My very personal list of top twelve shows of 2011 (one for each day of Christmas). Be careful; spoilers included…
12) The Killing (AMC): OK, so I'm a contrarian: maybe I'm just touting this show because 99% of the free world screamed for the head of producer Veena Sud in the aftermath of the season finale, which not only didn't identity Rosie Larsen's killer, but ended with the controversial revelation that Seattle copper Stephen Holder was apparently duplicitous. For me, the twist reinforced the show's Northwest noir ethos: no one could be trusted. Imagine how delighted I was then to recently read this quote from Homeland producer Alex Gansa, in reference to The Killing: "The fact that some viewers were dissatisfied with their finale is a cautionary tale only insofar as a bold storytelling choice is sometimes unpopular."
11) Bedlam (BBC America)/American Horror Story (FX): Nice to see the horror genre meaningfully transcend the pretty-young vampire/witches/werewolf thread that has so dominated since Buffy, thanks to these two haunted-house skeins (not that the British Bedlam—a weird amalgam of Melrose Place and Sixth Sense—doesn't have plenty of pretty young people of its own). I'm taken with Bedlam's Kate, a remarkably nasty iteration of her archetype—the comely young damsel in distress. American Horror Story —totally outrageous in just the way you'd expect from the makers of Nip/Tuck and Glee —likewise brims with unsavory characters (most of them, it turns out, dead), but it does have Connie Britton, and beyond that it's just freakin' scary.
10) Fringe (Fox): I've opined at length already about this soulful X-Files derivative (and I mean that in the most flattering way possible), which seems forever on the verge of cancellation, but what impresses me most about it now, in the midst of its fourth season, is how the writer/producers constantly reinvent it, introducing alternate realities and characters, at great risk but with great reward. Put another way: nobody's phoning it in.
9) Parks and Recreation (NBC): For Party Down obsessives like myself, any show that gainfully employs Adam Scott is celebration-worthy, but Parks and Rec's ensemble cast is so deep it's hard to find everyone the screen time they deserve (Aziz Ansari seems particularly underused , though, I don't know—maybe I just can't get enough). Here is character comedy at its best, and new ones just keep popping up—first Ben Wyatt (Scott) and Chris Traeger (Rob Lowe, in a career-redefining role), then the truly loopy Jean-Ralphio (Ben Schwartz). Big creative challenge ahead: now that Ben and Leslie (Amy Poehler) are officially together, can they still be funny? Speaking of funny, check out this P&R/Twin Peaks title-sequence mash-up.
8) Bored to Death (HBO): Season-three's final moments filled me with dread—not because Jonathan (Jason Schwartzman) was locking lips with a chick he knew to be his half-sister, but because of the sinking feeling that I may never again experience the joy of watching Schwartzman, Ted Danson, and Zach Galifianakis incarnate Bored to Death's staggeringly infelicitous trio of protagonists, due to a precipitious ratings drop (which, alas, turns out to be true, now that HBO has canceled the show). Jonathan's absurd predicaments (remember when he showed up in George's office in a latex bondage suit, after the magazine had been purchased by religious fundamentalists?)…Ray's relentless suffering for his love of Leah…George's weed-fueled botched rescue operations…most of all, the truly poignant bond among three incorrigible man-children—somehow life always seemed a little less bleak after a dose of Bored to Death.
7) Justified (FX): Woo-hoo! Season three of Elmore Leonard's Kentucky lawman series is (finally) in sight (January 17), and while I'll miss the demented machinations of sinister (and now deceased) hillbilly mama Mags Bennett and her three-stooges sons, we still have those transcendent interactions between U.S. Marshall Raylan Givens (Timothy Olyphant) and his ever-erratic nemesis Boyd Crowder (Walton Goggins), to look forward to. Pass the moonshine!
