Over the last few weeks, as I've strutted and fretted my way through being really no closer to finished with my law school application process, I've realized a few things about television. First, that I've been stuck in too many P.A. positions as a result of taking any job that I could, and thus will likely remain too typecast to make an upwardly-mobile career out of it. I had my suspicions, which was a big part of my reason for applying to law school in the first place, but there it is.

Secondly, though I know I can't really go back to it for a while, and I'm not backing down from my current plan, I still love it. I love the work, I love the people, all of it. It's the hectic, creative-solutions-on-impossible-deadlines thrill of film, but tempered by professionalism and some semblance of a routine as to how things get done.

Thirdly, and this is what's important, is that we're now, truly and finally, in the golden age of the medium. Not only do we get to live through it, but it's being aimed at our demographic as well. And considering we got the same treatment for alterna-rock, hip-hop, and video games already, I'd say we're one lucky generation of pop-culture consumers. Sure, Freaks and Geeks and Arrested Development were killed before their time, but never before now would we have had such shows to begin with. Family Guy was cancelled, and then brought back because we demanded it. HBO has taken up reigns to create the most daring series they can and to just let their auteurs run with their visions, trusting for maybe the first time in the medium's history that the audience will get it. And all the other networks are busting their asses to follow the example.

Over the last month or so, I've been introduced to three separate shows, two of which are regularly cited as the best on air, and the third of which is quickly moving to that place itself. And honestly, all are better than 99.9% of all that has come before.

so as a public service announcement that's between five weeks and two years late, I give you...

THREE POPULAR SHOWS TO WATCH RELIGIOUSLY

Hurley asks for advice on that "not so fresh" feeling

LOST (ABC, Wednesdays, 9:00 EST)

I know you're probably already watching it ("you" being "someone outside of my actual tiny readership, most of whom aren't") but I didn't give it a shot until about three weeks ago, imagining it to be, essentially, a trashy fictionalized retelling of Survivor, which is actually how it was originally pitched. J.J. Abrahms and the rest of the production team didn't get involved until after a new treatment was put together, and it shows. What's there now is the human drama of people not only surviving their present circumstances, but also the guilt and shadow of their previous lives. One of the running themes (and there are many, which are all handled deftly and are never too heavy-handed) is the idea of a chance at rebirth on the Island, and how difficult it is for people to accept the opportunity. Those who do (notably Charlie, Locke, and Mr. Eko) suffer fear and trepidation from their fellow castaways, while those who don't (Kate, Sawyer) experience similar downfalls as they did back home. And as it goes on, all fall somewhere in between. Charlie gives up the smack, but keeps a stash of it around just in case. Sayid falls in love, and aims for nobility, but his soldier/torturer instincts still kick in in the clutch. Sawyer gives up the con, but can't change the way he generally deals with people. And Jack, well, Jack sees himself as too much the hero to see the need for change.

Most interesting of all of these are Sun and Jin, the married Korean couple, and one of the few pairs who knew each other before the crash. Sure, Rose and Bernard have been married, but not for very long, and they're barely seen twice a season, and Boone and Shannon certainly had a life-long history, but, well... (sniff)

Sun and Jin's history is of a beautiful courtship, across class and social boundaries, which would've played out as happily ever after if those boundaries hadn't kept coming back for vengeance. Jin gives his entire life for Sun, and they truly love and cherish one another, but the things he must do for her father break him down, and he begins to resent her, though he never relents on his duty to her. Still, what evidence Sun has of Jin's dealings lead her to fear both him and her father, and so she makes arrangements to leave, after having learned enough English to make it in the states. But then Jae, her English teacher, shom she almost married before meeting Jin (and finding out that Jae had a lover in New York) starts an affair with her. It's as understandable as any affair could possibly be, in that she was already leaving a dangerous husband to begin with, and Jae wanted to remain honorable to her. I could go on and on, as there's much more to this story, but once the two get to the Island, there's nothing holding them back from recreating what they had before, and indeed they do, in bits and spurts, but now the machinations of class and society are replaced with the truth of what they did in Soeul, and the past is constantly nipping at their heels.

