, even if you know something 20 minutes before the next guy), there are specific websites for that sort of thing (though they’re notoriously unreliable – just imagine, dubious information disseminated online). But I’d just like to voice my own offense at publicists telling me how to write my reviews.

UPDATE: I was just perusing the press materials for That '70s Show's series finale, and came upon this not-so-veiled threat: "Because ... details (of episodes were) not leaked, we have been able to provide you with episodes that otherwise (would) have been withheld. ... Our continued ability to send out these mailers depends on your cooperation."

For heaven's sake. The biggest surprise for That '70s Show's finale would be if anyone watched it.

Reportedly, everyone in the TV industry has been poring over galleys of "Desperate Networks" -- a breezy overview of the broadcast-network industry's past six years or so -- for the past couple of months, looking for yummy bits of dirt to digest. Now that the book is available to everyone who wants to peruse it, it seems a bit of a Lean Cuisine entree in the way of surprises.

Carter's previous book, "The Late Shift," came with that hilarious little bombshell that Jay Leno snuck into an NBC conference room and hid in a closet while network executives debated whether he or David Letterman should take over "The Tonight Show" when Johnny Carson retired. Outside of one far less amusingly incendiary revelation -- ABC entertainment chairman Lloyd Braun tried to sell NBC on "Lost" while it was still ABC/Touchstone's property (he feared the network would dump the show, just as it was preparing to dump him) -- most of "Desperate Networks" consists of stuff that has been reported over the years or was more or less suspected or such inside-baseball industry material that ordinary readers probably wouldn't care (in some cases, such as the Les Moonves-Tom Freston dustup over who would control 50.1% of Viacom, even I didn't care). (Curiously and conveniently enough, the book charts pretty much precisely the period I've covered TV for the Daily News.)

Carter, by dint of his position with the New York Times -- and, OK, his talent probably has a lot to do with it, too -- gets a lot better access to the networks' top executives than such lowly grunts as yours truly. So I was surprised that there weren't more surprises in the book. But then, Carter charts the evolution of such hits as "Lost," "American Idol," "The Apprentice" and, naturally, "Desperate Housewives" -- shows appealing to mainstream readers -- and their stories have been pretty well documented elsewhere. It might've been nice if Carter had pursued interesting stories behind lesser-known series or even flat-out bombs -- which can be just as if not more instructive into the industry's sensibility as the hits.

Also, Carter doesn't want to endanger his relationships with the industry's biggest names, so he's not going to make them look too bad. Sure, he mentions the tempers of NBC's Jeff Zucker and ABC's Stephen McPherson, but tantrums are SOP in Hollywood, and anyway, he makes sure they come off looking as savvy executives and programmers (which, considering the condition Zucker left NBC in when he handed the reins to Kevin Reilly, I'm not certain is entirely true, and McPherson's first year of development for ABC wasn't anywhere as successful as the slate of programs he more or less inherited -- I'm just saying). Carter's fairly mum on Katie Couric rumors and even handles Mike Darnell, Fox's evil genius developer of rancid reality programs, with kid gloves (maybe because, as he points out, Darnell is admittedly a pretty charismatic guy who's fairly honest about what he's up to).

In a couple of cases, the book is already outdated, particularly in its drive-by on the current evening-news front -- there's no mention of the tragic injuries ABC's Bob Woodruff sustained in Iraq in January, nor of Katie Couric's final decision to anchor "The CBS Evening News." (Carter pretty much ignores The WB and UPN -- like plenty of critics I know wish they could -- except to note that they will be merging.)

In all, "Desperate Networks" may be a fun read for TV fans who don't closely follow the sausage-factory that is network television, and it's certainly a fast read, but some ickier incidents seem to have been omitted and others kind of glossed over. A book on the TV industry by someone who'd have nothing to lose if the whole warts-and-allness came out would be an even hotter galley item within Hollywood.

Wednesday’s Daily News will contain a review of the first weekend of the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival. Here’s a review of the city itself:

Sad.

That pretty much sums it up. On Thursday and Monday, I drove around the city and was fairly staggered by the city’s condition and how much seems to have gone undone in the intervening seven months. Traffic lights remain tilted at inopportune angles; street signs remain unreplaced, both of which can make things pretty challenging for an out-of-town driver. Piles of debris – the wrecked lives and memories emptied from homes throughout the area – of an enormity unseen since New York City’s garbage strike are ubiquitous. Trashed cars huddle together under freeway overpasses or in medians – or, in at least one case I saw, remain crushed at the spot it was battered by the storms (in a popular area where parking is at a premium). The Superdome looks just as beleaguered as it did last September.

Like a lot of roads in the area, the I-10 is undergoing repairs, the nature of which create traffic jams that bely the notion that more than half of the city’s population has not yet returned. Highway repairs collapsing the I-10 to a single lane resulted in it taking me two hours to get from the airport to my hotel, a distance of 16 miles. (As for the hotel itself, well, you could fairly see the Legionaire’s Disease crusting on the air-conditioning vents.)

Stories abound, about how it took two months to restore phone use to a degree best described as almost reliable, how the Postal Service is just now capable of delivering mail to most of the city, and the phrase third-world country leaps to mind anew.

But the drive out to the ninth ward, on the other side of the levee from Lake Ponchatrain, is the most chilling. (And not because President Bush was out there the same day I was – I drove around for a couple of hours and saw no sign of his vast retinue of aides, drivers, Secret Service guys and reporters scurrying behind, which should give you some idea of how large the area is.)

We’ve all seen the images on TV, but, as usual, TV doesn’t provide a broader context, and that broader context is what’s tough to wrap your head around. Blocks upon blocks upon blocks upon excrutiating blocks of tattered, empty homes with scant signs of life; few people have returned out this way. You can drive for miles upon miles, up and down the neighborhood’s streets – many if not most of which are in terrible shape, with gaping chasms and adjacent slabs of concrete at regrettable angles to one another – past thousands of houses and see no signs of life emanating from any of them, and few if any cars that seem anything close to operable. It’s difficult to process it, to accept it as real; “This has to be a movie set�? is what a lot of people describe as their response.

One thinks about how FEMA had L.A. up and running six months after the Northridge earthquake, when several freeway overpasses had collapsed. New Orleans is in exponentially worse shape, and so the challenges are obviously much greater to the point of overwhelming, and yet the problem seems to have been attacked at a most leisurely pace.

Those who have returned fight the odds with a spirited resolve and a sense of humor about the whole thing. They don’t seem to mind telling you their stories, even if they’ve told them a hundred times before, and they, graciously and earnestly, thank you for simply coming to visit. (How many residents of tourist towns can you imagine doing that?) But talk to them at length, and an exasperation, a frustration, an exhaustion comes seeping through. It’s a weariness borne of hours spent on the phone trying to machete their ways through paperwork and bureaucracy. For New Orleans, Katrina was a perfect storm of, well, a perfect storm and governments more interested in making the tragedy a political issue than effecting meaningful solutions.

After a few hours, though, I was pretty much inured to it all, so that’s what accounts for the lack of empathy or outrage in this account.

Seriously, though, one would hope we could do better for our own; we always have in the past. But the words of more than one reporter covering the catastrophe linger today: “This is not the America I know.�? Perhaps the Jazz Festival will return our attention to the area and more of us will see how much needs to be done and demand it be attended to in a more urgent manner.