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About meekthegeek

Writer, animal lover, environmentalist, pop culture fanatic, and Star Wars fan.

Beverly Hills 90210

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Forget that mellow-drama running on the CW called simply 90210. This is where it all began. The pilot for Beverly Hills 90210 opens with a typical pilot premise: It’s the first day of school. Two teens, Brandon (Jason Preistley) and Brenda (Shannen Doherty) Walsh are waking up, getting dressed, and preparing to face a new start in a new town. As we learn in some awkward but mercifully brief exposition, they’re from Minnesota. Dad got a new job, and the family moved to Beverly Hills.

We notice a few things right away. Kids from Minnesota get along with their siblings. Teenagers are slobs universally. And the 80s lasted at least until fall of 1990.

The opening credits are endless by today’s standards, comprising a montage of rich kids doing rich kid stuff. Brenda caps it with, “I think we’re going to need a raise in our allowance.” The one small twist is the chick getting off of a City bus. She’s got serious girl hair and glasses, so we know she’s smart. She’s kind of a bitch, too, when Brandon goes to her to offer his talent writing for the student paper, which she edits. Her name’s Andrea, and she’s set up to be either Brandon’s love interest or nemesis.

Brenda instantly befriends Kelly (Jennie Garth), the quintessential SoCal girl with white blond hair and a recent nose job. Kelly emphasizes to Brenda that this is “definitely not your normal high school.” I have to wonder, how would she know? This line sounds more like it’s directed at the networks asked to pick up the show than to the character Brenda. But, despite the underscoring of everything that makes West Beverly so unique, it’s refreshing to see how decidedly normal these kids were in Season 1. The freshmen are awkward. The girls worry about their weight. The jocks pick on the weaklings.

Brandon and Brenda are really likeable characters. They’re a little unsure of themselves, but far more secure than their Beverly Hills counterparts. Loveably down-to-earth. I love when a hot girl asks Brandon what he’s wearing that smells so good and he replies, “Tide?”

The obligatory party scene gives us all we need to know about the key players. Steve Sanders (Ian Ziering) looks like he came straight from playing the rich asshole in a John Hughes movie. The optimistic freshman David (baby-faced Brian Austin Green) provides some comic relief. And the poor little rich girl, Maryann, flirts shamelessly with Brandon. (And, WTF, are those people in the background of this scene playing tennis?) What is surprising, with the benefit of hindsight, is how little we hear out of Donna (Tori Spelling). She’s little more than Jenny Garth’s shadow.

A word must be said about the clothes. At the time this aired I’m sure they were the height of fashion. But today, whoo! Let’s hear it for blazers with shorts. And the hair! What is the semi-mullet thing Brandon is sporting?

By the end of the pilot we know everyone we need to know, save for one… Dylan is yet to be introduced. We pretty much know what we’re in for, and it’s got a nice blend of drama and humor. One wonders how this show morphed into a soap opera dealing with drug overdoses and whatever else went on in the later years. Not to mention the CW nonsense.

John Doe

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John Doe debuted in 2002, airing on Friday nights at 9pm on Fox, a timeslot that is apparently where perfectly good sci-fi shows go to die.

The show opens with a square-jawed, naked man (Dominic Purcell, more recently of Prison Break, and so much cuter with hair) stumbling confusedly around an island. A few quick cuts and horror movie-style sound clips later, he is plucked out of the ocean by a fishing vessel off the coast of Seattle. Despite speaking Khmer and being able to tell the date and time, down to the second, by the position of the sun, he doesn’t know who he is or how he wound up in the water. As the audience, we’re as lost as the character.

Walking aimlessly down the street, Mr. Square Jaw notices a scar or a brand of some sort on his neck (which, although this show came first, reminds me of those marks the characters on Heroes used to find on themselves in Season 1.) It’s sort of a C-shaped thing with a couple of slashed through it. For reasons not yet explained, he sees only in black and white.

The nameless man quickly discovers, as do we, that he is a genius, or a human encyclopedia, or both. He puts his uncanny smarts to work in short order, first dazzling a crowd at a library by answering any question they can imagine. And, I may be over-thinking this, but there is an overhead shot of the library desk and the crowd around it that vaguely resembles the scar.

