Californication

So I Faux-voed the first two episodes of Showtime's new "comedy" Californication (wherein the only indication of the supposed genre must be in the fact that it's got the half-hour running time). Partially washed up yet still brilliant, Hank Moody suffers from writer's block and calls himself a one-hit wonder. His celebrated work of literary fiction is turned into some Hollywood dreck starring Tom and Katie (aren't we all tired of that joke?), and this seems to have stopped him in his tracks from putting pen to paper entirely. So, he has sex. Lots of it. With anything that walks and waxes.

And if it wasn't for David Duchovny, the show would be a complete disaster. Yet, he manages to pull it all together, wounding his way through scene after scene totally messing up his life, trying to get his partner back (Natasha McElhone), and being a semi-decent dad to his precocious twelve-year-old daughter. But so much of this show is just plain tired, and I get frustrated when I see full-on scenes cribbed from much better work (anyone who has seen episode two and watched Lovely and Amazing knows of what I speak), and tired cliches (man sleeping with underage girl and then realizing his mistake, yawn) trotted out with more swearing and better shot nudity to be "dangerous."

On the whole, I'm giving it two more episodes to find some kind of heart, because as great as Duchovny remains solid and utterly watchable with the tired material surrounding him (his dry wit and even toastier delivery are truly engaging), there still needs to be an emotional core to the series that's sort of missing right now. Who knows? Maybe I'm the one who is jaded and frustrated and taking it all out on an innocent television show. All I know is that it's no Flight of the Conchords. Now there's comedy. Ummm, Steve.