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Love it or hate it, everyone's talking about "Tainted Love."
Certainly, there's a lot to love, not the least of which is Michael Easton.
The notion of the good people of Port Chuck suddenly developing bloodlust is helped
immeasurably by Easton's smoldering Caleb. Or the forbidden passion of Father
Michael, if that's your thing. You need only take a look at the number of "I
Want to be Bitten by Caleb" clubs which have popped up in recent weeks to
see what an impression he's made. I'd love to see either Passion's Juliet
Mills or Josh Ryan Evans try that.
The other big plus is the show's go-for-broke tone. With the cancellation axe
hanging over the hospital like the sword of Damocles, almost every member of the
cast has kicked it up a notch. Lynn Herring is doing her best Lucy, cheesy faux-Tarot
or not. Ion Overman is giving her best performance ever, playing vampire slut
Gabi with an enthusiasm saintly Nurse Gabi never knew. Thorsten Kaye and Julie
Pinson have remembered how to be cute. Jon Lindstrom is solid, both as Scully
to Lucy's Mulder, and in his newer role as Livvie's dad.
And there's the show's production values, which have benefited from spillover
from Jill Führer (oops, I mean Farren) Phelps' style of wretched excess over
on GH. We've seen great improvements in the show's standing sets (particularly
the Great Outdoors, which looks much less plastic than usual), actual location
shooting, an on-set fog machine cranked up to the max, and dozens of extras in
crowd scenes. Many are bikers. And that's always pretty cool.
All this, RuPaul, and the best New Wave song from the 80s. What's not to love?
Well, a few things. Chiefly, the teens. Kiko Ellsworth and Erin Hershey are
perfectly fine (though Hershey doesn't really get to do anything), but Bryan Pressly
and Kelly Monaco are not. Pressly is giving it the old junior college try, but
he's suffused by a blandness that doesn't befit the over-the-top material. And
Monaco, who was fine opposite Lindstrom and Kimberlin Brown, appears to be sleepwalking
through her scenes with Pressly and Easton. In and of itself, this is not a fatal
flaw, but considering how integral the pair is to the novella, it weighs the rest
of the arc down.
The whole exercise is what Hitchcock would call a refrigerator story. So, put
your brain on autopilot, and try to enjoy the ride. There may not be much more
to come.
Until next time, Port Chuck?
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