How did Glee become so much less than the sum of its best parts?
That's not the way the equation used to work. Fox's Glee (Tuesday, 8 ET/PT) may have always reeked of barely constrained chaos, but fans of the audaciously distinctive series accepted the mess, the excess and the occasional plot stumbles because the parts that worked worked well enough to make up for a multitude of TV sins.
Yet sadly, somewhere around the time Kurt exited the Glee club for an elite, gay-friendly, all-boys school down the road, the show seemed to lose its way and its balance. What had been a musical comedy with at least one toe dipped in real waters now seems to be an over-produced, overly Auto-Tuned variety show that exists merely to sell downloads of its covers — a modern version of Your Hit Parade.
In some ways, Glee's slips are typical of shows that become too hot too fast, indulging in too many big-name guests and too many gimmick-laden "very special" episodes. Last week gave us the worst of both worlds, with an all-consuming Gwyneth Paltrow return visit that played like a South Parkspoof on after-school specials — one designed to encourage teenage sex. Once we might have heard Artie sing a sensitive song about adolescent desire and confusion; now we get Paltrow leading the kids in Do You Wanna Touch Me.
What has been lost is any attempt to tell a sensible story, as the show recycles plots and rejuggles couples (Santana now loves Brittany? Really?) without regard for consequences, common sense or clear motivation. How can we invest in their teen worries over regionals and high school relationships when each ever-more-ludicrously-elaborate production number tells us they should just chuck it and go on tour?
As for Sue, she has become such a tiresome mishmash of unduly nasty and unbearably maudlin, she even defeats the best efforts of Jane Lynch. One moment she's announcing she won't stand for bullying; the next she's pushing a teacher down the steps and throwing students into lockers, behavior that gets you not just fired but arrested.
Even the songs, once the show's saving graces, now seem to drop in at random, often courtesy of Darren Criss' likable but overexposed Blaine. Glee seems to have lost all interest in using music to advance the plot or define the characters. Worse, it has lost its ability to establish an emotional connection between song and singer, the kind that made Chris Colfer's October version of I Want to Hold Your Hand so moving.
That's the Glee some of us miss, and the Glee some of us want back. Let's hope that's not too much to ask.
source usatoday.com
Yet sadly, somewhere around the time Kurt exited the Glee club for an elite, gay-friendly, all-boys school down the road, the show seemed to lose its way and its balance. What had been a musical comedy with at least one toe dipped in real waters now seems to be an over-produced, overly Auto-Tuned variety show that exists merely to sell downloads of its covers — a modern version of Your Hit Parade.
In some ways, Glee's slips are typical of shows that become too hot too fast, indulging in too many big-name guests and too many gimmick-laden "very special" episodes. Last week gave us the worst of both worlds, with an all-consuming Gwyneth Paltrow return visit that played like a South Parkspoof on after-school specials — one designed to encourage teenage sex. Once we might have heard Artie sing a sensitive song about adolescent desire and confusion; now we get Paltrow leading the kids in Do You Wanna Touch Me.
What has been lost is any attempt to tell a sensible story, as the show recycles plots and rejuggles couples (Santana now loves Brittany? Really?) without regard for consequences, common sense or clear motivation. How can we invest in their teen worries over regionals and high school relationships when each ever-more-ludicrously-elaborate production number tells us they should just chuck it and go on tour?
As for Sue, she has become such a tiresome mishmash of unduly nasty and unbearably maudlin, she even defeats the best efforts of Jane Lynch. One moment she's announcing she won't stand for bullying; the next she's pushing a teacher down the steps and throwing students into lockers, behavior that gets you not just fired but arrested.
Even the songs, once the show's saving graces, now seem to drop in at random, often courtesy of Darren Criss' likable but overexposed Blaine. Glee seems to have lost all interest in using music to advance the plot or define the characters. Worse, it has lost its ability to establish an emotional connection between song and singer, the kind that made Chris Colfer's October version of I Want to Hold Your Hand so moving.
That's the Glee some of us miss, and the Glee some of us want back. Let's hope that's not too much to ask.
source usatoday.com
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