Filthy, sexy, moolah

Saw the pilot episode of Dirty Sexy Money Sunday night on a local channel. Another dose of dysfunctional American families. It’s so TV (writers’) fodder don’t you think, that though it’s practically entertaining (sensational, I admit is hilarious and witty at times) it tends to be mythic. Is it? I doubt. How do you gauge dysfunction? Is it the frequency, magnitude of human frailty and imperfections? That when collective or familial are vestiges of deviancy or when it carelessly stray beyond the levels of tolerance? Those that kiss cheek-to-cheek with the Burnhams of American Beauty and the Fishers of Six Feet Under. Wait, these are all Alan Ball creations. Oh, wicked.

Anyway, so the pilot opens with unabashed sensationalism and spectacle. We get to see the family in focus: the Darlings, which we will come to know in a matter of minutes, a far cry from the surname. They cannot be blamed, they can afford to be wasteful, they’re rich. In fact, the richest in New York. So every misdemeanor and coke-snorting behavior is no big deal, just leave it to the tinkering of their lawyer. Atty. George’s private plane however crashed at sea leaving no traces whether he’s dead or just disappeared. His son, Nick, played by Peter Krause, vows to track down the murderer. He seems to believe such. He’s however forced to inherit his father’s job (after he is convinced that he can still perform his humanitarian duties) by patriarch Trip Darling, played by Donald Sutherland and much to the chagrin of Reverend Brian, the badass, expletive-mouthing second son and Nick’s childhood nemesis. Yes, he is a short-tempered priest whose son was refused to be admitted to an exclusive school unless he acknowledges the kid.

Enter mother Letitia, played by Jill Clayburgh, who smashed a heavy vase to smithereens (gosh, I love saying that word) to redirect the focus of a family conversation. Exactly right there, I remembered her munching dog food and convincing a young Augusten Burroughs that eating such is safe in the film adaptation of Running with Scissors. William Baldwin plays the eldest son, forgot the name, an attorney-general. During the birthday party thrown for Mrs. Darling, Mr. on-his-way-to-becoming-a-US-senator is jolted by a call of pretty woman waiting for him downstairs. Then the unwanted visitor speaks in baritone. What the, Mr. Clean Slate is having an affair with a tranny. There’s also Karen, the elder daughter who’s still fixated with Nick that she discloses to her fiancé in a devil-may-care attitude, Nick’s deflowering of her during (of all time) their pre-nuptial meeting, with (of all people) Nick as their presiding lawyer. Then add in the attention-deficient daughter who wants to “get a life” and the yacht-slacking youngest who drove a horse to mother’s birthday party but much to the delight of mother dear though.

Whew, that’s a fucking mouthful. I guess I really would be looking forward to Sunday nights. Sorry for the spoilers. Haha.