Culture Blues

As pop culture aficionados, your friends at Culture Blues are not immune to the end-of-decade lists currently overwhelming the internet. As the year comes to a close, and we get progressively lazier, please enjoy Listmania, where Culture Blues ranks their favorite shit in a bunch of different categories.

By the time the new millennium began, HBO had already revolutionized television. With offerings like The Sopranos and Oz, the premium cable channel proved that prestige programming could not only become appointment television but flourish in the DVD market as well. Other cable networks got into the game with compelling dramas and subversive comedies that broke the episodic mold favored by the big networks. Apparently, those big networks were the last to hear that their medium had been revolutionized as, to this day, they struggle to find content that can succeed. In short, the last decade was a renaissance for television, with a plethora of quality shows just begging you to waste an afternoon running through their DVDs.

Rather than create a comprehensive list of the best shows of the decade, we at Culture Blues asked our couch potato contributors to highlight their favorite single seasons of television. We applied only one rule: that no show could appear twice on our countdown. Below are the results.

Our panel:  Jeff Hart, Jeremiah White, Bill Magee, Cheese, and Jason Arican

Warning, there may be spoilers below.

It’s hard to remember now, but when Scrubs premiered, it was a fresh, funny and poignant examination of the grueling, nerve-racking initiation into the medical profession. Resisting the slacker milieu that writers find it all too easy to wallow in, Scrubs gave us passionate, driven, neurotic protagonists facing the harsh realities of the health care industry, balanced with offbeat humor, wacky pop culture references and a great deal of heart. We were also introduced to Dr. Cox and Dr. Kelso (my personal favorite), two wonderful creations by two terrific actors (John C. McGinley and Ken Jenkins respectively). Before they became tired self parodies (especially Cox), they were both intimidating, sharp-tongued and funny as hell. And the best scene in Season 1? The last one. Memorable and loaded with palpable tension, a whole season’s worth of dirty laundry is aired out as the characters all turn their backs on each other. It was a high watermark for the series. (Jeremiah)

Inevitably, Aaron Sorkin’s Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip will be remembered as a star-studded flop, a footnote in the Wikipedia entry for Tina Fey’s 30 Rock. But, before it succumbed to Sorkin’s heavy-handed and frankly out-of-place politics, and its stunning inability to actually be funny, those first six or so episodes of Studio 60 were pretty damn good. Fast-paced, cleverly written, and carried by the undeniable chemistry between co-leads Bradley Whitford and Chandler Bing, the show flourished when dealing with the new producers’ attempts to overcome backstage politics and resurrect a struggling sketch comedy show. Remember Studio 60 for those compelling early moments and not for the Sorkian hubris that would characterize the end of its shortened run. In the end, Studio 60 probably could have succeeded with less kidnapped soldiers and more werewolf bar mitzvah. (Jeff)

No show vacillates between brilliant and terrible as often or as rapidly as South Park. Every season seems to feature classic episodes and ones that are a struggle to get through (even though they usually produce a few genuine laughs). Overall, Matt Parker and Trey Stone’s foul mouthed friends had a great decade, but one season stands out to me. Season 5 introduced us to a stoner towel and Kyle’s uber-Jewish cousin. It ends with Kenny’s first real death and then an extremely dark and hilarious episode dedicated to Butters Stotch. “Scott Tenorman Must Die” sees Cartman at his maniacal best as he attempts to get revenge on an older boy and “Cripple Fight” blesses us with a shot by shot recreation of the famous fight from They Live, but with disabled kids. And the season kicks off with “It Hits the Fan.” This remarkable episode mocks the outrage over swear words, eviscerates network TV executives and their attempts to be edgy, and manages to say “shit” 162 times on a regular cable channel. It’s certainly not their funniest episode, but it’s one of the best examples of their ability to create intelligent, thought provoking TV in their own warped way. (Jeremiah)

Russell T. Davies brought the latest incarnation of the Doctor Who serial back to the BBC in 2005. But it isn’t until 2007’s third season that the show really hits its stride.  Episodes like “The Family of Blood,” “Blink,” “Utopia” and “The Sound of the Drums” are all classics and are what real science fiction writing is all about. Science fiction should make you scared, curious and amazed all at the same time, and the third season of Doctor Who nails that. Unfortunately the great David Tennant is ending his run as the ninth Doctor on New Year’s Day. With a new Doctor set to take over I can only hope he will do half as good a job in the new decade as Tennant did in the last. (Cheese)

