“Heroes” slithers back onto NBC’s lineup tonight, giving fanboys a whole new slew of shit to bitch about–unless they drink the Kool-Aid and actually believe Tim Kring’s soap-opera cross between “X-Men” and Unbreakable makes quality television. Ahh, poison tastes so yummy when it’s cherry-flavored. I know millions of people loved the first season. Thought it was solid stuff – after all it had like indestructible cheerleaders and shit. Hell the bastard even got nominated for Emmys (and won the *ahem* prestigious Saturn Award for “Best Television Series”…twice!).
Let’s face it, the Emmy noms were nothing more than a desperate grab for some ratings magic from a popular show. Hey the kids like it and they’re the demographic we need for the commercials during the ceremony’s broadcast. Hell with quality and sanity, nominate that show for everything we got. And make sure that hot cheerleader’s face is everywhere.
Something about “Heroes,” especially the first season, warps the minds of all who view it. Either you’ve completely gone around the bend and bullshitted yourself into thinking you saw something resembling good TV or you’re like me, a rationalist who knows the show is a piece of crap yet cannot stop watching it.
I endured every episode of that first season. It was like crack, which is supposedly bad for you, but quite addictive. I couldn’t stop checking in every week despite knowing “Heroes” was a blue-balling cock-tease that made old mythology episodes of “The X-Files” seem like goddamn Shanghai orgies of information. The first season of “Heroes” was excruciatingly plodding and sloshing over with so much filler and unneeded characters it felt like it took 7 episodes for someone to walk across the living room. And most of those characters were so awful (Ali Larter, worst actress…ever) I was wishing for an epidemic of severe strokes to strike them down – no hero is safe from blood clots.
Make no mistake: A season of “Heroes” is nothing more than a week’s worth of “General Hospital,” but with worse acting and slightly better production value. Yet, it was that soap-opera addictiveness that brought me back every week. It’s like some demented psychology experiment where you keep grabbing at a refreshing pint of beer hooked up to a car battery.
Everything taken into consideration, I still tuned in for the second season despite the shellacking I suffered during the first season’s conclusion, one of the lamest season finales ever to limp into a May Sweeps time slot. I was an optimistic fool. A gambler tossing in the kid’s college fund hoping the worm would turn. And while rabid fanboys revolted during the second season like they do on everything – with slobbering dick-joke glee – I actually thought the season was a minor improvement. Maybe that’s because the writer’s strike cut the season in half. Or maybe it was due to the focused concentration on a few characters per episode as opposed to touching on everyone. Or maybe it was the shrinking role for Larter (again, worst actress…ever) – actually that probably wasn’t it since the writers gave us some new characters nearly as wretched (i.e., the Mexican emo wonder twins of death or Kristen “Why am I popular when I lack all things of talent” Bell’s phony tough chick act). Nonetheless, the second season was only slightly more satisfying than the first – sort of like saying bottled water is slightly more satisfying than drinking from the tap.
So will I watch tonight as “Heroes” promises to go all villain-like on my ass. Well, the focus on villains is sort of cool (although I’ve always felt Sylar was a one-trick pony of a character and should have been permanently put to sleep after season 1). The commercials looks nifty, but don’t they always. Yet at Comic Con, people apparently went batshit for the footage shown during the panel (a panel I can’t say I was too sad to miss). But then again most of the people in Hall H, and at Comic Con in general, were mental defectives that could be worked up into a frenzy with blinking lights and a disco ball painted up like the Joker’s face.
Yes, yes, who am I kidding? I’ll watch it. Or at least DVR it. I know what I’m getting into. And it ain’t pretty. Despite the interesting theme and exciting commercials, I expect season 3 to turn out just like the first two: a bait and switch, the television equivalent of a hairy pair of tranny balls.
Now, if you aren’t too busy and want a sneak peek at what is coming,
