Lubing The Binge Tube
We’re moving along fine with the first seven episodes, filmed and ready to go. But now, in episode eight, we’ve got to deliver the punch that bruises until next season.
Yes, we’ve got the contract for season four, but this is the episode they’ll do all the surveys on to see how hooked the viewers are. Statistics will be culled and then fed to the advertisers, whose soap product is our bread and butter.
The conference room was silent as each of the department heads listened attentively.
Let’s briefly go over what we have and then see where we can take this.
So . . . the main character moves to New York City. She’s from a small town in the midwest, has worked some community theater, and is aiming for Broadway. Nothing new, basic Tube melodrama stuff — but our POW formula, that Patina Of Weird, sure seems to keep the younger audiences glued to the screens.
She gets a job working in Colbert’s office. Television self-references are always a hit, and his cameo got the expected great response. Then there’s the thing with the attempted mugging as she’s going into her building, which the City Council approved because we show the cops’ fast and courteous response. Adding that the assailant was from out of town also helped. Even more so when in the next episode it’s revealed that he’s from another planet. As always, kudos to CGI for the subtle physical transformation that we first see in the jail cell, which then fully flares when he escapes during the court scene.
Ever since Lynch, weirdness has to aim high, and the script writers have been fantastic. The parallel worlds, the assailant’s room when he was a teenager with photographs of our heroine on his walls, the dream sequence when she is Eliza Doolittle and he Henry Higgins. Brilliant.
The scene where they are Abbott & Costello doing the “Who’s On First?” routine didn’t go over quite as well — generational thing — but still fun. Viewers want fun. And bravo the music folks — no surprise if the soundtrack of harpsichord punctuated hip-hop gets nominated for an Emmy.
So — onto the last few episodes. The terrorist attack. The CSI folks matching his and her DNA. The president drinking the truth serum before his speech at the UN. The scene with the monks sitting in the bare room with the baby elephant in the middle was both visually striking and seemingly meaningful. Her sex scenes with Elvis. The calculated implications that characters weren’t who they claimed to be. The chase scene along the High Line.
It has all been dazzling, but let’s think of it all as a foreplay and that now now we need an orgasm to hold us until next year.
Gentlemen, and ladies, please — let’s put our brilliant little heads together and see what we can come up with.
Twenty-three of thirty-one stories — 500 words or less, written one-per-day during December 2018 — The Hunt & Peck Parables PatchWord Quilt™©.
© AleXander Hirka 2019. All Rights Reserved.