6) Parenthood (NBC): Is Jason Katims television's most underhyped producer? He's now transformed two theatrical films—first Friday Night Lights and then Parenthood —into thoughtful, artfully crafted TV series defined, above all, by emotional authenticity. If I cared at all about awards, I'd wonder why Parenthood has never been nominated for an Emmy, why Peter Krause garnered three nominations for Six Feet Under but has none for Parenthood, and why Monica Potter—whose performance as Kristina Braverman seems utterly devoid of glamour, ego, or artifice to me—has never been rewarded, but really…who cares? Surely these people know they're doing exceptional work?
5) Homeland (Showtime): Everybody's got a secret, sonny.
Has there ever been a darker episodic TV "hero" than Carrie Mathison (Claire Danes), a brilliant yet utterly tortured CIA agent, whose emotional pain becomes so debilitating that she voluntarily undergoes shock treatment? Meanwhile, Marine Sergeant Nick Brody (erstwhile Band of Brother Damian Lewis) battles demons of his own, having been turned into an Al-Qaeda sleeper agent after eight-plus years as a prisoner of war in Iraq. Homeland is a mesmerizing brew of character drama and suspense, nailing the post-9/11 zeitgeist with its depiction of a complacent world where people have simply grown weary of the war on terror.
4) Archer (FX): "The funniest show currently on TV," the Paley Center's Arthur Smith wrote last year; no argument here, but Archer scaled new heights in March with a stunning two-episode cancer arc that somehow managed to be irreverent, hilarious, and poignant, all at the same time. Loved the Magnum, P.I. homage; who would have figured Delaney for a Regis guy?
3) The Walking Dead (AMC): "How AMC can revive The Walking Dead from its season 2 slumber" denofgeek Tweeted. What slumber? Granted the action has been less fast and furious this season, and walker sightings fewer and far between, but the character development—particularly involving Daryl (Norman Reedus) and Shane (Jon Bernthal)—has been masterful. Redneck Daryl's episode-four presentation of the Cherokee rose to Carol surely ranks among the iconic moments of the series, and the explosive final moments of the midseason finale—how many shows would have had the nerve to resolve the search for Sophia thusly—were particularly impressive in their assertion that no matter how dark and angry Shane has become, he was, in this case, one hundred percent correct. Now can we please find out what Dr. Jenner whispered in Rick's ear at the end of season one?
2) Game of Thrones (HBO): Read all about it.
1) Community (NBC): I don't want to overstate my case, but has any other network comedy ever been so committed to formal and conceptual innovation—anime, stop-motion animation, stealth homages to My Dinner with Andre and Hearts of Darkness, a faux clip show, the bottle episode devoted to who swiped Annie's pen (Troy's monkey), and on and on and on—while simultaneously—and unabashedly—embracing the most conventional of all sitcom maxims: you gotta have heart? Exhibit A: "Remedial Chaos Theory," in which Jeff (Joel McHale) inadvertently creates seven alternate timelines during a game of Yahtzee by throwing a die to determine who will go downstairs to let the pizza man in. The episode, which I maintain ranks among the greatest in sitcom history, is hilarious, thought-provoking, character-incisive, and, ultimately, meaningful. All I want for Christmas is another season of Community.
knows there's one Northwest Noir show that rules them all, and by that I mean McLean Stevenson's Hello, Larry. (OK I'm kidding, but it was set in Portland and it was frightening). The one show I speak of is Twin Peaks, set in a Washington mill town that not only had been infiltrated by a disembodied evil spirit who went around invading people's bodies and committing all sorts of unspeakable mayhem, but also was ground zero for the cosmic battle between good and evil because of the existence of something called The Black Lodge, buried deep beneath the surface its towering forest of majestic Douglas firs. The coffee, however was damn fine. 
and obtuse, and I get why some people persist in belittling them in comparison with the charisma-drenched vampire, but if you are allowing this anti-zombie bias to keep you from watching AMC's The Walking Dead, you are making a grave mistake (pun, sadly, intended). I enjoy a good blood-sucker yarn as much as anyone, but vampire stories seem stale to me these days, obsessed with young, tortured love (Twilight, The Vampire Diaries, True Blood). Let's get real here: there's only one Buffy (well, actually two and counting, 
but you get the point). The creative team behind TWD exploits the horror genre for a far more fulfilling experience, both intellectually and emotionally, repeatedly challenging us to reassess our notions of right and wrong as we ponder the moral implications of the actions of these characters, who are reinventing their own moral codes while struggling to survive in a post-apocalyptic, zombie-infested world.
