Movie Box Review

We round out our survey of some of the more notable busted pilots of the season with the distinctive POE, produced by Warner Bros Television for ABC and written by Chris Hollier (a former writer for Kyle XY).  Unfortunately, this pilot stands for the proposition that "distinctive" doesn't necessarily equal "good."  

Poe's distinctiveness, for one thing, is decidedly second-hand.  It's clearly inspired by the Robert Downey Jr Sherlock Holmes movies, with a 19th Century literary figure being reconfigured as an anachronistic action hero.  Here, of course, the unlikely hero is an author rather than a fictional character:  Edgar Allan Poe (played by Chris Egan, who was the male lead in Letters to Juliet and a star of NBC's flop Kings).  We find him living in 1840 Boston as a dashing newspaper reporter (according to the always-reliable Wikipedia, in fact he was living in Philadelphia at the time, writing for literary journals and married to the 18-year old he had wed 5 years earlier, when she was only 13--but no matter). Just so we'll know this really is that Poe, the pilot includes a cask of Amontillado, a woman named Ligeia, and of course a raven.  (There's also a morgue, albeit not noticeably rue.)

The show's Poe is a true believer in the supernatural who solves seemingly impossible crimes for the police on the side, with a sidekick in the gorgeous Celeste (Natalie Dormer, The Tudors' Anne Boleyn), another reporter who's not-so-secretly in love with Edgar and who believes there's a rational explanation for any bizarre phenomenon.  (Mulder, meet Scully.)  They also have an African-American MD (Leslie Odom, Jr) to consult with them, and the inevitable authority figure (Kevin McNally) who sputters at Poe's reckless investigations but has to respect his results. 

The pilot never finds a viable tone.  It's even more anachronistic than the Downey Holmes (in a dance sequence, we watch the couples waltz while the soundtrack plays contemporary pop music), and Egan's performance seems to be a riff on John Barrowman's Captain Jack Harkness from Torchwood; aside from whether Egan is in Barrowman's league (he's not), Captain Jack is very specifically a man living outside of time, which is why the original performance makes sense.  Poe, supposedly an actual person living in 1840, just sounds silly as he bounds around in period costume, but acts like he's just back from lunch in Brentwood.

The show doesn't have much to recommend it on any other level, either.  The pilot's plot is complicated without being satisfying (women seemingly possessed by demons are actually being drugged by the villain so they'll commit murders for him), and when the show has Poe giving little attention to Celeste in order to moon after ex-fiance Sarah (Tabrett Bethell), it seems to be asking us to question his intelligence.  (Although I guess this Poe shows better judgment than the real one, staying away from 13-year-olds and all.)  Director Alex Graves tries, despite what must have been a limited budget, to give the show a polished look, but it still feels pretty cheap.  

Take the era of Mad Men, mix with the millieu of Boardwalk Empire, then remove most of the brains... and that's pretty much the formula for NBC's THE PLAYBOY CLUB.  What remains isn't particularly deep, but it's a glamorous, fairly diverting piece of melodrama.

If Playboy Club feels dated even for a show set in the 1960s, it's because really, it's more of a slightly updated version of the backstage dramas Warner Brothers used to churn out in the 1930s and 40s. (Squint and you can see Jean Harlow, William Powell and Bette Davis in the leads.)   Set in the original Chicago Playboy Club, Chad Hodge's script (he previously worked on The CW's shortlived Runaway) offers hints that racial and gender issues are happening outside the confines of the club, but mostly the story is about a gorgeous small town girl--an orphan, no less-- who's come to the big city to become a star (Amber Heard), a shady lawyer who's smitten with her but perhaps not to be trusted (Eddie Cibrian), and the slightly older showgirl who's jealous of the girl and knows all the tricks (Laura Benanti).  This stuff may be hokey, but it's been working in one way or another for 75 years, and throw in an accidental killing and some central casting gangsters, and it's still got some charm. 

It helps that while Heard probably isn't the next great Medea of the stage, she's not just stunning but charismatic, and that Benanti, a Broadway veteran, has plenty of acting (and singing) chops; not so much that Cibrian gives what amounts to an extended Jon Hamm imitation.  The supporting cast is mostly made up of lovely young women who don't get much to do in the pilot, plus David Krumholtz in the Jack Carson role of the club manager.  (The nostalgic voice-over narration from what seems to be the actual aged Hef doesn't add much.)  Alan Taylor, who's directed his share of Mad Men episodes, was behind the camera for the pilot, and the production design is sumptuous. 

Playboy Club's direct competitors are Castle and Hawaii 5-0 on Mondays, so it definitely brings something different to the hour (Mitch Metcalf's Monday night analysis has it firmly in 3rd place in the slot, but that's mostly because The Sing-Off is by far the weakest lead-in of the evening). Creatively, the show is about an inch away from being camp; everyone involved should be forced to watch the recent bomb Burlesque as an example of what not to do.  On its own terms, though, it offers unquestionable eye candy and the possibility of moderate fun.