Monday Mornings is about the the daily challenges faced by
surgeons in a fictional Portland hospital - including an oddly avant-garde,
public shaming ritual in a setting which looks an awful lot like a black box
theater (possibly to make Alfred Molina feel more at home). Unfortunately, the
trials and tribulations of generic surgeons in a generic hospital constitute
some of the most exhausted clichés of all time. There is literally nothing new
here - no spin, no twist.
Sometimes, well-trodden ground can be made fresh by skill
and innovation. But there is nothing innovative about Monday Mornings. The
characters vary from tired archetypes to bizarre parodies. The tone is all over
the place, dipping into fast-paced, blood-spattered thrills, followed by slow
oppressive drama before moseying into quirky ethnic comedy. For some reason there
are a lot of over-the-top accents and, oh right, Ving Rhames, who doesn’t seem
to be playing any particular role beyond “Ving Rhames wearing scrubs,
occasionally heckling the other actors.” Lines like “We have to stop the
bleeding,” and “Call it,” have me checking my watch wondering when I can
declare this show officially dead.
Bill D’Elia is a competent director but he is stretching to
make something unique out of this by-the-book drama. In his mad attempts at
making something not wholly derivative, he winds up making an even bigger mess.
Practically every shot in the pilot defies convention, in a loud, distracting
way. It's as if D’Elia is trying to drown out my boredom by giving me a
headache.
I don’t mean to say that there’s no such thing as good genre
TV. But, honestly, I think David E. Kelly is just worn out after dozens of
courtroom and medical dramas, and at this point he’s just regurgitating
whatever leftover scenes he forgot to put in Chicago Hope or Doogie Howser.
Article first published as TV Review: Monday Mornings - "Pilot" on Blogcritics.com
Article first published as TV Review: Monday Mornings - "Pilot" on Blogcritics.com
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