That's just one of dozens of interwining stories that lay the background for a primary tale of mystery, science, and religion that raises five questions for every one that it answers. ANd it manages to never contradict itself. A marvel of craftsmanship and beauty, and with something to say beneath all the hype. In otherwords, a helluva lot more than CSI is capable of.

Key moment: in "Walkabout," as Claire gives a memorial service for those dead from the plane crash, using whatever little information could be gathered from the fuselage. The tear in your eye comes roughly the moment when she reads off the late-fees that one member had at his video store, because that's all that they know about him.

Also, the light turning on in the hatch. For anyone who hasn't seen it, I won't say aymore, but it's a masterstroke that sends chills down your spine, and can actually make you believe in life again.

My site, I get to pick my girl, dammit.

BATTLESTAR GALACTICA (Sci-Fi Channel, Fridays, 9:00 EST)

Alarmingly similar to Lost in all aspects except for setting we find the little Sci-Fi show that could. A disclaimer/qualifier: as a general rule, I tend to hate sci-fi, for much the same reason that I tend to hate westerns. Genres based on setting (space - future; Western U.S. - mid-1800's, etc.) devolve into a dependence on those settings in order to hang limpid stories of people shooting at eachother. Now I love good action - I'm one of the few people who loved all three Matrix movies - but I just hate bullshit like The Fifth Element, where the only point was to dress up a godawful story with flashy ships and Milla Jovovich wearing approximately five pieces of scotch tape. Moreover, I positively loathe Star Trek, in which nothing has ever mattered, and the whole point has been to spout geek-rhythms for the hive mind to spout back. The problems are made-up, and have no relation to anything in real life, and are solved with equally invented solutions with no bearing to life as it's lived. And in general, everything works out, because the federation is good. Fuck you, Star Trek.

BSG is more in league with Gattaca or The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in that it remembers that Sci-Fi was originally created as an allegory for the world in which we live, rather than an escape from it. It too involves survivors dealing with their present situation, and how they can't run away from their pasts, and focuses on the human level of things. The season 2 opener features a desperate man standing up for the safety of the traitorous woman carrying his child, a high-ranking military pilot standing up to a military coup, even though he dissaproves of the actions of the deposed president, a dying man on an enemy-occupied planet who's happy to simply being hearing birds again, and prayer between a prisoner and her guard.

It also includes Sharon AKA Boomer AKA No. 8, a Cylon (machine; enemy) who has only ever known herself as human, who returned in the season 1 finale a hero, only to have her robot instincts take over just long enough for her to shoot the fleet commander. She spent the first season in self denial about her true nature despite all the evidence against her, using the entirity of her willpower to keep fighting for the human race, and when the evidence got to be too much, she tried to kill herself to prevent the possibility of hurting anyone. Now she's held in a cell and beaten for making sure that she didn't kill the commander, an act that her greater consciousness never would have committed. She's as tragic a figure as you'll find on the tube, and too many people will never see her in action on account of it being a "sci-fi" show.

Key Moment: "33" President Roslyn, after spending an entire episode subtracting numbers from her whiteboard tally of survivors, gets word from Billy, her assistant, that there's yet one more update.

"How many do I subtract?"
"No, it's an addition this time. A baby was born... a boy."

As Billy leaves, Roslyn erases the final digit (a 2) to replace it with a 3, and then breaks down crying.

Also, the victory in "Hand of God," with all the swirling celtic score that entails.

Saturday Night Noir

Studio 60* (*plus another part of the title that I refuse to acknowledge) just aired episode number five, and is two seasons behind the others in establishing just what story it's trying to tell. To be fair, the other two shows I discuss here are as high-concept as it gets, and this one is about the new hands in charge of a late-nite sketch comedy show, so this one is bound to be a little more freeform. Also, it's in the rare position of being good enough to have the small flaws become jarring at times.

