I must admit, I have a guilty pleasure. I watch Desperate Housewives.
And yes, the title of this blog is indeed Angry Young Man and the Kitchen Sink, not Angry Young Woman.
It first started because I was bored. I was downloading a whole bunch of television that I had missed and stumbled across Desperate Housewives. It was a pleasant mistake. Since then, I have found that Desperate Housewives is an excellent drama. It is well written. Each episode has its own feeling of a beginning and an end. I always enjoy the little monologues that precede and conclude each episode. They wrap up themes and often highlight them, shedding light on just how tightly structured the show is. The many storylines, the introduction of new characters and the removal of those who are no longer needed, everything is put in by design. Each character is part of an equation that is never quite in balance but always trying.
Desperate Housewives is undoubtedly geared towards females. Males usually will enjoy the action packed antics of Jack Bauer in 24, preferring Sutherland’s gritty delivery over the dramas of the politics of cliques of women in a suburban neighborhood. But as a male, I find myself drawn to the story of Tom Scavo’s inner conflict about his wife’s emotional affair with that young Italian fellow. I feel the outrage of Dylan’s “father”, the police officer. I believe that there is something for everyone in Desperate Housewives.I found the Mother’s Day episode to be particularly touching.
“It happens the second Sunday of every May. We celebrate the women who give us life, and so much more. The ones who protect us at all costs. Who have the courage to fight those who would do us harm. Who put our happiness ahead of their own. But mostly, we celebrate a mother’s love, which is constant, eternal, and there, from the very beginning.”
The music is always appropriate and emotionally charged. It feels that Desperate Housewives is just extremely well crafted. Every scene, every word, every sound, it designed for a particular kind of emotional impact. It is accessible and deep. It is a truly fine specimen of the art of storytelling.
Speaking of music, I was listening to The Best of Miss Peggy Lee, and I came across a familiar sounding track. It was number 11, entitled “Fever”. Instantly, I recognized it as a tune I first came across in Spider-Man 3. But, I had to know for sure. Checking it at 1 hour 37 minutes and 30 seconds (01:37:30), sure enough it was Peggy Lee’s sultry “Fever” being played in the jazz club. However, I do believe it gets jazzed up into something else as Mr. Parker exclaims “Double time!” Too bad Tobey Maguire can’t really pull off the suave bad-ass. He seems a little awkward and a bit of a herb. But it’s okay, Spider-Man is a good guy, and that’s all that matters.
I kind of have a knack for pulling these connections. I first got into Peggy Lee when I heard “Manana (Is Soon Enough For Me)” in Seinfeld. I was watching the special features DVD and believe that someone had mentioned that it was Peggy Lee’s Manana that was playing over the radio when Kramer and Newman were making sausages.
