Posted on 11/14/2003 5:35:18 PM PST by Tumbleweed_Connection
THE COMPARISONS of Fox's new series "The O.C." to "Beverly Hills, 90210" are inevitable. Like its predecessor, "The O.C." is an hour-long drama featuring an out-of-towner main character the show drops in the midst of the problems suffered by wealthy, attractive teens in Southern California. This time around, though, the backdrop is farther south in Newport Beach, Orange County. And instead of watching the culture shock through the eyes of Minnesota transplants, "O.C." viewers see it through Ryan Atwood (Benjamin McKenzie), a 16-year-old from unglamorous Chino, California. In the series premier, Ryan steals a car with his older brother Tray. ("If I don't teach you this, who will?" Tray asks a hesitant Ryan as he smashes the car's window with a crow bar.) When they're caught, Tray goes to jail while the underage Ryan is sent home. But after his alcoholic mother's boyfriend beats him up, Ryan is taken in by his attorney, Sandy Cohen, (Peter Gallagher), and gets to live the good life in Newport Beach with Sandy and his real-estate executive wife Kirsten (Kelly Rowan). Kirsten balks at first, but luckily Ryan turns out to be one of those nice-to-everyone, morally superior--albeit brooding--delinquents. At the Cohen house Ryan negotiates a brother-like relationship with their nerdy son Seth (Adam Brody), clashes with the rich kids of Orange County, and falls for Marissa, the beautiful, but troubled girl-next-door whose privileged lifestyle is threatened by her father's entanglements with the SEC. And like Brandon and Brenda Walsh before him, Ryan finds that rich kids can be messed up. There's drug use, drinking, fist fights, guns, eating disorders, and sleeping around in "The O.C." Often all in the same episode. And like "90210" and other soap operas, everyone is connected in some way so there is potential for plenty of plot complications. But there are some key differences. While both shows acknowledge that not everyone in Southern California is rich (although everyone is really good looking), no one in "90210" was ever sneered at for not coming from a posh neighborhood. (Andrea Zuckerman, one of the original eight characters, lived in a tiny apartment with her grandma.) In "The O.C." there's palpable class tension and an anti-outsider mentality. At a beach party when it is exposed by Seth that Ryan is from Chino, all the new friends he thinks he has made begin to avoid him. Similarly, the new girl at school is instantly unpopular with Marissa and her friend Summer's crowd since she's from Pittsburgh. "Yeah, I think I've heard of [Pittsburgh]," Summer says when introduced to the girl from back East. "The O.C." is also a more of a multigenerational show, a major departure from "90210," which eventually wrote the Walsh parents out because they had nothing to do. Executive producer Doug Liman has said the show will be, "two-thirds . . . about the younger characters," leaving plenty of room for grownup plot lines. As far as I can tell, there are three ongoing conflicts involving the parents. First, Sandy's wife, Kirsten, and Marissa's father, Jimmy Cooper (Tate Donovan), have a storied romantic history, and he clearly still has feelings for her. This is all complicated by the fact that they are next door neighbors. What's more, it's frequently brought up by Jimmy's wife, Julie, that he only married her and not Kirsten because she got pregnant. Second, Jimmy's embezzlement has left his family bankrupt and they now have to cope with a downgraded lifestyle and the possibility that Jimmy could go to jail. Third, the interests of Kirsten's corporate law firm have started to clash with those of her husband's environmental firm. All of which makes for pretty compelling television. BUT "THE O.C." ISN'T all dramatic adult relationships and class issues. There's a lot of fluff, too. So far there's been a fashion show, a "coming out" country club cotillion, and a Vegas-night themed party at the Cooper home. Best of all is the jocks-versus-nerds theme, which is how Seth and Ryan are beat up at the beach by Marissa's boyfriend, Luke, who afterwards shouts, "Welcome to the O.C. bitch! This is how it's done in Orange County." It should be noted, by the way, that Luke is about as street tough as Sean "Puffy" Combs. Some of the quips may be unintentionally humorous, but if nothing else, the writing is otherwise fantastic. The writers capture the self-important air and often ironic understatements privileged teenagers make while trying to sound authoritative. And there are some great one liners: "Why didn't you fly to Tahiti?" Summer asks the new girl at school. "Everyone knows sailing is so not the fastest way to get anywhere." Some of the dialogue is quite witty. "He's going to athletically accomplish all that your Jewishness has prevented me from doing," Seth tells his dad after Ryan makes the soccer team. And while bordering on maudlin, some of it appeals because of its angst: "Where I'm from, having a dream doesn't make you smart," Ryan tells Sandy. "Knowing it won't come true does." Because that's how they do it in the O.C. Rachel DiCarlo is an editorial assistant at The Weekly Standard.
When the hell is that final earthquake due?
You call that a pool? Looks more like a pond to me.
(Obligatory Caddyshack plug:)
Bill Murray: "You got a pool over there?"
Chevy Chase: "We have a pond in the back. We have a pool and a pond. The pond would be good for you."
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