Last season of Revenge ended with Emily Thorne getting the most revenge of anyone who has ever revenged. In any other story, that would be the end, but Revenge is never ending. Revenge is double infinity.
Last night ABC debuted its highly buzzed-about sitcom, Black-ish. Starring Anthony Anderson (Law & Order, Guys With Kids) and Tracee Ellis Ross (Girlfriends), the show follows Andre "Dre" Johnson, the patriarch of an upper middle-class black family, as he attempts to raise his kids in a suburban neighborhood (read: white) without having them lose a grip on the richness of their (black) culture.
Dr. Karen Kim is the best thing about Mistresses—itself the best thing about Alyssa Milano—and she is also a complete, person-killing disaster. These two facts compliment each other, which you wouldn't expect. As of this week's episode, Karen is an escort. At least a bad one. She has previously been: an accomplice to insurance fraud, an accomplice to homicide, and yes a mistress.
Alyssa Milano went to an art gallery for a "pop-up show" that had garbage cans that were on fire so she could talk about Lena Dunham and take selfies because of a man. I have no way of knowing if Mistresses is now being written mostly by word-association—Monday's episode, "Rebuild," was credited to Rina Mimoun, who created Privileged and ran Everwood in its final seasons and so deserves our respect, dammit—but it feels like it sometimes, mostly. These ladies, our ladies, who used to be worrying about blackmail and death and sperm, now worry about charming Soleil Moon Frye or catching an Uber at the end of the night.
Did your Aunt Gladys write the last episode of Black Box? Come on, you can tell me. "She's fifty and lives in a trailer with four corgis" you say. "She no longer drives her school bus route because of a bunion on her driving foot, which she bathes of an evening in oatmeal and Epsom salts. So how would she be writing for ABC's cutting edge medical drama Black Box??"
The Bachelorette has now been on for ten glorious (?) seasons. Let's give it a round of applause everyone. Confession time: I have never watched an episode prior to this, and my only real knowledge of the franchise comes from being a youth in the Trista and Ryan era and the existence of Burning Love. So I really had no idea what to expect going into this.
Today marks the end of a delirious old-timey End Of The World party for advertisers and the swiftly dying ratings system on which they base their careers, called the upfronts, which is an industry term meaning "making TV stars act like carnies in front of suits that don't care because they are drunk." Here's a short rundown of the major nets' fall schedules—the downlow on the upfronts, if you will—for us to chat about:
Someone has got to shut the Black Box hospital down. Heavens to fucking Betsy, things are seriously out of hand over at "The Cube." A spastic chess player knocked out an orderly, stormed into a psychiatrist's room, broke the ceremonial dagger she keeps in her office out of its case and held her at knife point, and that was not even the craziest thing that happened. Here I thought my crazy days at the office were stressful! (My office is not a brain hospital, it's me sitting under an outdoor table at a Starbucks by the freeway.)
Regarding the title of this piece, the proposals are obvious. The funeral is mine, because the last five minutes of the Nashville finale killed me dead! I am writing this from beyond the grave! First there was that Gunnar and Scarlett song, and THEN: "It's Maddie, and Daphne, and you… and me." #dead #death #dying #imeanit #freakindeacon
If you've ever gotten your hands on a human biology type of textbook and pored over all the types of mental disorders the genetic lottery can splash into your brain chemistry like a hellish Spin Art machine (like face blindness, holla at me Brad Pitt), you'll be drawn to the premise of Black Box, a "limited series" procedural focusing on the sort of brain problems that make for unsettling visual effects. YES, let's use CGI in decadent, spicy ways like Taco Bell for eyeballs! So far, so great.