He gets himself a social security number and names himself John Doe. Before long, John is on his way to financial largesse, putting his brain to work on horse races and foreign currency. But wait, there’s more! Not only is he a brainiac, he’s musically talented, and soon stumbles into a gig playing piano in a bar. So we’re thinking he’s going to land on his feet.

At last through the set-up, we’re vaulted into action when John sees a missing little girl on TV, and her photo is the only thing he sees in color. Figuring that must mean something, he offers his services to the local police. The cop in charge of the missing person’s case lets him help pretty much right off the bat, while maintaining the requisite skepticism.

The mystery unfolds, with John seeing key people and items in color. The question that propels us through is, will John find the girl, or will the girl help him find himself?

With the forensics skills of Temperence Brennan, the learning ability of Chuck Bartowski, and the looks of – wow, I don’t know who – John has it all, as a character. The supporting characters come off as superficial, like the head-scratching cop and the really annoying-yet artistic-young woman who works at the bar with John. Everyone else introduced in this episode is a throw-away.

This isn’t the official pilot of John Doe. There was an unaired version with a different cast. But this one finds the balance needed for an action/sci-fi pilot between giving us enough to be intrigued but not enough to know what the hell is going on. Other shows have done this successfully, only to nosedive (Dollhouse, Journeyman, Defying Gravity) and this show’s fate was no better. Perhaps it was ahead of its time, predating themore successful shows referenced above. Or perhaps it got sucked into the great black hole of cop show stereotypes. I haven’t watched beyond this episode, but if it ended up being just another mystery-of-the-week show, the originality of the premise may not have held up.

The Oblongs

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I think this animated show was on the air for a couple of weeks before it was cancelled. The story goes that it was actually cancelled mid-episode in Australia, because the network got so many outraged calls. It has recently resurfaced on Cartoon Network (and it’s available on DVD), so I thought I’d revisit it.

The first image we see as the pilot begins is a clean-cut man stepping out of a huge, fancy house. He reads the headline of his newspaper, Rich Get Richer, and smiles. Then he flushes his toilet and we, the viewer follow along a pipe down the side of the hill to where the sewage empties into a cesspit. This show is not about the rich people.

One by one, we meet the members of the family living at the bottom of the pipe. Bob Oblong (Will Ferrel) rises and shines. He is very cheerful for a guy with no arms or legs. He notes how cute his wife, Pickles (Jean Smart), is. She has no hair and wakes up still drunk enough that she’s not sure where she is. There are teenage conjoined twins in the shower. Bob reminds them to be thankful for their extra buttock. There’s a daughter who has something that resembles a cross between a penis and a pickle growing out of her head. We know the younger son, Milo, is the real focus since he’s introduced last. He’s busy sawing the foot board of his bed. We’re not told the exact nature of his ailment, but one eye is bigger than the other and he attends a special school. Where he needs a muzzle. Is this ridiculous enough yet? No? The cat smokes. Before you can even process any sense of plotline you are almost overwhelmed with over-the-top, bizarre images. You might be offended, if there were time.

As we head out to the bus stop it only gets worse. Everyone in this valley is some kind of mutant. The kids who go to “normal” school have too many abnormalities to take in at one glance. There are about four of them in assorted shapes and sizes, who hang out with Milo.

At the factory where Bob works he is surrounded by more valley freaks, and the rich guy from the opening, Mr. Climber, is his boss. Bob’s job is using his mouth to screw tops onto bottles of poison. (“The poison tastes different today,” he notes matter-of-factly.) The boss tells Bob that he has filed too many health insurance claims, and if he files any more he will lose his coverage. So, when the twins get in an accident, the family can no longer afford to send Milo to public school. There’s a pretty tasteless joke where the doctor is informed that the boys are conjoined twins. “Oh,” he says, “then it’s not as bad as I thought.” The jokes are like that; so out of left field you can’t help but laugh, tasteless as they may be.

Now that Milo has to transfer, the episode takes on a new-kid-at-school storyline. Like the Karate Kid before him, he falls for one of the popular girls, and gets beaten up by the popular guys. But the story is familiar for all of five seconds. It turns out the popular girl is an alien. She removes Milo’s brain for a quick look-see and then sends him on his way, smitten and outfitted with a tracking device.