By 2003, Buffy the Vampire Slayer was off the air and its ratings-poor spinoff Angel was in its death throes. Angel, named for its pre-Edward brooding vampire with a soul hero, will never be what people gravitate to when they go over Joss Whedon’s impressive resume, but its fifth and final season was actually pretty awesome. Maybe it was the sentimental quality – one last run for the so-called Buffyverse (I cringe calling it that), a pair of TV shows that gave us 12 seasons and 254 episodes of varying quality. Maybe it was the fact that Angel, while never forsaking the trademark Whedon charm and snark, was darker and more violent than Buffy, and capable of some truly badass fight sequences. Maybe it was the pair of chill-moment level death scenes that slapped a tragic exclamation point on the series finale. Or, most likely, it was that episode where Angel gets turned into a puppet. Worth watching 254 episodes of Buffy and Angel to truly appreciate? Probably not. Worth noting on this list? Absolutely. (Jeff)

The IT Crowd hails from Great Britain and is one of the funniest shows on television.  I doubt very many of you have even heard of this show let alone seen it. The IT Crowd centers on three coworkers in the information technology department of a fictional mega corporation, and is about pretty much anything but computers. You do not have to be a fan of British humor to enjoy this show. Of three seasons so far (all of them short six episode Brit seasons), the strongest is probably season two. It includes a tremendous dinner party episode, an episode that paints cutting out of work for a smoke break with communist era paranoiac overtones, and the introduction of the hilarious Matt Berry. IFC TV will be running past episodes of this show starting January 27^th and you can also watch episodes streaming on Netflix. (Cheese)

While I haven't seen all 19 seasons of Survivor (thank god!), I believe that its second season, The Australian Outback, is its best. There was all the drama you could eat. You had the villainous Jerri fabricating a story of seeing nice, not-too-bright guy Kel eating smuggled beef jerky (Jerkygate as it was called online), which got him voted off early.  You had dumbass vegetarian Kimmi refusing to eat bugs and then getting her panties in a twist about some chickens her tribe had been rewarded, leading to a delightful argument with the fierce Alicia which climaxed with "I'm sick of you and the fucking chickens!" (I think I climaxed as well).  And then there was the rise of Elisabeth Filarski (now Elisabeth Hasselbeck) who seemed like a perfectly delightful person at the time.  Survivor is certainly low-brow, and most likely represents the decline of our culture as whole, but in this case you have to give credit where credit is due. (Bill)

I’m too good for reality TV and I’m not afraid to say it. But The Joe Schmo Show isn’t reality TV. It’s a work of art. Surrounding one doe-eyed young man with actors in a fake competition show where the main attraction is more psychological experiment than TV show, Joe Schmo raised questions about just what a reality show is and operated on numerous layers (the show within a show, the actors serving as a separate set of characters, etc.). Joe Schmo is cruel, manipulative in the worst way and probably responsible for much of the pain and disappointment that the “schmo” Matt Kennedy Gould has suffered since, but it is also the most riveting, well constructed and self aware show that the pathetic reality genre will ever produce. (Jeremiah)

Despite being well-acted and visually stunning, the first season of Carnivale can still feel like a bit of a slog. The show’s mythos is dense at best and nonsensical at worst, and the uneven pacing of the first season may turn some inpatient viewers off. Luckily, things begin to pay off in the show’s second and final season, as chosen one Ben Hawkins (Nick Stahl) hurdled toward his inevitable confrontation with evil incarnate Brother Justin Crow (played with terrifying glee by the great Clancy Brown). The plot begins to unravel rapidly in the second season, driven in part by the introduction of escaped mental patient/hitman for the devil Varlon Stroud, and by a renewed energy in series protagonist Hawkins who, up until this point, had been a sympathetic but laconic lead. The payoffs are worth the wait – specifically the “something’s gonna happen here!” scene on the Lincoln Highway (one of my favorites of all time) and the breakneck season finale that wraps up many stories while setting the stage for a third season that, unfortunately would never come. It seems that while loyal viewers were eventually rewarded, HBO was not; the network cancelled the apocalyptic period piece as it continued hemorrhaging money. (Jeff)

