Pluribus is a tantalizing sci-fi show impossible to resist

Photo: Apple TV+

Before creating two of the greatest TV shows of all time, Vince Gilligan was a writer on The X-Files. For 8 seasons, he wrote some of the show’s best episodes and eventually became a co-executive producer. If there’s one thing to take away from Pluribus, Gilligan’s latest series,it’s that he hasn’t lost touch with his sci-fi roots.

To describe Pluribus before you’ve watched it is a disservice that I won’t commit. This is a rare example of a show that needs to be experienced with as little information as possible. The basic logline is this: the world’s most miserable person becomes humanity’s only hope. That’s the only bit of info you need. What I’m saying is, go watch the first episode and come back. I’ll still be here, and we already know this is a “Tune In” anyway.

Thanks for coming back! As you discovered, Pluribus’ pilot is one of the greatest single episodes of television you’ll watch this year. A perfect blend of humor, horror, and science fiction that feels like equal parts Invasion of the Body Snatchers and The Twilight Zone. Written and directed by Gilligan, the episode establishes a style that calls back to his previous work (try as he might, Vince can’t leave Albuquerque) while charting a fresh path. In under an hour, the episode conveys so much to the audience. It’s enough to wonder why so many other shows drag things out.

This isn’t a show with potential. This is a program that has fully realized itself and can’t wait to show it off. The other 2 episodes out now show more of what Pluribus is capable of. This series isn’t solely about the mysteries, and that’s clear in how ready it is to answer questions. The more answers we get, the deeper the concept of this human “hive-mind” turns out to be. There’s an unpredictable energy here that keeps you glued to your seat even for something as simple as a dinner sequence.

The star of Pluribus is Rhea Seehorn, back teaming with Gilligan. The last time the two worked together was in the excellent Better Call Saul episode “Waterworks,” which contained possibly her best performance on the show. As Carol Sturka, Seehorn tackles an almost impossible task: making a deeply unlikable person someone worth rooting for. Carol is a prickly and distant person even before the world as she knows it ends. Seehorn does tremendous work showing the wave of emotions that Carol experiences, especially in the first episode. Through it all, Carol remains deeply human, flaws and all. A contrast that becomes clearer the more she interacts with members of the “hive-mind.”

There’s been plenty of discourse about Pluribus and the ever-present conversation around A.I. It’s easy to see why. This is a story about the entirety of human history being condensed into one collective consciousness. It’s basically Sam Altman’s wet dream minus the part where he makes absurd amounts of money. Deep down at the root though, the series is simply telling a story as old as science fiction and possibly as old as stories. What does it mean to be human? What separates us from other life? These are questions with no straightforward answers. The perfect type for a show like Pluribus, one that embraces ambiguity and has a blast doing it.

Pluribus is currently streaming on Apple TV+. New episodes air on Fridays.

Final Verdict: Tune In

DMV: As exciting as standing in line

Photo: CBS

A basic fact of American life is that there are many government institutions that are a hassle to interact with. There’s often a good reason for the bureaucratic drudgery that defines most of them, but it remains a pain. For seemingly as long as it’s existed, the DMV has been the biggest punching bag in this area. What must it be like to work in a place so soul-crushing? CBS’ latest sitcom attempts to provide the answer.

DMV focuses on the workers of the East Hollywood branch and the daily indignities they face. The show operates as a standard workplace sitcom, but most of the action revolves around a trio of driving examiners. Kind-hearted Colette (Harriet Dryer), former teacher Gregg (Tim Meadows), and sleazy Vic (Tony Cavalero) provide a nice center for the surrounding chaos. That the madness comes from both co-workers and the everyday people coming into the building is an expected touch.

“Expected” is the kindest way I can describe DMV. Some other, harsher words include “rote,” “stale,” and worst of all, “unfunny.” The show relies on every joke you’ve ever heard about the DMV. Long lines, awful pictures, and old ladies who definitely shouldn’t be driving are all part of the tableau. There’s also a collection of stock workplace sitcom plotlines and, of course, a central romance between Colette and newcomer Noa (Alex Tarrant).

That relationship, like many on the show, should work but never finds a spark. Which is a shame because there’s a solid cast here who never seem to gel as a unit. Sitcoms need time to build up the cast dynamics and find what works best, but it seems like a tall task for a program with so few bright spots. Even Meadows, a reliable comedic presence, struggles to find the charm in this material. An entire episode relegates him to cleaning out the work fridge and cracking stale jokes — a waste of his talents.