We learn that Pickles is from the Hills, but relocated for love. She has a rival in Pristine, a mother of one or more of the popular girls. The popular girls come in a package deal; they all dress and talk the same and have the same name, Debbie.

The fun of this show is how sickeningly cheerful the Oblongs are in the face of adversity. They express worry and frustration at their day-to-day problems, but they don’t dwell on their big problems – the really big ones that are in your face the whole time you’re watching the show. Even the people from the Hills, although they think the Valley dwellers are icky, seem to have adapted to this way of life. That kind of juxtaposition makes the jokes spring up all over the place, like whack-a-moles. If you can get your head around how freaking weird this show is, it’s absolutely hilarious.

Spoiler alert. Milo doesn’t get the girl. His goth little friend burns down his club house, and thinking Milo is dead, the alien girl vaporizes herself.

Memorable quote: “I think I’ll hang around for a while and poke my first love’s remains with a stick.”

Being Erica

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Okay, so this show looked a little cheesy when I saw it advertised while catching reruns of Gilmore Girls on the Soap network. It turns out the show, from the CBC, is a little cheesy, but it has several characteristics that intrigue me. It’s a little bit Wonderfalls (highly educated but dissatisfied chick suddenly has supernatural things happening, pointing her in the direction of her true calling); a little bit Journeyman (lots of sudden trips to the 90s); and a little bit Reaper (protagonist has frequent, unexpected visits from a jerk with supernatural powers who doesn’t feel the need to explain much). Also, Tyron Leitso, who played the recently jilted hottie in Wonderfalls, plays the recently jilted hottie in this. So off we go…

Erica Strange (Erin Karpluk) is 32. She works for an insurance company. She mentions that she still sleeps with her cat, although I can’t recall seeing a cat at any point during Season 1. And, she tells us, she has made an unending series of mistakes that have left her unfulfilled. She gets fired. The guy she has a date with cancels at the last minute. She gets caught in the rain, then has an allergic reaction to some hazelnut coffee. Your basic suck-ass day.

Erica is visited in the hospital by a mysterious therapist who appears out of nowhere and has an uncanny understanding of her sad life alone with her cat (again with the cat). “In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity,” he quotes. Thus begins a long series of quotes that make up the bulk of this guy’s conversation. He leaves his card, but one has to wonder why she would even keep it. Personally I can’t stand those elusive mentor-figure characters who speak in riddles and expect protagonists to follow their instructions without question. In a similar situation I’m sure I’d walk away, but then my story wouldn’t be a television series…

We next meet Erica’s family and friends. For complaining about how much her life sucks, she certainly has a good support system. At least half a dozen people rush over to brunch following her showdown with hazelnuts. It seems though, that she senses strong disappointment from these folks for not having a career or relationship. She runs off to find the therapist, Dr. Tom (Michael Riley). He’s waiting in a typical shrink’s office, dimly lit and lined with books. It could easily be the same set from the shrink’s office in Wonderfalls.

Dr. Tom is a little abrasive, a lot vague, and has no visible credentials. But he promises happiness. And he doesn’t charge. While it’s easy to criticize this story introduction as simplistic, one must admit the need to find happiness can eclipse skepticism, even in a reportedly smart woman like Erica. The show is fantasy – accept it and go along for the ride.

Tom instructs Erica to make a list of all her regrets, and it’s long. It ends with “Leo died.” That’s important later in the series, but we don’t get any details here.

The heart of the show is this. Tom can send Erica back in time to redo events that she regrets. We see by her trip back to a high school dance that these experiences won’t be easier to control the second time around. It’s not really going to be about changing the outcome of certain events. It’s about Erica learning things about herself. In this episode, she has to overcome worrying about what people think of her; a tall order for a high school junior. The flashback stuff is fun, with fashion, music, and slang from the early 90s. “Teenagers are idiots,” Erica declares. What a trip to reflect on yourself as a high schooler with 16 added years of wisdom.