The View's tenth season might just be the greatest daytime TV of all time.  Somewhat on a whim, Barbara Walters asked Rosie O'Donnell to join the panel, and somewhat on a whim, Rosie agreed.  Bringing on a former star of a much more successful daytime talk show with a monstrous ego made for spectacular television.  In the beginning, Rosie did her best to blend in, even hanging out with neo-con Elisabeth Hasselbeck off-camera.  Things started getting juicy when Rosie deemed Kelly Ripa's remark "I don't know where that hand's been, honey!" to Clay Aiken homophobic, prompting Ripa to call-in and attempt to rip Ro a new one.  Mix that in with the Donald Trump fight (which sparked a real-life fight between Rosie and Barbara) and Rosie's somewhat "out there" views on 9/11 and mainstream media (often dissing ABC itself), and you have yourself some entertainment.  Rosie's tenure ended with an all-out civil war that she is still blogging about. It was never meant to last, but god, was it good. (Bill)

Someone once told me “Either you’re laughing or you’re crying, man. There are a lot of things in this world that you can cry about. Sometimes you have to just laugh.” I applied this logic to Real World: Hollywood. On one hand, it’s pretty sad. There is an alcoholic who has a major meltdown and leaves the show to check into rehab. There is a stripper who wants to become a singer, but has a shaky voice because she won’t stop smoking. We hear Joey tearfully read his goodbye letter to drugs and alcohol and watch as Briana goes home for a court appearance (she beat up her boyfriend). These are real people and real moments, but all you can do is laugh. Of course you still get the genuinely funny stuff: a guy who calls people “peasants,” a girl who tells a roommate that he looks like Charles Barkley because, apparently, all black people look alike to her, and oh yeah there was that foursome. The formula was the same: hot people and booze. But somehow Real World: Hollywood stumbled upon great television amidst the crap we’ve been fed lately. (Jason)

Early in the decade, when Adult Swim quietly debuted in the late night slot on The Cartoon Network, stumbling across it was akin to discovering one of those fancy super-hip bars without the signs. Except this bar was filled with weird, subversive, confrontational cartoons (and also anime, if you’re into that). Adult Swim brought a slew of batshit insane post-modern creators into speakeasy-like circulation, and the world is a better place for it. No “season” of Adult Swim was ever as strong as it’s 2004-05 offering, a class that included Aqua Teen Hunger Force, Sealab 2021, Harvey Birdman Attorney-at-Law, The Boondocks, and the first season of Adult Swim’s first (and only) truly mainstream hit Robot Chicken. Was there ever a better reason to stay up until midnight on a Sunday? (Jeff)

I get jazzed by TV seasons that tell one complete, cohesive story. But this is the complete opposite of that. Each episode of Stella is an absurdist exercise in cramming a whole lot of nonsense into 22 minutes. In any given episode, roommates Michael Ian Black, Michael Showalter and David Wain might start a farm on the floor of their apartment, jointly write a novel and have it stolen by Janeane Garofalo (in a completely tolerable performance) or get married and have kids. Perhaps nothing embodies Stella’s simple, surrealist humor better than the fact that they never take off their suits. Ever. The humor in Stella often amounts to these three geniuses talking in ridiculous accents, bickering like children or generally acting like imbeciles, but when you’re not looking, they parody topics as diverse as workplace politics and entrepreneurship. (Jeremiah)

Matthew Weiner’s Mad Men, a slow burning, well-acted drama about 1950s era advertising executives is justifiably a critical darling. But, ignoring the nuanced performances and subtle writing, what really makes Mad Men great is the unflinching period realism. You want to see women drinking alcohol and smoking while pregnant? You got it.  You want to see what life was like before the draconian laws of no drinking and smoking in the workplace? Watch an episode.  You want to look back at a better time where women were completely subservient? Appointment television, baby. While all seasons are strong, Mad Men is at its best during season 3 where Cooper Sterling is being sold to an English company, with the Kennedy assassination lurking on the horizon. (Cheese)

Six Feet Under creator Alan Ball developed True Blood for HBO based on the popular Sookie Stackhouse novels by Charlaine Harris. Ball and company succeeded in making vampires cool again, but the show is so much more than that. Give me an adjective and True Blood has it in spades; funny, sexy, hot, campy, scary, mysterious. The ensemble cast does a tremendous job of bringing Alan Ball’s vision to life. This show is one of only two reasons left to keep that HBO subscription. (Cheese)

