Last week USA debuted a new original program, adding to its successful lineup of shows that carefully modify a very specific formula. USA has Monk and Psych, shows about quirky detectives who aid the police in investigating crime, it has Burn Notice and Royal Pains, about quirky men who have to fly under the official radar of their given professions and use their particular skill sets to help people, and it has In Plain Sight, about a quirky female U.S. Marshal who bends the rules to protect witnesses. The shows all have a meticulously calibrated tone, a thoughtfully balanced mix of humor, thrill, mystery and poignancy meant to satisfy every possible dramatic desire. Just when it’s starting to seem too serious, someone cracks a stupid joke. Just when the main character starts to act too strange or un-relatable, he (it’s mostly he) does some goofy heart-warming thing to remind us why we care. Just when you start to feel pretty comfortable and the formula starts to get predictable, something exciting happens and shakes things up just enough to be unexpected. It’s television designed to satisfy, beginning with the pleasantly odd main character and carrying through to the aspirational luxury settings (Miami, the Hamptons, Santa Monica, etc.)
Straight guy on the left (you can tell by the gun holsters), wacky guy on the right (you can tell by the skinny tie)
Wow, that weird Spanish bond issued during WWII *does* look fake!
The newest iteration of this formula is White Collar, a show about an FBI agent who investigates white collar crimes and his new partner, a felon he releases from prison to help solve a particularly stubborn case. Together they fill every requirement for a buddy cop show – one is a straight arrow (and married to Tiffany Amber Thiessen of Saved by the Bell fame), one is downright wackadoo. One lives reasonably within his means; the other has managed to wiggle into the guest room of a completely implausible mansion, in spite of his telltale GPS ankle bracelet. Although my intellectual response to the pilot was something along the lines of “oh look, he’s got an oddly quirky partner now!” and “gee, how funny for the felon to live in a gorgeous mansion,” it would be dishonest of me to discount that it was also an effective, satisfying hour of entertainment. The two main characters are charismatic and appealing. The crime, an elaborate historical forgery scheme, was totally ridiculous and twisty. I’ll admit it, I laughed. And I like a good fake Spanish bond with a Goya printed on the top, issued during World War II and now worth a quarter of a million dollars, as much as the next gal.
White Collar succeeds largely because it works from a premise that hits USA’s entire branded checklist of programming in an especially pleasing way. The main characters on In Plain Sight and Royal Pains do jobs that are exciting and dramatic (U.S. Marshal, doctor), but contain little fantasy. Burn Notice has been much more successful because its main character is a spy, which allows the writers to explore a world of absurd plots and characters fully in keeping with the over-the-top, luxurious, glamorous spray-tanned background of Miami. White Collar fiddled with the formula a bit – divide the protagonist spot between two characters, let one of them be fairly normal, but investigating white collar criminals gives the writers a free pass to spin out endless, exciting Oceans Eleven scenarios. And although the show is set in grittier, colder New York City, the weather has been remarkably obedient to USA’s rule about blue skies.
What a lovely rooftop you have, recently released felon. And what fetching topiaries.
I may scoff at USA’s rigid, cookie-cutter method for producing new shows. But if the cookie cutter makes entertaining cookies, who am I to judge?