This is just supposed to be a discussion of a pilot, but this is one show where you really have to hang with it. There are deliberate details everywhere that come together later in the season. For a show about time travel, Being Erica is completely devoid of science fiction. No flux capacitors, no Bridge Device. Dr. Tom quickly brushes off Erica’s question about the Butterfly Effect. This a soap opera that just happens to have time travel in it. Though I wasn’t blown away by the pilot, it was different and entertaining enough to keep watching. Let’s be honest. The real hook was, I know a few things about being a 30-something woman who graduated high school in the 90s, earned a literary BA and MA, and can’t find a profitable use for said degrees. And has a cat. (Where the hell is that cat?) So there. Erica is my new best friend.

Party Down

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So excited: I have been searching for a way to watch this show since I heard it existed! I don’t have Starz, but I finally tracked it down online. It shares creators, producers, and actors with Veronica Mars, one of my all-time favorite shows, and has been cited as one the best shows of 2009.

The show opens with a chipper, tuxedoed man (Ken Marino – Tony from Reaper) reciting the really long motto of Party Down Catering. The guy, we learn, is Ron, and he’s in charge of the catering crew getting ready for a party. He is manic about succeeding and earning a great feedback card from the client.

Ron has his work cut out for him; two of his staff are already eating the client’s cheese while rehearsing for an audition. Another is late. Still another was recently fired for masturbating on the job. We know early on that nothing is going to be held back, here.

Henry (Adam Scott) is the new guy. In a pilot, you need a new guy. He and Ron are old friends. We sense right away that Henry has recently experienced some kind of major life setback, but we’ll get the details gradually.

The crew of incompetents making Ron’s life hell include the ever-hilarious Jane Lynch (Glee), Lizzy Caplan (the underrated Related), Ryan Hansen (playing pretty much the same character as he did on Veronica Mars), and Martin Starr (Knocked Up, Superbad). The characters are all showbiz wannabes. Ryan Hansen’s character, Kyle, is perhaps the most fervent in his ambitions, and the hardest to watch, in that he’s so committed to being obnoxious, you’re embarrassed for him (think Michael Scott).

Once the party gets started, we find Kyle hitting on the client’s daughter and Jane Lynch’s Constance having water gun fights with some young guests. This may not be their dream job, but they’re doing their best to have fun at it.

Enrico Colantoni plays the husband of the party-thrower, and he is totally over suburban family life. He drinks to cope with his uptight wife and the smug neighbors and winds up skinny dipping in the pool, to the guests’ horror. He jokes about trading places with Henry, which I’ll take as a hint at things to come in the series.

Eventually we discover Henry’s secret, that his single claim to fame is having appeared in a beer commercial, where he popularized the catch phrase, “Are we having fun yet?” (Sort of his answer, I suppose, to “Whaaazzzz up?”) Now he’s given up acting, and wants desperately to remain anonymous.

In fact, desperation is the name of the game for these cater waiters. Desperation to succeed, to escape, to slog through one more party. And that’s a good premise for lots of funny situations. While this pilot wasn’t fall-on-the-floor funny, it sets us up. We know everyone’s desires. It’s hinted that romance may lie ahead for Henry and Lizzy Caplan’s unhappily married Casey. Cuz you have to have sexual tension. And Ron seems very close to snapping. And a Joey Lauren Adams guest appearance awaits. Plus, knowing that people like Paul Rudd, Dan Etheridge and Rob Thomas are behind the scenes, I am eager to keep watching.

UPDATE 1/10/2012: Megan Mullally has confirmed that a Party Down movie is in the works!

Better Off Ted

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Better Off Ted opens with a commercial. It’s got lots of dramatic photography of dams, satellites, and cows, and a calm, confident-sounding voiceover explaining Veridian Dynamics.  It sounds like Veridian does some serious stuff, except there are some incongruous details. “Everything we make, makes your life better,” the calm woman says. And then we see a bomb destroy a building. It’s sort of a heavy-handed way to bring in the audience, but they insert these “commercials” into a lot of their later episodes. It sets the stage for a wacky, slightly disturbing comedy skewering corporate America. And that’s what you get with Better Off Ted.

We get right to the point. “I have the best job in the world,” Ted (Jay Harrington) tells the camera. He explains what he does, how long he’s been doing it, and who helps him get it done. Ted is the head of Research and Development, Veronica (Portia DiRossi) is his boss, Lem and Phil are scientists, and Linda manages product testing. We also find out early on how the company messes with its employees; they’ve placed the toilet paper in the stalls just out of reach, to encourage people to use less of it.

