TV EYE: Take Ally McBeal -- Please!

By Billy Altman

OK, OK. I recognize that many of you out there in cyberspace have probably been confused about TV EYE's admittedly inconsistent behavior so far this season, and have therefore no doubt been wondering: Have we gone "bi-"? Well, dear browser, while it may have appeared over the last few months that our, er, orientation has changed, please rest assured that such is not -- repeat, NOT -- the case. As you may or may not remember, the e-mail dog ate our fall preview column awhile back, thus setting into motion a frightful chain of emotionally exhaustive inner struggles, the precise details of which aren't really important enough to dwell on in this limited space, except to say that a) we are finally convinced no one's out to get us (at least not while we're awake) and b) we're never going to see that doctor again -- and it doesn't matter how many refills he might have authorized. In any event, TV EYE is back at its post, pledging with firm resolve to meet its monthly responsibilities -- to ATN, to you, and last but certainly not least, to the many creditors whose thorough lack of artistic sensitivity make our humble endeavors so endlessly necessary.

"I find all the "buzz" about ["Ally McBeal"] simply a case of the usual when-in- doubt-just-make-it-up campaign that the Fox Network ... is so good at."

To the task at hand, then, which has us once again returning to the bar -- and not for those fuzzy navels that we've grown so fond of since the aforementioned medications wore off, either. No, we mean the legal bar, one that apparently we just can't seem to get rid of on prime-time television, no matter how hard we try and jump over it. As the recently departed Henny Youngman would say, "Take Ally McBeal ... please!" (For the record, here's my favorite Youngman joke: "My wife and I were in New York City last week/We couldn't believe it/We found a parking spot right on Fifth Avenue/I said, 'Quick, honey, go buy a car.' ") Frankly, I find all the "buzz" about this show simply a case (Lawyers? Case? Get it?) of the usual when-in-doubt-just-make-it-up hype campaign, which the Fox Network -- or, as you know we prefer to call it, given the chummy-wummy relationship between its owner, "Citizen" Rupert Murdoch, and a certain speaker of the House into whose slimy coffers Murdoch tried to funnel a few cool mill just when he was facing those pesky little FCC antitrust laws, the Fox Newtwork -- is so good at. (Did you see, for example, the big face-to-face "showdown" between Nancy Kerrigan and Tonya Harding just before the Olympics last month, an "event" that Fox somehow neglected to publicize too highly and only happened in the first place because they gave each of them a barrel of money to just sit in the same room with each other for 10 minutes, and in the second place was so flat-out dull that not even Jerry Springer could've saved it -- though I would've loved to have seen somebody like him try, instead of one of Fox's dumb, groveling sports shmos who, it quickly became apparent, didn't know a lutz from a toe loop anyway, so why bother making believe it was a sports interview? And I thought Kerrigan's guest-host shot on "Saturday Night Live" in '94 was excruciating!)

Anyway, one thing that really irks us about "Ally McBeal" is the inordinate amount of time spent dwelling on body secretions and excretions. For instance, just what is the deal with having endless scenes taking place inside the law firm's unisex bathroom? Like any woman in the workplace would accept a unisex bathroom to begin with -- let alone a woman who's a lawyer? Puhleeeze. And how about the episode where Ally is riding around with a container of sperm on her dashboard and gets stopped by the cops for going down a one-way street, and the male cop needs the female cop's assistance in determining what the "substance" is, even after he's smelled it! Like the guy's never jerked off in his life because what, he's a cop? Like, what planet are we supposed to assume these characters live on? Cartoon Planet? And, as long as we're on the reality- check front, does anyone really believe Dyan Cannon as a judge? I mean, I admit that, say 10 years ago, if you'd have told me to choose between Dyan Cannon and David Lee Roth as to which one of these identical, separated-at- birth twins would still have a career going 10 years later, of course I would have picked Roth. But a judge? I'd sooner believe Roth playing one. And, speaking of fantasies -- the much-ballyhooed "we're inside her head" daydreams -- doesn't anyone remember the much-missed "Days and Nights of Molly Dodd," wherein Blair Brown did just about everything that Calista Flockhart (what the hell kind of a name is Calista, anyway?) is doing now, only that show was about 10 times as good, and 10 times as believable, in its own fanciful way, as this show even thinks it is? Ally McBeal? Molly McButter's more like it.

"Like, what planet are we supposed to assume these characters live on? Cartoon Planet?"

Well, the old clock on the computer (actually our word-count timer) says it's time to go, but we're not through with these lawyers yet, especially when we've got yet another David Kelley-created lawyer show to give the old third degree. When court resumes, we'll put "The Practice" on the witness stand. Until then, kids, it's recess -- and, please, stay in the playground.