HBO's The Comeback is one of the most criminally overlooked series in the history of television. Canceled after one 13-episode season, it told the story of Valerie Cherish (Lisa Kudrow), a B-list sitcom star from the early 90s trying to reclaim her place on television. Of course, she is doing this on a reality show. The show is comprised of the "raw footage." Valerie is perpetually humiliated. She is cast as the star of a show about "sexy singles," but the network re-tools it in development, centering it around college kids, and she is re-cast as the frumpy "Aunt Sassy" who lives upstairs. The moments are raw, painful and hilarious (including the only airplane turbulence humor I've ever seen), and Kudrow's performance is fearless and awe-inspiring. Do yourself a favor and rent it today. (Bill)

Season Two is Battlestar Galactica at its best.  It opens with many of the characters relocated (Laura Roslin in the brig, Starbuck on Caprica, and Baltar facing death on Kobol, for example) and facing new challenges, and many of their best, darkest scenes are in this story arc.  These episodes are followed by the "Pegasus" saga, where another Battlestar commanded by the royal c-word Admiral Cain (played to perfection by Michelle Forbes of Star Trek: TNG and Homicide) shows up and starts really fucking everything up. These episodes really could be the best of the whole series. Baltar's scenes with the abused Number Six in Pegasus' brig are shockingly moving for a sci-fi show with a stupid title. The season is not without its lowlights (Roslin's cancer going away through a stupid sci-fi plot device and a series of clunky standalone episodes), but for the most part it's an example of how great TV can be. (Bill)

All four seasons of 30 Rock have been fairly consistent and I could probably make a strong case for any of them to be on the list. Season 1 is special because the show has strength in the characters, and this is our first glimpse into their world. We are introduced to Liz Lemon as she buys out a hot dog vendor in spite. Tracy Morgan’s first line is “I am a Jedi.” Alec Baldwin gets to play Alec Baldwin. Really, each actor seems to be playing an extension of themselves. You get the impression that Judah Friedlander owns every hat he wears on the show, Jack McBrayer couldn’t possibly be channeling all that weird stuff out of thin air, and Katrina Bowden is definitely that hot. Every cast member seems perfectly suited to their role. I even believe that Dean Winters sells beepers for a living. (Jason)

In the season 2 premier of David Milch’s Deadwood, Al Swearengen and Seth Bullock, the show’s two main characters (and diametrically opposed metaphors for the future of the west), nearly beat each other to death. Having gained the upper hand, Swearengen only relents when he notices Bullock’s newly arrived wife and son looking on. He greets them: Welcome to fucking Deadwood! It’s totally badass and the intensity level only rises from there. The second season of HBO’s Deadwood rides in on the momentum of the first and succeeds in amping up both the frontier political intrigue and the hyper literate cursing. Memorable moments from this sophomore season include the worst case of kidney stones ever, a brilliant performance by Garret Dillahunt as the sociopathic geologist Francis Wolcott, and the emergence of George Hearst whose rich douchebag villainy will later carry the show’s final season. Unrepentantly crass and yet at times indecipherably intellectual, Deadwood is built on the strength of its performances (notably Ian McShane, Timothy Olyphant, and Powers Boothe), well-developed characters, and the simmering threat of violence – all of which immaculately peak in the tumultuous second season. (Jeff)

Here is the other reason to keep your HBO. Seinfeld co-creator Larry David brought back the original cast of the classic sitcom just this past season for a sort of meta reunion.  But leave it to Larry David to make sure that these stars do not overshadow his own plentiful neurosis. Curb is relatively unscripted which means the reunited cast had plenty of room to play off each other and recapture some of that Seinfeld chemistry. This past season gave us especially awkward episodes revolving around the mentally disabled, the slaughter of swans with golf clubs, and of course, the aforementioned reunion. Remarkably, the Seinfeld reunion never overshadows the flat out awesomeness of Curb, but only serves to remind us how brilliant Larry David is. (Cheese)

Lost is without question the best show on network TV.  The groundbreaking show rewards devoted viewers and I’d never recommend just jumping in, but if one season needs to be singled out, then that would be season three. Lost’s third season starts with our main characters locked up in polar bear cages and ends with a shocking twist that would change the very structure of the show. Season three also features one of the greatest death scenes ever, and is basically the coming out party for series villain (or hero?) Ben Linus. Lost is constantly changing the game, keeping its viewers guessing. I don’t care where it’s going; I just want to be along for the ride. We have to go back, Kate! We have to go back! (Cheese)