There’s still potential for DMV to grow into something worthwhile, but it hasn’t shown up on screen yet. The series will probably find success thanks to being on America’s #1 broadcast network, CBS. That honor might be increasingly irrelevant, but it still means a large audience of potential viewers. That could be the true cause for this show’s shortcomings. There’s no incentive to try anything new if the same old stuff works just fine. It’s just a shame they didn’t tell the actors to phone it in.

DMV airs Mondays on CBS. Streaming next day on Paramount+..

Final Verdict: Tune Out

Television Turmoil: Supertrain proved to be one of the costliest failures in TV history

There are few people in the 70s TV landscape as influential as Fred Silverman. Described as “The Man with the Golden Gut,” Silverman was renowned for his ability to pick out hit shows. This particular brand of executive-myth building started with stints on CBS and ABC, where he helped revitalize both networks and, in the latter’s case, helped elevate it to the #1 network for the first time. M*A*S*H, All in the Family, The Waltons, Three’s Company and Charlie’s Angels are just a few examples of the programs that premiered under his watch.

It comes as no surprise that Silverman’s jump to NBC in 1979 was seen as a great acquisition for the Peacock network. NBC had spent much of the decade floundering, and the prospect of luring away the executive who led their rivals to success was just the turnaround they needed. To say things didn’t quite go to plan is a massive understatement. Silverman’s failure at NBC is a dark mark on both his career and the network’s history. Today’s focus is on perhaps the biggest flop produced in that period.

Supertrain technically started production before Silverman went to NBC, but he oversaw the show’s heavy advertising and its 2-hour premiere. This makes sense when you consider how much money had already been invested in the program. By the time Silverman had come on board, Supertrain was already the most expensive TV show made in the U.S. The three separate models of the titular train, each different sizes for various shots, amounted to $10 million. Not to mention an accident involving one of those models early in the production. With all this money flowing, NBC must have had a powerful concept to go along with it, right?

Well, does copying another show’s concept count? At its core, Supertrain is essentially The Love Boat (Another hit from Silverman’s ABC tenure) placed on a train. Not just any train, mind you. This train is super. Specifically, it is a nuclear-powered bullet train capable of traveling cross-country in just under two days. The train also comes stocked with various amenities: a swimming pool, a gym, a shopping center, and even its own dance club. It’s a train functioning as a cruise ship. Which all seems very cool if you’re willing to overlook the astronomical upkeep cost on all of it.

Similar to the show that it’s aping, Supertrain focused primarily on the passengers of the train from week-to-week, telling an interconnected story about their lives with the crew of the train being relegated to B-plots. As an idea for driving viewer interest, it’s solid. Unfortunately, the guest stars the show pulled in weren’t the most enticing.

The big 2-hour premiere focuses mostly on singer Steve Lawrence with a hammy performance from Vicki Lawrence (no relation) to back it up. Other episodes feature Dick Van Dyke, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Larry Linville and Tony Danza all good gets, but hardly the ones you need to attract a big audience. During the program’s brief 9 episode tenure, only three members of the main cast stuck around. Of those three, the closest thing to a known name was Robert Alda (Broadway star and father of Alan Alda) who played the train’s doctor. A thankless role, just like every other on the show.

Therein lies the biggest problem with Supertrain, the train is the only actual character. With so much money poured into the models, an episode of the show cuts to shots of the train often. Characters marvel at the train and discuss the life-changing experience of being in it. Even during promotion for the show, the train was the only thing anyone talked about. This was particularly clear during an episode of Today that aired before the show’s premiere. The only thing the newscasters had to hype the show with was the train. The major talking point seemed to be the enormous cost. It reeks of a group of people knowing failure is imminent and not being able to say so. The producers pinned all their hopes on the concept of a big, fast train being enough to attract an audience.

None of this is helped by the mediocre writing. Most of the story in an episode seems dragged out to make an hour and involves generic suspense plots like: an unknown assassin (this happens in both the first and second episode), a kidnapping plot, a jewel heist and in one extremely baffling instance, a presidential candidate’s twin taking his place. None of the stories offers anything besides cheap thrills and something to pad out the runtime in between shots of the train.

The program also has a serious tone problem. While “daring” suspense plots would take up much of the main story, the crew members were often relegated to comedic subplots. These often felt incongruous with the drama going on elsewhere. These plots would occasionally intersect and make the entire crew look either oblivious or uncaring to the very real murders, thefts and other crimes going on.