So we get all those back story details out of the way, and we’re on to Ted’s conflict for this episode. He has to talk Phil into being frozen for an experimental procedure.

Ted has a precocious daughter, Rose, who serves as his conscience. The kid, in effect, winds up saving Phil’s job.

Linda is somewhat new at the company, but it almost seems as if she’s never had a job before, saying things like, “All companies do stuff like this, right?” Nonetheless, she is the normal one in the office, the one easiest for the audience to connect with.

Ted and Linda kinda like each other, but Ted has had a fling with Veronica, and he has a one-time limit on intra-office boot-knocking. His scruples rear their heads at the strangest moments.

The really twisted part about this show, which comes on strong in the pilot and doesn’t let up in subsequent episodes, is the employees’ loyalty to Veridian. They know they’re being treated like pawns, yet they revel in the lab rat race. Phil goes willingly to the cryogenic chamber; Veronica is practically orgasmic at the thought of abusing people in the company’s name. The pilot leaves one wanting to sympathize with Ted and Linda, maybe even hoping for them to get together, but then they’re not exactly role models either.

Sit Down Shut Up

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This is a loveable little show that flies under the radar. When it disappeared from the Fox Animation Domination line-up after only a few episodes, I thought it been canceled for good, but then it turned up at midnight on Saturdays. Guess it was too offensive for prime time viewing. I don’t see how it’s any worse than Family Guy and American Dad; in fact it skips the cheap fart jokes and goes for the more nuanced vulgarities.

Before you even watch an episode, you can expect great things based on the cast; Kristin Chenoweth, Jason Bateman, Kenan Thompson, and Will Forte, for starters. If the cast isn’t enough to grab you, the animation should be. The show uses hand drawn animation against live action backdrops. It messes with your head a little at first, and almost allows you to forget you’re watching an animated show.

So the pilot opens with a road sign telling the audience this is Knob Haven, FL, population 9,334. It is, the sign says, “As pretty as a picture except for the people.” And below that, “You get used to it.” Okay, I had to pause the video to read all that, but that’s the kind of little joke that is buried throughout for those willing to look.

Within seconds we have a nutsack joke—although English teacher Ennis Hoftard is referring to an actual sack of nuts. Ennis wears a bicycle helmet all day. Each of the eccentric teachers at Knob Haven High School is introduced by his or her yearbook entry, with name, subject, and catchphrase. Each is a loser of the highest order, in his or her own colorful way. There is simply too much wackiness flying out of this show to keep up in one viewing. Watch it at least twice.

There is a new principal (Kenan Thompson) at KNHS, a no-nonsense African American woman who—like most of the other characters—isn’t in it for the love of the kids. Her catchphrase is “No.” She announces to the teachers that heads are about to roll. The budget is being cut since the school performed badly on No Child Left Behind standards. The lone ray of sunshine in a bunch of perfectly miserable people is Miracle Grohe (Kristin Chenoweth), a neo-hippie/creationist single mother on whom the sun always seems to shine. Natch, one of the other characters, the P.E. teacher, Larry “I don’t like to say my last name” Littlejunk (Jason Bateman), has a mad crush on her.

There is a drug scandal, in which some unidentified pills are confiscated from a student’s locker. Miracle, the science teacher, asks God to tell her what kind of pills they are. Sue figures, if they should happen to be steroids, she can use them to enhance the skill of the football team and therefore, alumni donations. Only they’re not steroids, the vice principal, Stuart “I need a catch phrase” Proszakian, takes them, and, well… things go awry.

It is refreshing to see high school life viewed through the eyes of the adults. This has been attempted here and there, as with the canceled Miss Guided, and on Glee, but I have never seen it done with such joyful irreverence. (Actually, if Sue Sylvester finally gets fired from William McKinley High she should take the first bus to Knob Haven.)

In addition to being ROTFL ridiculous, the show delivers a bit of social commentary, with its references to public school funding and a joke about the current U.S. political climate. Where it really pushes the envelope is with its near constant references—with varying degrees of subtlety—to student/teacher sex.

Larry: “I always ending up blowing it, like the stupid P.E. teacher that I am.”

Stuart: “I could never even get my P.E. teacher to do that.”

