Skip to main content

New TV

 Surely, the worst series on TV right now is "Keeper of the Ashes," starring Kristin Chenoweth.


An amazing display of tastelessness and narcissism, "Keeper of the Ashes" should never have made it past the drafting stage. It's the true story of a brutal killing in Oklahoma; back in the seventies, someone murdered three sleeping Girl Scouts at a rural camp. Kristin Chenoweth had nothing to do with this story--truly, nothing--but since, at one point, her family *considered* sending her to the camp, she believes that the tale of the murders is her tale to tell.

Chenoweth doesn't do any investigative work; she just pops up every thirty minutes to say, "It was that weekend when I learned the meaning of evil...." Or: "The people of Oklahoma are like red clay soil. We all just stick together." Or: "I went to the same school as one of the three victims. I didn't know her, but I might have said hello in the hallway. I might have been, like, Hey...."

All of this is especially jarring because the bulk of the show is about sexual assault, misconceptions about Native Americans, and the violent deaths of children.

I have no idea what the title means; I know Chenoweth explained the choice, but my mind was wandering.

"Whenever I grow tired of this crazy show business," says Chenoweth, "I return to Broken Arrow....and I feel grounded once again...."

No one loves Ms. Chenoweth more than I, but I have to hope that she'll get a new manager. I'm stunned by some of the choices Hulu is making.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...
1 comment
Read more

My Favorite Pop Song

  One thing I admire about Prince is his weirdly pretentious verses: Dream, if you can, a courtyard-- An ocean of violets in bloom. Also: Touch, if you will, my stomach. Feel how it trembles inside. No one else writes like this. Did people try to shoot down these choices? Did a producer say, "We'd like to rethink this one... Touch, if you will, my stomach...."  I can't help but wonder. But it's the chorus that makes this a classic. It's direct and universal--and it ends with that bizarre flourish, the allusion to "the crying doves." (Prince's song was number one in America for quite a while; it defeated Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark.") How can you just leave me standing-- Alone in a world that's so cold? Maybe I'm just too demanding. Maybe I'm just like my father--too bold. Maybe you're just like my mother; She's never satisfied. Why do we scream at each other? This is what it sounds like when doves cr...
Post a Comment
Read more