For one thing, the show was on paper an almost exact cross between SportsNight and The West Wing, which meant that we had no idea what to expect from it. What we got was exactly that cross, seemingly with the Sorkin/Schlamme team having no idea what exactly to do with it. Slowly, though (hopefully not too slowly for NBC) the picture is coming into focus, as Matt and Harriet dance around and towards each other. Then there's the other story of Jordan McDeere fighting the demons of crass commercialism to try to redefine the network as high class. Unfortunately, those are the only two stories we've got right now. Bradly Whitford is almost non-existent after just five episodes, though he's supposedly the main character, and D.L. Hughley and Nate Corrdry are just comic relief so far. It's an ensemble show, and can't survive based on what's on the table right now, but it's also in it's infancy, so maybe I just need to have some faith.

I guess the problem is that, in SportsNight, the show's survival was always on the line. Likewise, in The West Wing, they started off with low approval numbers and then moved onto politics being a constant struggle, not just for survival, but for your soul as well. In Studio 60, they start off at the top, and then try to make a mountain out of the molehill of "quality comedy." Still, Sorkin's one of the best writers in t.v., so maybe this'll work itself out once they get tired of beating the dead horse.

The second problem, and I can't not mention it, is that the show-within-the-show isn't actually funny. This is true, though it's getting a lot better. The thing is, it's true for a very good reason. The big show is generally subdued and naturalistic. This doesn't really jibe with the manic nature of a comedy, particularly considering that the big story doesn't halt for the little sketches. Remember, the play-within-a-play in "Noises Off" wasn't funny either; "Itchy and Scratchy" hasn't ever been funny; and even as the sketch-writing gets funnier, it can only ever ascend to the level of "appreciably humorous," because the characters making the jokes and pratfalls are always in control. Comedy, like any other kind of acting, requires the suspension of disbelief. Hence, they need to keep beefing up the "News 60" segment, which is weekly, uses their two funniest actors, and acts more like stand-up than a real sketch.

Now, Sarah Paulson has proven herself to be a badass, layering what anybody else would've turned into a flat character with humor and humanity to spare. In order to give us a running arc, we've been a little bit browbeaten with the fact that Harriet's a Born-Again Christian and that Matt's favorite target is the religious right. Now I have several church-going, Christian friends, all of whom fall into the same "common faith doesn't mean that I buy into everything Pat Robertson says" camp as Harriet, and guess what? Nobody's shocked. I get what the show's trying to say, that Christianity and Liberalism aren't enemies, but in making such a big deal out of her faith every single episode they make her appear too much the exception and not the rule. Thankfully, the writers seem to get this, finally, and had her say that anywhere outside of Washington or Hollywood, nobody would find her beliefs to be newsworthy.

I'm still waiting to know more about Danny, Tom, Simon, Jeanie, and particularly Cal, the inimitable Timothy Busfield who actually will direct some shows this season, apparently.

Key Moments: "The Long Lead Story" I know it seems like I'm taking every chance to pan a show I'm telling you all to watch immediately, but there's a good reason for it. With Lost and BSG I came into them not expecting much, and was blown away. Meanwhile, I know, like, every word of everything Sorkin's ever written, and so my standards for Studio 60* were a tad bit higher. Plus I know what he's capable of, and in the off chance that anyone with the show ever reads this, I want them to know that they're doing a kick-ass job, but that there's still room for improvement. As far as the kick-ass, though, you need look no further than "The Long Lead Story," their best episode so far, and damn-near perfect from start to finish. And holy shit what a finish, as Harriet finds Matt on the catwalk, beer in his hand, watching the sublime Sting performance of "Fields of Gold" on just a lute. I don't even like Sting, but this was just gorgeous and perfect. I think I held my breath through the entire song, as the two ersatz lovers exchange small talk and big looks, and a thousand beautiful things that they say without saying, and though they don't kiss at the end of it, a kiss would've cheapened the moment. Instead, having her walk away, and the fade to black and credits at the end of the song, tells you everything you need to know, and tells you that the show is on it's feet and running.

Also: Give us a fucking Cal or Danny story already, dammit!