Judgment: Tough one. How can you condone Shane's decision to sacrifice another human life, especially when Otis had declined to do the same? On the other hand, the fact that Shane had urged Otis to leave without him is convincing evidence that Shane's primary concern was not his own life, but Carl's. And in the end Shane does in fact save Carl's life, by returning to the farm with the supplies. So, if anyone should get off Shane's back it's Lori, whose relentless vilification of him is, I suspect, motivated less by righteous indignation than by a nagging fear that the child she is carrying is not Rick's, but Shane's. Several episodes later, while discussing Otis, Rick seems to absolve Shane of blame, saying that he would do anything to protect his family. Wonder what Lori would have to say about that.
This is 
monster was conspiring with aliens to develop a hybrid slave race, while at the same time - covering his butt, you might say -- allowing his wife to be used as a guinea pig in experiments aimed at developing a serum to eradicate the invaders. While some might consider that a full slate, the CSM was also regularly undermining Dana Scully and Fox Mulder, his biological son (shades of Darth Vader!), in their efforts to expose the extraterrestrial conquistadors. In the impossibly intricate X-Files universe, "Cancer Man" was also established as the assassin of both President Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr., and on top of that had absolutely no regard for the dangers of second-hand smoke.
if I understand it correctly — in reality a disembodied evil spirit who wreaked havoc on the small Pacific Northwest mill town that lent the show its name, possessing humans and then forcing the host bodies to commit heinous transgressions, like, in the case of Leland Palmer, raping and murdering his daughter Laura. Tragically, when last seen this no-goodnik was inhabiting the body of FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper, who — if I understand it correctly — sacrificed himself for the love of a woman (it being Heather Graham, I totally get it), and whom I like so much I named my dog after. 
resence of Nina Myers (hmmm ... three negatives in one sentence, and yet ... I think it works). Nina was the mole inside CTU who was abetting Serbian warlord Victor Drazen, yet another in a long line of lunatics limned by Dennis Hooper, in his vendetta against Jack Bauer and David Palmer, but who knew? All along Nina had been super-cool and super-competent, despite the ridiculous amount of strain the CTU crew was under. Nina's treachery crests with her termination of Jack's wife Teri, portrayed by Leslie Hope, but after watching 
collective recurring villain in Angel was this vast law firm called 
Collins, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation): CSI excels at serial killers — Paul Millander, Doctor Dave, the Dick and Jane Killer — but there's something unique about this loony tune, who left behind dioramas of her crime scenes while bedeviling Grissom and gang over the entire course of season seven. Natalie's issues surfaced early: when six, she flung her little sister to her death from a tree house; as their bereft father, a ventriloquist who performs as the Great Rainone, scrubs his little girl's blood from the sidewalk, the camera takes in the scene from Natalie's viewpoint high up in the tree, rendering everything in miniature. 
supremacist ... Christian militiaman ... coal miner ... coal company goon ... crime boss ... will the real Boyd Crowder please stand up? As with Shane Vendrell in The Shield, another morally dubious character, Goggins imbues this Kentucky-fried rooster with so much charisma that resistance is completely futile, particularly in scenes involving Boyd and Deputy U.S. Marshall Raylan Givens, his one-time friend and long-time nemesis, and a man with considerable charm himself. Boyd's plans are forever being thwarted, but he's no dummy, as Raylan's boss Art Mullen points out in the season-three finale when Boyd — in the process of being arrested for murder — perceptively deduces that the U.S. Marshall's Office is participating in the collar to dispel any notion that he and Raylan are "in cahoots." "You're not as dumb as you look," Art tells him. "Like the use of the word 'cahoots,' though." 
