It’s been years since I’ve watched a first-run network television show, but last night I made an exception for ABC’s revision of the 1980’s classic “V”.
The original “V” began as a 1983 four-hour mini-series exploring the methods of a fascist power gaining control of a free society. In this case, a species of advanced space aliens arriving on Earth promising friendship and an exchange of resources and technology, but manipulating our culture behind the scenes to take over for their own appalling purposes. Its cliffhanger ending and ratings success led to an equally successful six-hour sequel, “V: The Final Battle”, and soon after a weekly series which failed quickly. I’m one of many who remember fondly the best aspects of the “V” experience as an artful blend of science fiction action/adventure with intriguing socio-political commentary.
This new version of “V” made an immediate impression with its spectacular effects and lavish production, and given my own political sympathies I relished the none-too-subtle slaps at the culture of Obama-nation. The introductory hour passed quickly, but when it was over I began questioning the storytelling style. How much of my enjoyment of last night’s episode was derived vicariously from my memories of the first “V”? If not for that first incarnation, would I have grasped the implications of the events I was seeing? After this hour, would I have a sense of the characters involved, or where all of this blue-hued quick-cutting action was leading?
I fear that the new “V” will be another example of the trend in television drama — a “Twin Peaks”-esqe curiosity replacing coherence, the piling on of mysteries upon mysteries week after week until we begin to wonder if anyone behind this knows where they’re going, the sense that if we miss one week’s episode we’ll be forever…”Lost”?
I mourn the decline and fall of the anthology series — “Alfred Hitchcock Presents”, “Suspense Theater”, “The Outer Limits”, “The Twilight Zone” and all the other examples of cinematic short stories. There was a mix of freedom for the writer to tell a tight story, together with the constraint to tell that story within 23 or 50 minutes, but the audience had absolute freedom. Perhaps the quality varied from week to week, but if one episode missed its target a complete restart was only a week away.
I’ll give the new “V” — beloved for the sake of its forefathers — another two weeks. If it looks like it will be the kind of show designed to spur next morning debates around the proverbial water cooler, I’ll have to find a more satisfying way to spend an hour a week. Endless flirting and a lack of commitment are rightly seen as annoying in human relationships, and I find it tedious in drama as well. “V” may yet work as an indictment of our gullibility, if it doesn’t become itself an example of it.



