Falling off my radar.
Since it premiered this past fall, Ugly Betty has become that one show that I religiously record every week only to have to force myself to actually watch (despite enjoying it when I do). Maybe it’s because Thursday night is all ready a busy night of the week for television, or maybe because the last thing I’m thinking about come Friday morning is watching an hour-long dramedy that seems to have Frank DeCaro as an art director. Still, when I do get around to pressing play, I tend to find the show regularly funny, occasionally hilarious, and constantly pleasant. Perhaps it’s a little too pleasant. Ugly Betty’s biggest fault is perhaps its strongest selling point: optimism. Maybe it’s these cynical times, but the “idea” of a show as rosy as this one kind of turns me off — a sad commentary on the state of affairs. It’s the bleak, depressing halogen bulbs of The Office that make me laugh the hardest each week. It’s the blood soaked and impoverished streets of West Baltimore in The Wire that elicits the deepest emotional reactions from me. Where, exactly does “cheer” fit into that equation?
Right now I have a month’s worth of Betty saved to my DVR, waiting for this almost fictional future where I’ll say to myself, “Hey, whatever happened to that style-impaired ethnic friend of ours, and her zany adventures in a cartoonish New York fashion industry?” I want that day to come, but I mostly doubt it ever will. I enjoy the fact that this show is a success and I want it to succeed. My friends who watch it say the past few weeks have been quite good — I’m sure they have been — though when I cycle through my saved programs its name reads as an annoyance more than a thrill.
Sorry Betty for being and Ugly American.