Marvin villains, from 
The early sixties witnessed many "new frontier" dramas, featuring new and unconventional heroes and heroines: psychiatrists, professors, nurses, high school teachers, social workers—even a pair of drifters in a red Corvette. 
stickler for detail, Moser spent nine months in Sacramento witnessing the state assembly—then run by the legendary Jesse Unruh (pictured right)—in action. He interviewed dozen of politicians, including "Big Daddy" Unruh himself. At first, Moser thought of calling his show "The Legislator." It would center on a true "new frontier" hero, a sort of political Ben Casey, a sometimes abrasive, wily, and resourceful yet genuinely idealistic, crusading politician, the minority leader of a state legislature. He knew whom he wanted to play the show's hero, and it was an unconventional choice: Richard Crenna (pictured above), then known primarily as a comic performer on 
By the time the show premiered in September 1964, the title had been changed. "The Legislator" was too bland. Crenna's character was named Slattery (no first name until the second season, when it was revealed as James), and almost every episode centered on Slattery's dealings with the people of his district and his fellow legislators. So the show was renamed Slattery's People. Every episode title was in the form of question: "What Is Truth ?", "When Do They Hang the Good Samaritan?", "Do You Remember the Dark Sins of Youth?" Every episode began with Slattery paraphrasing Churchill: "Democracy is a very bad form of government, but I ask you never to forget, all the others are so much worse."
fictional version would probably seem tame in comparison. The "Smiling Cobra" was a brilliant, hard-working, Princeton-educated, vulgar, Machiavellian, abrasive, and ruthless philistine, whose stated formula for successful television was "Broads, boobs, and fun." He had a knack for picking hit shows—and canceling those he deemed "too highbrow." He disliked Slattery's People as much as he had disliked East Side/ West Side, The Great Adventure, and The Defenders. Aubrey had made CBS the unchallenged king of the Nielsen ratings, but had made many enemies in the process. In addition there were lurid rumors about his private life. In February, the stunning news came that Aubrey had resigned as head of CBS (to be precise, he was "persuaded" to resign) , and that he had been replaced by the obscure John T. Schneider, a far more low-key personality. CBS president Fred Stanton stated that the network wanted to go in a different direction from the one charted by Aubrey. 
Though 
Johnny Ramos, portrayed by a then-promising-but-now-largely-forgotten actor named Paul Geary (note the Hispanic name; Slattery's People was, among other things, a pioneering show in terms of giving good roles to blacks and Hispanics). Though Asner and Avery were retained for the second season, Stuart and Geary were let go. Slattery now had a younger 
(and sexier) secretary, Wendy Wendkowski, played by 
it, had an interesting afterlife. Crenna finally won recognition as a serious dramatic actor, as the sucesse de estime that was Slatttery's People soon helped him win complex, meaty, roles in such films as Wait Until Dark and 
One of my favorite things to poke fun at (good-naturedly, of course) is what I like to call the Lou Pascal Syndrome, after the Burt Lancaster character in the 1980 film 
Hulu's first original scripted series, 
I like it, for what it is. Unlike in Sorkin's world, issues are, well, a non-issue; this is character-driven dramedy centering on a group of young, attractive people running the election campaign of a dark-horse Democratic senatorial candidate. I would find the situation slightly more believable if there were even one grizzled vet around. The team is captained by Chris "Tak" Davis (Jay Hayden), by far the most interesting of the lot, coping as he is with multiple demons, including a reliably unscrupulous dad -- also a political consultant, though far more accomplished than his son (and portrayed by the effortlessly malevolent Ray Wise). What appeals to me particularly about Tak is that he isn't above making some very ethically dubious decisions - both professionally and personally. In other words, he is an imperfect hero. In one episode he makes out with media director K.J. Jamison (Teri Reeves) - even though he's the father of two young girls, struggling to patch up his troubled marriage (not to mention that K.J. is dating his good friend and business partner) - and then blows up at the poor campaign videographer who inadvertently caught the two on tape.
