Sunday, September 11, 2016

White Collar TV Show Review

This isn't the only phone camera shot I took of this series. And there are X number of episodes left in this mess of television stuff. I don't even know how to write about it.  I slogged through the first 10 episodes of the first season. And there are. Five more seasons. 5. And the reviewers rate this thing 8 of 10 stars. Absent deliberate ongoing planetary obliteration, this year's run for POTUS and oil company manipulation of the universe, this is the next annihilation of anything posing as intelligent left in the universe I want obliterated. If you can't spell, HIRE SOMEONE. A couple of the screen shots were of the highest end premier in the fashion universe episode. The biggest pink diamond ever. With background holes in the ceiling set. Holes. Nobody bothered with that. I take my rare pink diamonds seriously. As does Aja Raden. But not this show.

Gee. It's about the money, innit? Dumber is better. Lamer sells. Kill me now.

Let's start with Neal. The man has access to a tasteful millionaire Black Man's wardrobe, and he wears brown shoes with a blue suit. And one stylish hat. He is a notorious international forger criminal and he walks like a studied hipster. Think Draggable Dan, from the first web goofball character. He has blue eyes with tiny pupils. He couldn't look sinister on a billion dollar bet. And the eyes the producers think are cool wouldn't be instantly recognizable anywhere. And he goofs up. Enough to be caught by Peter Burke. Twice.

Peter Burke. A schlep, who stands on, through the 10 episodes I could stand to watch,  his singular reputation for capturing Neal Whozits twice. Oh Lord, can we please buy this guy some lips?

And here we are at Burke's wife El. She is a successful event planner, seen in one episode on her phone on the street telling the caller that 10 tables with 20 people each will look elegant. OK. No. That's Madison Square Garden pregame at a Knicks event. The next episode with her actual life involves inviting her husband (NOT) to bring Neal (who has TASTE) to sample a lunch from a caterer she's interviewing. Her husband (who, lucky for us stupid ass viewers are informed has no taste at all) pulls a Tom Hanks from Big and almost spits his pate, while Neal tastefully agrees.

And she runs Peter Burke like a watch. Can we spell stereotypical henpecked, boys? Here are 2 pictures of a wife in a TV series. Please identify the patriarchy prototype.

Hair on this show. It's all the same. I'm done with the lank long tresses, colored in a bizarre combination of Crayola Brown and Tumbleweed, twisted down a back, and limped over the front for every female on the show.

Ditto the short dresses, tall heels on actresses who can't walk in them particularly showcasing really bad asses. No, I don't mean bad asses. I mean these boys wouldn't know a good ass if they had it planted on their face.

Geez. The story. I saw 10 episodes hoping for better story. No. And there are F I V E more  highly rated seasons that I hope to die before I watch.

Thank (your higher power here) for Willie Garson without whom.