Is it wrong that that’s funny? Maybe, but Sit Down Shut Up doesn’t give you enough time to dwell on it, since it’s on to the next bit in the time it takes to slam a kid’s head in his locker door.

Favorite teacher catchphrase:  Willard Deutschebog (Henry Winkler) – “If I believed in reincarnation I’d kill myself tonight.”

Community Ep. 1.12

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Okay, so this is not a pilot, but I have to gush about this most recent episode of Community, “Comparative Religion.” If you are new to the show, this would be a great episode to start with because, in fact, it has all the elements of a pilot. Each member of the ensemble cast is featured more or less equally, and we get to learn what each one is like. And it’s set on a day that will be a turning point for all of them—passing Spanish 101.

It’s the last day of classes at a Greendale Community College before the winter break; we know all of this from a brief announcement by the bumbling Dean. This is much the same as the opening scene of the pilot. Through his portrayal of “Mr. Winter,” a religion-neutral holiday character, we get the message about the school’s obsessive PCism. The scene really captures the insanity of this show.

The episode revolves around a holiday party, being planned by Shirley (Yvette Nicole Brown), a recently divorced, middle-aged student who professes her strong adherence to the true (i.e. Christian) meaning of the holiday season. By each character explaining his or her beliefs or lack thereof, we get a well-rounded and hilarious picture of this ragtag group of Spanish students. There’s the Jehovah’s Witness, the Atheist, the Agnostic, the Muslim, the Jew—ahem, the Jewish woman — and the claims-to-be-Buddhist-but-is-apparently-just-in-a-cult guy. I’m disappointed that there’s no Pagan, but it’s a fun mix anyway. It’s the perfect set-up for grossly offensive humor. And it works because, for all their differences, these people are all friends, who operate more like a dysfunctional family.

The show also has a running gag of parodying 80s movies. When Jeff (Joel McHale) is challenged to a fight a tough guy in the cafeteria, we’re reminded of any number of films where the main character is challenged to a schoolyard brawl, and his friends are by his side to help him prepare.

The group is divided over Jeff’s choice to fight; Shirley thinks it violates the Christmas spirit (even though it’s only December 10), and Britta thinks it represents repressed homosexuality. These are typical responses by both of these characters that have been reinforced throughout the fall season. Of course it all has a hooray-Christmas-is-saved ending, but with a hilarious twist that further emphasizes the characters’ kinship and the show’s irreverence. Lessons are learned, but the characters remain as crazy as ever.

I was a little skeptical about this show’s promise when it debuted in September. But it has turned out to be consistently entertaining and out-of-the-box, culminating in a fantastic fall finale. You have to buy into the premise that these seven people would hang out together in the first place, but if you can do that, it’s totally worth it. I just have one question… what ever happend to John Oliver’s character?

For added laughs, check out the Greendale website.

Memorable quote: “As much as I hate you and the cast of Breakin’, I have to ask myself, ‘what would Shirley do’?”

Pilot Episode of… wait for it… Doogie Howser M.D.

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Oh, the multitudes of pop culture jokes this show spawned. But once upon a time in 1989, it made its debut. The show opens with a 16-year-old kid taking his driving test in a Volvo station wagon. His overbearing mother has tagged along. When they see an accident ahead of them, the kid speeds up and jumps out of the car to assist. He amazes the police officers on the scene by taking charge and adjusting the victim’s leg to restore circulation. It’s a great, surprising opener that lets the viewer know all he or she needs to know. The opening credits fill in the details, with newspaper headlines about the child prodigy, Doogie Howser (Neil Patrick Harris), acing the SATs, graduating from Princeton, and becoming an M.D. all by age 14. And for an extra flourish of heroism, there’s one about how he delivered a baby in a mall. Nothing says 80s teenagerhood like a mall.

Next, Doogie is at the hospital, and we get a feel for the workplace dynamic. This is followed by a scene at home, where we see Doogie’s life as a normal teenager, goofing around with his buddy and making big plans for the upcoming school dance.

It’s a story of contrasts; the “regular” kid living in the same body with the genius medical professional. The poor kid gets pressure from all sides. His parents hassle him like all parents of teenagers, plus patients and other doctors don’t always take him seriously. (And he’s cute as a button!) Over dinner, his father speaks the theme of the show: “Emotional maturity is not a function of genius, it’s a function of experience.” We, the viewers, are going to be along for the ride as this young man gains some of that experience.