HBO's Veep is what I would call Seinfeld-ian comedy: you can look all you want for someone to embody the moral core of the show; but you're not going to find him/her. This too then qualifies as anti-Sorkinian political entertainment, since Sorkin's fictional milieu is typically crammed with voices of conscience. Veep is, however, hilarious, exceedingly gratifying satire, targeting not just Beltway sanctimony (which is, after all, an easy target), but really the darker impulses of human nature in general - narcissism, superficiality, arrogance, cruelty born from self-doubt, etc. Veep stars, appropriately, Seinfeld alum Julia Louis-Dreyfus in the title role, as profane, imperious, and ridiculously insecure Vice President Selina Meyer; it recently concluded its first season - an eight-episode run - and (thank you, HBO) has already been renewed for a second. 
As with Battleground, there's an intriguing back story: the show was created by Armando Iannucci, well-known across the pond for his BBC sitcom The Thick of It, also a political satire (Iannucci also wrote the Oscar-nominated screenplay for In the Loop and played a key role in the creation and evolution of Steve Coogan's Alan Partridge character). A pilot for an Americanized version of The Thick of It was produced in 2007 by Arrested Development's Mitch Hurwitz and Richard Day, but Iannucci hated it and ABC passed, leading to conversations with HBO about developing a new half-hour politically themed satire, which became Veep. Along the line numerous other interesting names became attached, including then-New York Times columnist Frank Rich (exec producer) and cast members Tony Hale (Arrested Development), Matt Walsh (Upright Citizens Brigade), and Anna Chlumsky (Iannucci's In the Loop, but far better known as the child actress who portrayed Vada Margaret Sultenfuss in the My Girl films from the early nineties). Hale, as Meyer's obsequious, Radar-like aide Gary, particularly cracks me up; sample dialogue, at a meeting with senators that is embarrassingly under-attended: 
Fans of fifties sci-fi B-movies—and really, who isn't?—will want to acquaint themselves with Science Fiction Theatre, a largely forgotten syndicated half-hour anthology show that ran for two seasons and is now the subject of an impressively researched book (
Truman Bradley's on-air description, delivered from the specially constructed science lab he appears in at the open and close of each episode: "a tale of fiction, from the borderlands of science." Topics ranged from time travel ("Time Is Just a Place," based on a short story by Jack Finney, author of The Body Snatchers, source of the great paranoid thriller Invasion of the Body Snatchers) to telepathic chimps ("Conversation with an Ape") to the mysteries of the Pyramids ("The Stones Began to Move," starring Basil Rathbone).
how shall I say?—"cheap," with lots of stock footage, and the scripts are chatty and action-light, a situation Variety was constantly bemoaning, according to the reviews reprinted in Grams's book. Still, the episodes are completely irresistible, thanks in no small part to producer Ivan Tors (pictured left), a Hungarian who fled the rising tide of Naziism in 1939 and eventually settled in Hollywood, where he cowrote and produced a trio of low-budget sci-fi films (The Magnetic Monster, Riders to the Stars, Gog) that became known as his Office of Scientific Investigation (OSI) trilogy, and where he later produced such TV shows as 
titles churned out by Frederic W. Ziv, the so-called father of syndication, also responsible for 
Any opportunity to revisit television's classic "oaters" is a good one as far as I'm concerned, and Alvin H. Marill's 
If you're old enough to remember television's classic westerns in their initial go-rounds, you likely have your own favorite—mine being Rod Serling's 
1) Many Who aficianados rank these as the spookiest episodes ever produced, and they get no argument from me. Both unfold entirely over the course of a single night, with director James Hawes incorporating elements of both noir and horror. Certain moments (like Dr. Constantine's transformation, pictured right) are spine-chilling, even watched in broad daylight. But for my money the most terrifying scene occurs in Room 802 of Albion Hospital when the Doctor, Rose, and Jack come to the sudden realization that the rattling of the tape recorder means the tape has ended, so the little-boy zombie leader is no longer speaking via a recording but is right there in the room with them. "Are you my Mummy?" indeed!
