'Ed' Turns to its "Soft Spot"
by: Matthew Ralph

When "Ed" premiered three years ago I gushed. To the point where I was inspired to write a story about the great new program that at the time I thought was sure to be headed toward a similar fate of Freaks and Geeks, one of the only other programs in the past decade I set my VCR to tape when I couldn't watch it (it was literally here today, gone tomorrow).

What struck me about "Ed" was its wit and charm, not to mention a storyline that often hit me straight in the gut. I'm not a lawyer and never will be, but something about watching a New York City lawyer move back to his small hometown in Ohio and buys a bowling alley to try and win over the heart of his unattainable high school crush warmed my spirit. Turns out I wasn't alone. Despite my cynical prediction, enough were struck by the quirky drama to keep it on the air. Would Ed get the girl? Would Carol finally admit to herself that she was in love with him? Sure, that Warren Cheswick kid got on our nerves, but fortunately he didn't Jar Jar Binks the program and show up in every pivotol scene. Unlike so many other shows on television, we the viewer could relate to what was happening on screen.

We didn't just tune in out of curiosity of how trumped up ER procedure works or how expert crime investigators find out who did it. We tuned in because we knew at the end of the hour Ed would still be left with his tail between his legs and the ridiculously beautiful yet painfully inconsistent Carol would still be seesawing in and out about her feelings ãÝup when another woman strikes his fancy, down when he¼s pouring it on thick.

In many ways it was like a train derailed, waiting to crash, or a cool indie band that jumped ship to a major label and suddenly changed its sound and image to sell more records. As the second season steered toward its end, it came into question whether or not the show would even continue another season. How much more could the audience buy into these two dorks who are completely perfect for each other getting together? Once they did, would it eliminate everyone's reason for not trading in their allegiance for another lame yet sometimes hilarious take on "reality" matchmaking?

Watching the season premiere on a crappy VHS tape that has been used far too many times to record the show in the past, it didn't take long for me to make up my mind. I was skeptical when my 16-year-old brother, who is currently in a far more serious relationship than I've ever been in myself, said "um..." when I asked him how the first episode was, followed by, "Ed and Carol straight up do it... More than once." Watching the show and seeing for myself the scenes where they "straight up do it" and then seeing the preview of the next program where they move in together I was less than impressed. Somewhere somebody who finally won the girl they were pining over for years was relating, but for me it was kind of like listening to the new Clem Snide album at the record store before deciding I wasn¼t going to buy it.

The parallel between the band and the show, interestingly enough, is more than just a metaphorical name dropping of some hip indie-rock band. The first and still the best season of the show started with the marvelous song "Moment in the Sun", a small snippet of the group¼s cynical way of handling the late '90s overexposure of recording artist/celebrity Jewel.

Instead of just complaining about hearing and seeing her everywhere, they decided to write a song about what it would be like to be Jewel, tongue planted firmly in cheek. You don¼t get the whole jist in the small snapshot shown in the opening credits, just the "And it¼s my moment in the sun, how beautiful I'll be." It leaves out the whole, "and I think hunger, war, and pain, are bringing everybody down." Hilarious. The album, The Ghost of Fashion, the song was plucked from is even more brilliant than the song that sent geeks like myself out to a record store searching shamelessly for the „band that does the song in Ed.¾ It¼s sharp, witty, cynical, and just downright brilliant. Lines like, „It was all you can eat at the Sizzler that night, my steak burning Joan Jett of Arc,¾ almost bring you to tears they are so darn smart.

Clem Snide¼s moment on "Ed" lasted just one season ã the more commercially viable Foo Fighters replacing the slacker goodness with a more modern rock edge. But the release of the band¼s latest record this past summer seems to have taken the same route as a show seemingly destined for cancelation (though I could be wrong, again).

I'd heard all of the warnings about "Soft Spot" before I listened to it, but I was still curious when I went to listen to it at the store. Hearing that the guy fell in love and had penned sappy songs all over the record in place of his cynical musings of the past, I still wanted to give it a chance. I ended up buying a Bjork record that day instead and it wasn't so much that the album was horrible. It just didn't have the same intensity, the same lyrical content that had me scratching my head and declaring it ingenius all at the same time.

I¼ve watched plenty of sappy movies in my day and have even enjoyed them in the right company, but when push comes to shove they lack intensity; they lack unpredictability. I recently swooned over David Gordon Greene¼s film All the Real Girls, a tender and mildy tragic young love story set in the south, because it tackles the theme with edgy dialogue, subtle humor, and a hard dose of reality. I cheer when the plot is unresolved and the love that seemed so true is challenged, because that is how life works. Everything else is just the female equivalent of a dude watching a porno with his friends. The guy getting the girl and them "straight up doing it" once, twice, best out of seven, kind of defeats the purpose.

posted 10.13.03

2003 White Elephant Productions