It’s got it’s amusing moments; Doogie’s horny boy banter with friend Vinnie (Max Casella) is, if not predictive of the Bro Code, at least typical of adolescent boys, and what’s not funny about that? And Doogie and Vinnie’s revenge scheme on doctor who embarrassed Doogie is a good chuckle. But this isn’t a laugh-out-loud kind of show. We get a sad story about how Doogie had leukemia as a child and went through chemo. He shares his experience with a sick child in need of a heart transplant. The tone is actually quite Scrubs-like, humorous moments contrasted with serious ones. There’s even a goofball musical sequence of Doogie getting dressed for the dance to Tone Loc’s “Wild Thing.” It’s followed soon by, in real Scrubs fashion, a heart-wrenching patient death. Doogie ends the episode typing into his computerized diary, “Kissed my first girl. Lost my first patient.” Again, contrasts. Also these experiences being firsts, it’s the right place in this character’s life to start telling his story.

I think I only ever watched this show once or twice when it aired, and I’m sure I had never seen the pilot. As a NPH fan, I was so excited to find that it’s now on Hulu. It’s fun looking at it through the lens of subsequent shows, but even standing alone, the pilot promises a sweet, touching, and unusual show.

Scrubs [Medical School]

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So this isn’t exactly a pilot, but the first episode of the “new” Scrubs, which AdAge has dubbed “the show that won’t die” can almost be treated as a brand new show.  Scrubs, the half-hour dramedy about life as a medical intern, then resident, then doctor, has had two “series finales,” and here it is again, albeit in a slightly different incarnation. This time, the docs—yes, the same ones—are teachers. It’s still technically called Scrubs, but the title in the opening sequence is Scrubs [Medical School]. Early on, J.D. (Zach Braff) declares, “I hope I can find a way to make this all feel new.” We do too.

It’s been a whole year since J.D. (Zach Braff) has worked with Turk (Donald Faison), Elliott (Sarah Chalke), Perry (John C. McGinley), and the gang. Not sure what he’s been doing for the past year, other than getting Elliott, his now wife, pregnant. Carla is missing, and her absence isn’t addressed. There is also no sign of Jordan, but she was never on regularly anyway. Some of the characters introduced in Season 8, after the show was revived that last time, are back as well.

Early on when get an answer to “whatever happened to the janitor?” The show assumes prior knowledge of its earlier incarnation, with lots of recurring jokes, but then, the characters have always been so distinctly drawn, it doesn’t take much work even if you’re coming in cold—like, if you’ve been living under a rock.

J.D. approaches his first day teaching with the same wide-eyed, can-do attitude that he brought to his first day as an intern. Natch, he wants to succeed so badly that he makes an ass of himself. He makes his students mix tapes and signals them to take notes by displaying jazz hands.

And in case the old cast is a little long in the tooth for your viewing pleasure, there’s a new J.D. She is Lucy, a new intern who, just like J.D., has managed to land squarely on Dr. Cox’s bad side. Just to make sure everyone is good and miserable, Dr. Kelso is still there, crotchety as ever. (Didn’t he retire?) Also there’s a older (30ish) student, and an asshole rich kid whose father help pay for the building, so he can get away with murder.

Some things are re-established: the campy man love between Turk and J.D. Dr. Cox’s callous teaching methods. The unpredictability of hospital life.

J.D. is still desperately trying to get Dr. Cox’s approval, which is a little tedious after eight years, and especially after their big breakthrough in last season’s finale. But at least now, we see that he can pass on the benefit of his experience to someone new, Lucy.

We end with the obligatory sad-reality-of-the-medical-profession moment when a patient with whom Lucy connected dies. So despite some changes in scenery, we have much the same show. Supposing you were experiencing this cast of characters for the first time, they would likely seem appealing in their flaws, and capable of providing plenty of laughs.

It seems the episode titles will now all start with “our” instead of “my,” as in “My First Day,” the title of the pilot. Maybe this is to indicate more focus on the ensemble nature of the show than on J.D. as protagonist. It doesn’t seem this way based on this first episode, though. Time will tell if this show still has life in it, or if the plug should be pulled once and for all.