Supertrain’s premiere failed in the ratings and the program was eventually pulled for retooling. This mostly just amounted to putting some women in skimpy swimsuits on the train and calling it a day. Shockingly, that also failed to garner much interest, and the train was finally stopped a month later.

Taken as a whole, it’s easy to see how Supertrain became a massive failure. The show’s enormous budget, coupled with the US withdrawing from the 1980 Olympics, nearly put NBC out of business. Maybe with better writing or a more engaging cast, the show could have thrived, but sometimes things are just doomed from the start. Sometimes, a bad idea needs to be called out before it can grow. A lesson learned many times over, but rarely retained.

Next time: We move to the late 00s for the GEICO inspired flop, ABC’s Cavemen.

Chad Powers fumbles out of the gate and never recovers

It’s considered bad practice as a reviewer to judge a series before you watch it. That said, it’s hard not to assume the worst when you see “Developed from an Omaha Productions skit by Eli Manning” in the show’s logline. Chad Powers never rises above those assumptions and often falls even lower. It gets to a point where I half expected Manning himself to appear and reveal that this too was a prank.

Co-created by Glen Powell and Michael Waldron, Chad Powers follows Russ Holiday, a star college quarterback who makes a crucial mistake during the championship game. That mistake leads to an altercation with the parent of a child in a wheelchair that ends with both of them on the floor in front of cameras. The events ruin Russ’s career instantly, and the subsequent spiral remains mostly off screen. 8 years later, Russ is a bum living with his dad (Toby Huss) and recording depressing Cameos. One day, while delivering his father’s makeup and prosthetics work, Russ gets an idea. He travels to a small Georgia college that he heard is having open tryouts, and Chad Powers is born.

That’s a lot of setup for very little return, which becomes the show’s running theme. The sight of Powell in some off-putting prosthetics and using a strange accent is good for a few chuckles, but quickly wears thin. The series mostly plays like a poor man’s Eastbound & Down mixed with a 00s Adam Sandler comedy. It falls flat because nobody cares about any of this working.

The writers clearly struggle with answering the obvious questions you have while also mining it for comedic material. How does Chad play without sweating off his prosthetics? Won’t even the most basic investigations into his past prove this is all BS? The answers to these and other questions fail to produce anything funny. Instead, the show gets much of its mileage from the awkward encounters between Chad and the rest of the cast.

The best of these are the moments with Frankie Rodriguez’s Danny. Like most of the characters in Chad Powers, Danny is pretty one-note. Rodriguez fills him with such energy that he becomes the standout of the cast. Glen Powell’s charm is a big part of his current ascent to leading man status, but there’s none of it on display here. He nails the jokes and sells Russ’ desperation to be back in the spotlight, but there’s an emptiness that keeps it from clicking together. It doesn’t help that Russ is such an unrepentant asshole that his inevitable redemption feels massively unearned.

It’s possible that this all comes together in the second half of the show’s brief season. As it stands, Chad Powers is a bad idea executed poorly. Maybe it works better as the basis of a hidden camera skit involving the less-wooden Manning brother. Like its namesake, the series never gets out of its own way. Instead, it relies on tired sports tropes and broad comedy that rarely works without an expert hand calling the plays. It’s disappointing, but the type of disappointment you feel when a bad team loses a game. Maybe they’ll win the next one.

Chad Powers is currently streaming on Hulu. New episodes release on Tuesdays.

Final Verdict: Tune Out

Television Turmoil: Small Wonder is supremely weird and incredibly goofy

Television Turmoil is a look at the worst and weirdest series to make their way onto the small screen.

It has been said many times over, but the 80s truly were a wild time, especially for TV. Save for the 60s, there’s never been an era full of bonkers concepts that found success in spite of themselves. It is the perfect starting point for this series, and a prime example of both “worst” and “weirdest.”

Small Wonder follows V.I.C.I. (Voice Input Child Identicant) a robot girl created by Ted Lawson (Dick Christie) and sequestered in his home for reasons that are never fully explained. With the help of his family, Ted must keep V.I.C.I.’s true identity a secret from those who might use it nefariously or, you know, nosy neighbors.