1) It was created by Frank Spotnitz, forever in my pantheon for his eight years with The X-Files (four as exec producer). Spotnick has participated in several Paley Center panels over the years, all viewable in our libraries. 
2) It stars Melissa George, the Australian actress forever in my pantheon for her portrayal of Lauren Reed on Alias (plus, she was once nice to my daughter at a Starbucks). 
Here's what most intrigues me about Hunted, despite some rather unfortunate plausibility issues: Typically, TV spies are fundamentally honorable (if conflicted) G-(wo)men risking their lives for freedom, democracy, yada yada yada, but in Hunted we're presented with an altogether variant species: private security contractors working for a shady corporation called Byzantium, whose clients are known only to their boss, the slithery Rupert Keel (Dillane) - one MI-6 operative alludes to them, not inaccurately, as "quasi-criminal mercenaries." In season one, that client turns out to be (SPOILER ALERT!) Polyhedrus, a truly odious conglomerate whose primary objective is to conceal its role in the mass murder of Pakistani villagers who were obstructing its scheme to reap billions via the construction of a dam.
This is a busy season for finales: Gossip Girl, 
10 - Star Trek: The Next Generation 
I'm probably way too pumped to learn that Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick are crafting a 
1) Pitch Black (2000): Stardom is a double-edged sword, as we know from watching Vin Diesel transmogrify into one (a star, that is). Before The Pacifier (2005) there was Pitch Black (2000), a neat little deep-space thriller in which Diesel portrays Richard D. Riddick, a big, bad wolf en route to the hoosegow when his transport ship crash-lands on a desert planet inhabited by predatory aliens. This film has already spawned one sequel - The Chronicles of Riddick, released in 2004 - with 
These celebratory chants punctuate the nightmare at the beginning of "Mhysa," the Game of Thrones third-season finale on Sunday, June 9. The finale further demonstrates that in Westeros, all certainly is not fair in love and war; this sentiment is "Mhysa"'s most powerful message. Robb Stark, one of the handful of truly noble characters floating among the chaos, sat atop a horse with the head of his beloved dire wolf sewn into his collar bone. Directly across from this profane display sat a pale shell of his sister Arya Stark. This would be their only reunion since Arya departed from Winterfell: the home they shared with a family that is now scattered or deceased. This tragic circumstance, which Game of Thrones illustrates perfectly, culminated the intricate season-long treachery that pulls this fantasy world away from Tolkien and closer to David Simon.
Game of Thrones is truly not about what name you own or don't, but how you deal with a world that rewards severely misguided ideals. As we discover at the end of the episode, "Mhysa" is Ghiscari for mother, a role achieved by Daenerys Targareyan, one of the frontrunners for the Iron Throne (three hundred years of legacy), whose has emerged as the Harriet Tubman of Essos. The young queen concludes the episode by crowd-surfing among countless freed slaves chanting "Mhysa" while her three legendary dragons decorate the desert sky. 
government-imposed twelve-hour period during which all crimes—including murder—are sanctioned and unpunishable, in what has turned out to be a phenomenally successful initiative to reduce transgressive behavior over the remaining 8,753.81277 hours of the year. 
With a nod to my colleague 
6) David Chase once reportedly told Sopranos writer Todd Kessler (pictured right): "I'll never truly be happy in life" until he does what? 
8) During the making of the HBO miniseries The Corner, series cocreator David Simon (pictured left) steered clear of the set for what reason? 
10) Damage's Patty Hewes was modeled after whom? 
12) During NYPD Blue, Steven Bochco and David Milch (pictured right) got into a fierce, "nose to nose" argument after Milch demanded more money, but Bochco eventually felt bad and told Milch to ask him for anything he wanted and he would say OK. So what did Milch ask for? 
