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May 6, 2004
The O.C. Or should I say, Dawson's O.C.
It happens every time The O.C.'s writers try to make a point about class in America, or try to be poignant, or moving, or meaningful. They fall flat on their face. Or, to be more specific about last night's season finale, they just borrow a page from Dawson's Creek (note to O.C. staff--if you're going to rip off earlier, lesser shows, at least pick Melrose Place. It's more your style.) Angsty long-suffering blonde boy playing the martyr and spending the summer in some crappy city? Check! Funny but self-deprecating dark-haired boy sailing off in a smallish boat to places unknown with nothing but the polo shirt on his back? Check! Hopefully the O.C. writers will not feel the need to also go down the "punish the sluts" route and kill off Theresa, but it might clear up that whole pregnancy problem.
Perhaps this show, which started as a summer premiere, would be better off only airing shows during the summer. That way, we'd get all the beach parties and girls in bikinis and debauchery in Vegas, and none of those boring plots involving school or dying grandmothers. In any case, writers, the strength of this show is the style, not the substance. Please, keep the fluff coming next season.