Ashy Larry, dirty diapers, Lil’ Jon, NASCAR, Arsenio Hall at a wine and cheese party, Black Bush, Dave the juror, When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong (I don’t like people playing on my phone), I Know Black People, Wayne Brady – oh sorry. I was just thinking out loud about the second season of Chappelle’s Show. With this landmark show, Dave Chappelle changed sketch comedy forever simply by raising the bar. Every week his show offered biting social commentary, numerous laugh-out-loud moments and an astounding scarcity of duds, in a relatively traditional sketch format. Both seasons are nearly perfect, but while the single greatest episode of sketch comedy ever is in the first (the Dave Chappelle by Dave Chappelle/Mad Real World double shot) the second made Dave a phenomenon. With indelible characters, quotes that pervaded the zeitgeist and exciting musical performances, Chappelle’s Show was a legitimate, once in a lifetime event. (Jeremiah)

If not being able to take your eyes off the screen, feeling like you have an ulcer and staring at the ceiling for 5 minutes after every episode wondering just what in the hell is going to happen next doesn’t sound like a pleasurable TV viewing experience to you, then maybe you shouldn’t watch The Shield. For me, it was heaven, and I wish I could do it all over again. Shawn Ryan’s tragic dirty cop drama grabbed headlines for its graphic and vulgar nature, even though it’s an extremely intelligent show that very rarely put shock value above quality (nobody’s perfect). The show masterfully balanced standalone stories with ones that lasted for a full season or, in some cases, the entire series. In Season 5, the Strike Team runs up against Internal Affairs officer Jon Kavanaugh, played by Forest Whitaker (in perhaps the greatest single season acting performance in the history of TV). Kavanaugh is smart, manipulative and ruthless, just like his nemesis Vic Mackey (Michael Chiklis), and their conflict is undeniably arresting television. The Shield’s best season ratchets the intensity and anxiety up to nearly unbearable levels and lights the fuse on the storylines that will carry us through to the sublime series final. (Jeremiah)

At this point, Arrested Development is so widely recognized as a cult favorite that it’s now useless as a barometer of someone’s hipness. Fortunately, that doesn’t make it any less great. The cast is phenomenal. It was surprisingly touching before that was the norm in TV comedy. The writing was so sophisticated that jokes referencing previous episodes or seasons seemed as if they must have been planned from the beginning. And the show had a subversive streak as it overtly commented on and then abided by or contradicted TV conventions, worked in St. Elsewhere style intertextuality, and lashed out at the competition and the television industry as a whole. The show was never sharper than in its first season, which gave us some of the best episodes (Top Banana, Bringing Up Buster, Pier Pressure, Public Relations), Jeffrey Tambor’s best storyline, and Gobias Coffee. Not only was this one of the best seasons of the decade, Arrested Development was the best TV comedy of the decade. (Jeremiah)

In a decade defined by a new standard of quality television, nothing epitomized the prestige programming renaissance better than David Simon’s brilliant The Wire. At this point, any plaudits I could lump upon The Wire would be both redundant and insufficient. Simply put, it is without a doubt the greatest television show to ever grace the air waves. Immaculately crafted, constantly engaging – The Wire is Shakespeare for television. It should be approached as literature. All of The Wire’s five seasons would have made this list, but the show’s finest episodes come in its fourth season when David Simon turns the show’s focus on the Baltimore school system. While previous seasons revolved around the Baltimore drug trade, political system, and struggling blue collar dock workers, the school angle would be The Wire’s most emotionally affecting, and damning, examination of life in the inner city. In season four, we are plunged into the lives of a tightly knit group of high schoolers, all deeply impacted by the intricate and ultimately inescapable ghetto dynamics Simon has spent three seasons setting up. The four kids are wonderful, all rare examples of young actors with legitimate chops, and their interplay becomes the lynchpin of the season. You will become emotionally invested in their stories. All that’s not to say that other characters we’ve come to know in seasons past take a backseat to the students. Favorites like Bubbles, McNulty, and Carver have plenty of their own tragic shit going on. The ultimate fate of our high schoolers (which won’t be fully realized until Season 5) is among the most emotionally impacting television I’ve ever seen. And, in closing, I’d just like to mention Snoop. She really comes into her own during that fourth season. Ya heard? (Jeff)

Tagged as: 30 rock, arrested development, battlestar galactica, best tv of the decade, chappelle show, curb your enthusiasm, deadwood, lost, the comeback, the it crowd, the shield, the wire