Post Scriptum: A Lesson in TV Death

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If life is a dance floor and love is a rhythm, than the family couch and its cushiony thrall to strive for higher levels of human vegetation while mindlessly watching television, must be a grave.

That being said, I imagine my final resting place will provide great repose; the permanent grooves in my pliant pillow seats could undoubtedly double as a coffin-like enclosure for even the living.

But boy, did I ever challenge the bends this week, turning and tossing at the oddities and occurrences during the continuation of finale-fun month.

At this stage in my fan career I’ve come to understand the circle of TV life quite well. September brings the glorious birth (or rebirth) of our favourite shows with new hairdos, opening credits and plotlines on display for the months to come. As the season progresses our plotlines age, either gracefully with utmost poise and satisfaction or with the reckless abandon of a pre-teen that thinks they’re brilliant but know very little at all. When May comes around and the season is ready to graduate, audiences should have a fairly good understanding of what to expect, with a good storm or two of surprises hidden up the sleeve of Mother Show Creator. What constitutes a good surprise? Not rolling down a hill and dying from an unspecified head wound after an ex-boyfriend does nothing but watch on as you take in your last ounces of life’s breath.

I’m sorry, did that lack subtlety? Did the plot of this column come to its under-whelming climax too quickly and did it provide little or no relevance to the build-up I’ve provided so far? Have I turned into that bratty teenager that everyone hates?

Let’s just call that teenager Marissa Cooper, and lets just say that watching her and buddy Ryan hurtle down the side of a cliff to Marissa’s seemingly tragic death during this week’s O.C. finale made me consider abandoning the peaceful repose of my couch-grave for good.

I understand that this is a show that will never match its narrative prowess with the relative prettiness of its actors, but it does often display the kind of wit and woeful angst that can make characters more than shallow caricatures of humans. So what a waste it was to see a character like Marissa Cooper, whose wild-child antics often gave voice to the troubled underbelly of the artificially sparkly Orange County fall to a meaningless death because of a very typical teenage tragedy.

Not only was it an unnecessary turn of events, but it was also preceded by a contrived insistency to wrap up every troubled relationship, and thus by extension, every ounce of dimension Marissa’s character displayed, in a neatly tied bow by the end of the hour.

Anyone who keeps their ear to the ground would have heard of Mischa Barton’s O.C. want-out, but one wonders whether contractual conflicts have lowered story-telling standards so much that no character, or character arc will ever remain sacred to any fan again.

I can’t consider myself a devoted O.C. fan, but as a general representative of TV fandom, it seems an utter waste to have killed a character that has played a big role in the thematic development of the series in such a small, arbitrary way. I’m not saying she should have hopped off a tower to save her bratty little sister or anything, but a death with a little less crash-and-burn and more fight would have done the show some good. At this point it seems that fans who followed the trials and tribulations of young Marissa Cooper don’t have any life lessons to walk away with other than an urgent need to check a pulse, or call for the help deer-in-headlight-faced Ryan never could.

Me? I won’t be checking any pulses because I think this show just flat-lined.

I guess that’s life.