September is a melancholic time here because most of our summer interns head back to college (sad for us, at least). This year I asked my interns to leave something behind—their thoughts and opinions about the media they consume, and their visions for the future. Here are the players:
Steven: My parents watch a lot of network cop shows such as Criminal Minds, 
Steven: I occasionally "live-tweet" late-night talk shows, and definitely participated in the Twitter-sphere during the 2012 presidential debates. As for television shows, I have live-tweeted The Walking Dead before, but that was only because I am not a fan of the show. Generally, I tend to avoid posting about shows that are currently on television, because I would hate to accidentally spoil these shows for other people. Recently, I watched The Sopranos in its entirety and "live-tweeted" (would this still be called live-tweeting, or would watching an older show that is no longer on TV be "dead-tweeting?") many times about the show's characters, acting, music, cinematography, and locations (which are all close to my house). I also tweet about Firefly whenever I rewatch the series. Twitter is the perfect place to vent when a show provides you with such a bittersweet mix of utter joy and downright misery. As for Facebook and Tumblr, they are spoiler havens and must be avoided at all costs.
6) How do you define the TV hero? What qualities must she or he have? 
Meghan: I hate to use this as an example because I know some will roll their eyes, but I think the first season of Girls speaks to a lot of women around my age. These four women are in this weird limbo period of their lives trying to not only figure themselves out, but also things like relationships and careers. Though the show is overdramatized sometimes, the core is relatable, and I think that's the magic to it.
Recent Paley Center interns continue their meditation on the state of media. Once again, the players are:
Meghan: It's very rare for my whole family to get together and watch TV. We all got into Game of Thrones this past season, so we watched that together. Though my mom would usually leave the room midepisode because she couldn't take "all the blood, killing and sex". 
12) Do you ever still watch DVDs?
Diantha: For one they'll have me as a mom so they'll have great taste. They'll probably have more "interactive" TV, which will be networks/distributors/studios trying to get audiences to engage in a world with an increasing short attention span. It will be unnecessary but it will happen. There will also be less scheduled TV and the system will be more Netflix-style on demand, which is good. Shows will be both better and worse and somehow the exact same. Hopefully there will be more diversity and equal representation, but I doubt it. In twenty years laugh tracks will have made their third comeback. The method may change but the content will be the same. My children will read books.
Ilana: Mad Men, Friday Night Lights, The West Wing, The Carol Burnett Show, Saturday Night Live
I started thinking about my Russian history class from junior year of high school recently, remembering endless days of Doctor Zhivago, a movie that took up over a month's worth of class time. In the corner of the classroom sat Mr. Weisberg, an insightful middle-aged pedagogue with a profound respect for the past. Last Friday (October 2) I was in the audience at a 
After I took a second look at the first season of The Americans (the second season of the FX show premieres in January), the significance of Mr. Weisberg's lessons was reinforced. When our class watched Doctor Zhivago, he reminded us that it was a story about people and how they behaved in circumstances that would alter their way of life forever. The film creates a fictional narrative to guide us through major changes in Russian politics, including the formation of the U.S.S.R., conflicts with the White Army, and the Second World War. Doctor Zhivago's central characters, Yuri Zhivago and Larissa Antipova, are star-crossed lovers simultaneously bound together and pulled apart by violent conflicts in their homeland. The Americans takes place nearly thirty years after the closing section of Doctor Zhivago, yet in some respects can be interpreted as a spiritual descendant.
The Jenningses' loyalty to the Soviet Union is constantly being tested, and their trust in Soviet covert methodology appears at times to crack over the course of the season (as when they are captured and tortured by Soviet agents posing as Americans), but they still blindly follow their chain of command. The development of the U.S.S.R. so brilliantly re-created in Doctor Zhivago reveals a window into the system that the Jennings live to protect. In the concluding portion of the film, Yuri Zhivago dies from heart failure chasing after Lara after catching a brief glimpse of her on a train. Elizabeth is critically injured in the line of duty in "The Colonel," the season-one finale of The Americans; in the most poignant moment of the episode she begs her husband in their native language to "Come Home." Despite all that the Jenningses have suffered through both personally and professionally, will their intimate bond trump all?