I wish I could enjoy Starter Wife as God intended. I do. I wish that I could squee over Sam (YAY! HE’S SHIRTLESS AND IN THOSE RED JAMS AGAIN! SO HAWT!!!SCREAMOFRAGE!1!) and root for him and Molly to touch each other nakedly. I wish I felt sad that Joan is an alcoholic and that, in spite of the jokiness surrounding her debilitating addiction, I would well up with tears when she realized she needed help. I wish I could find an iota of a smidgen of a care about the Cricket/Jorge storyline. I wish I didn’t cringe every time Lavender’s Sassy Grandma was on screen; instead, I should be LOLing! She’s sassy and old and thinks white people be mad trippin’! I wish I was breathlessly awaiting Kenny Kagan’s komeuppance instead of, you know, wishing he would disappear into the ether like the broad, unfunny toot of a character he is.
Instead, I find myself enjoying parts that are unintentionally funny, like after the detective made a “I think I threw up in my mouth” face when Molly mentioned she was making time with Jane Bot. I guess that tertiary character is supposed to be A Jerk, but instead, I found myself empathizing with him. Yes, Tertiary Not Jerk, I agree: barf.
Also, the part where Sam charged Joan’s car like a meth-addicted Grover proving he could still do the “Near! Far!” bit? Highlarious. Kids, don’t drink and drive: a depraved Muppet Android will invade your personal space. Relief of reliefs, he’ll wear a shirt FOR ONCE, but do you really want to have to deal with the sitch at all?
Perhaps funny, perhaps just awkward: the 20-second pos-men for Ponds as Molly and Joan sorted through Joan’s mail. Wow. That was not subtle, even by today’s standards of Mac and Me and every Bravo reality series. Ponds: [beat beat beat] And it’s the choice of a new generation.
Oh, fine, there were parts that the show intended to be funny that I laughed at, like Joan’s spazzy machinations to cover her accident. Watching Judy Davis work a fast bit of dialogue and lies is always a treat. And yes, I am always a sucker for a Silence of the Lambs bit. I particularly liked the way they got Debra Messing’s hair to be exactly like Brooke’s. And sometimes, under the right conditions, Debra Messing makes funny faces. But overall, the comedy is either so grating (ZOMG Rodney doesn’t want to date his accountant! Until his accountant is dating a hot guy! Didn’t WE ALL SEE THIS EPISODE OF FRIENDS AND/OR SEX IN THE CITY? JESUS, I THINK IT WAS ON THREE’S COMPANY, LIKE, NINE TIMES) or broad (all that Bambi stuff, Kenny’s assistant debasing herself, which, if that doesn’t end with Standing Up For Herself To The Strains of Aretha Franklin’s “Respect,” I owe the miniseries a cookie) that I want to synch it up to a canned laugh track to be all ironic and shit.
Mostly, though, I’m furious that this thing is six hours long and the makers are convinced we all want to see an entire hour next week of Molly and Sam licking each other like a lollipop should be licked, when it was clear in the five minutes that Joe Mantegna was back as Lou that…
Dude, it’s just a chemistry experiment gone wrong, all right? I guess I’m not representative of smut book readers everywhere, but I think that the people who really, really want to see her macking on Jane Bot are, at this point, in the minority. Yes, he’s buff. Yes, he’s handsome, if you like that Abercrombie and Fitch thing. But there is no chemistry. Whether it’s that Messing needs to be matched with a superior actor (her scenes with Judy Davis suggest this is so) or that Jane Bot does not understand hu-man emotions like sexiness, I don’t know. All I know is that I kept waiting for Lou and Molly to take advantage of the fact that they were in an untrafficked, dark, private parking ramp to maybe have some quick, conspirators-in-arms sex in Molly’s SUV towards the end of that scene. The look Lou fixed her with as he sincerely told her that the thought of her made him happy. The way they were all close together. Remembering the way he kissed her at that playacting lunch (or is that just me who thinks about that often?)… And then a kiss on the damn cheek? Are you KIDDING ME? Not since Pride and Prejudice: The Firth Edition have I been more disappointed with the lack of makey outy. Then Lou was gone! And we were left with Jane Bot. Again. The five minutes Molly spent with Lou were hotter than that end scene of, quite honestly, vanilla and gauzy “let us silently walk hand in hand so that you may make love to me and feed me strawberries and we can talk about how we both cried while watching Beaches” ending by a million billion degrees. And IT WASN’T EVEN MEANT TO BE HOT!
As I said, I wish I was enjoying it as God intended. Instead, my enjoyment is all heavy with guilt. I’m having a Catholic experience with this miniseries without the delightful Thorn Birds super-smut and sinning. Well, you know, of the right characters smutting and sinning, at any rate.