Created by corny sitcom legend, Howard Leeds (co-creator of The Facts of Life and Silver Spoons) the show became a hit in first-run syndication. It also bares a striking resemblance to another program Leeds produced in the 60s, the creepily titled My Living Doll. That series focused on a robot in the form of an adult woman taken into the care of a military psychiatrist. Objectively, a worse idea than this one, and that’s before we get into the part about the Fembot being trained to be “the perfect woman.”

Aimed at children, Small Wonder mostly revolves around the Lawson’s obnoxious son, Jamie (Jerry Supiran) and his various attempts to have V.I.C.I. (or just Vicki when she is pretending to be a real girl) make his life easier. This ranges from having her do his chores to elaborate money-making schemes that usually backfire. In fact, most of the family uses Vicki for basic tasks around the house. Most notably, Ted’s wife Joan (a very underserved Marla Pennington) frequently uses Vicki to help with cooking. This sad existence is further exacerbated by the knowledge that Vicki is capable of cognitive thinking. Which makes her, at the very least, a sapient being.

These thoughts are perhaps too big for a show that seems to have the budget of a middle school production of The Wizard of Oz. Truly, this is a program that doesn’t expect you to ask the big questions. Actually, it doesn’t expect you to ask any questions. For instance, why exactly does Ted wish to keep this stunning achievement a secret from the world? To hear him explain it in the pilot, his job passed on the project, so he took it home. The kind of answer that only works if you don’t think about it. This is all before we get into questions about how V.I.C.I. operates.

Like most 80s programs focused on the growing technology of the time, Small Wonder doesn’t care very much for how tech actually works. Throughout the series, Vicki can grow in size, float in the air for extended periods and in one peculiar instance, restart a person’s heart. Anything a coked out writer’s room can think up is on the table as far as her abilities go. So, not only did Ted create artificial life, he created the world’s first superhero. Which makes his decision to hide his creation away even more troubling.

Still, this is technically a kid’s show. Maybe we should just take the premise at face value and try to enjoy what is being offered. Unfortunately, that doesn’t get you very far. Most of the jokes on the show revolve around Vicki repeating something someone else said in a monotone voice. This happens so often that I have to assume the writers just didn’t feel like writing new dialogue. Despite the fantastical concept, the show usually settles for stock sitcom tropes. There are a lot of stories about someone almost figuring out that Vicki is a robot. Because this is the 80s there are also a handful of inept “Very Special Episodes.” The most egregious being one about smoking that ends with Vicki trying a cigarette and smoke pouring out of her ears.

Many of the show’s biggest jokes revolve around the use of special effects to showcase Vicki’s abilities. This sounds like a good idea on paper. Part of the problem with being a syndicated show is running with a very small budget. This leads to the effects looking dire, even for the time. The show occasionally avoids this problem by using more practical effects, but with a staggeringly low budget of $300,000 per episode, even those aren’t very convincing. This also extends to the sets, which are crudely made and, in the case of schools or stores, unusually empty.

The closest thing to a positive the show has going for it is Tiffany Brissette as Vicki. A pageant girl who came close to nabbing the role of Punky Brewster, Brissette is clearly talented even when forced to show no emotion. The later seasons of the show would come up with reasons to allow the actor to show more range, from various malfunctions to an evil version of the robot named Vanessa that could somehow speak in a natural tone of voice. Brissette’s aging also forced the writers to come up with an explanation for this robot’s apparent growth spurt. Thankfully, the show didn’t last long enough for us to find out what rationale it would give for V.I.C.I. becoming a teenager.

Of course, no family sitcom is complete without an annoying neighbor character. Harriet Brindle (Emily Schulman) fills this role admirably by being both irritating and superfluous to the majority of the happenings. Her equally grating parents also appear occasionally and are either very interested in Vicki or completely clueless about her true nature.

You can try to wave away most of these issues with a simple, “This is just a show for kids.” We shouldn’t have to accept the bare minimum just because children are watching. We should expect more from programs aimed at an audience of developing minds. Of course, that was never in consideration with this program.

True to the era it was created in, Small Wonder is all about the bottom line. It was made to provide cheap content for local stations to play during non-prime time hours. The only thing asked of it was to make a modest return, and it accomplished that goal. The show ended up being syndicated internationally and found success overseas, which is more than I can say for many of the shows I’ll cover here. That success is likely the reason anyone remembers this program and why it is often listed along with the worst. That’s the problem sometimes with failing upward, it just puts more eyes on you.

Next time: We take a look at NBC’s expensive and short-lived Love Boat ripoff, Supertrain.