Felicity
Regular airtime: Wednesdays, 9pm EST (WB)
Executive Producers: Brian Grazer, Ron Howard, Tony Krantz, J.J. Abrams, Matt Reeves, John Eisendrath
Cast: Keri Russell, Scott Speedman, Scott Foley, Amy Jo Johnson, Tangi Miller, Greg Grunberg, Amanda Foreman
by Jessica Harbour
PopMatters TV and Video Critic
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Only-in-TVland
Felicity premiered while I was in college, and my
collegiate friends and I gathered to watch it on
Tuesday nights (it now airs on Wednesdays). We were,
in theory, the target audience for a show whose
premise concerns a high school graduate Felicity
Porter (Keri Russell) who chucks a scholarship at
Stanford to follow her longtime crush, Ben Covington
(Scott Speedman), to the fictional "University of New
York." (It's supposedly based on New York University,
but as more than one of my cynical collegiate friends
pointed out, at the real NYU it would be
near-impossible to assemble so many heterosexual men
in one place.) Felicity quickly surrounded herself
with a crowd of friends, including Julie the guitar
player (Amy Jo Johnson), Elena the driven student
(Tangi Miller), and Noel (Scott Foley), resident
advisor and on-and-off boyfriend. Watching the show in
a cramped dorm room at our Northeastern university, we
wanted to know: what kind
of show, exactly, was Felicity trying to be? Was it
supposed to reflect our lives? Was it supposed to be a
realistic coming-of-age drama like Dawson's Creek,
or a more exaggerated soap opera, like Beverly Hills
90210?
Early rumors labeled the show Ally McBeal Goes to
College, and it's taken two full seasons to grow into
the designation: while on Ally McBeal, the comedy
has become more and more exaggerated, with
increasingly unfunny results, the Felicity writers
have chosen an air of light comedy. Thus, in the
first episode of the third season, Ben and Felicity's
decision to live together and Noel's to leave college
and marry crucial turns of events that would have
been treated with utmost gravity in the first season
are treated comically. Which is not to say that the
show has given up on dramatic plotlines altogether,
but the tone has definitely shifted away from the
"evocative coming-of-age drama" that the show's
official website (http://www.thewb.com/felicity/)
describes; these college students may be coming of
age, but now it's in zany, only-in-TVland ways, in
which one couple can run off to Tuscany after sleeping
together twice and another can move from fabulous dorm
rooms to a studio apartment before the semester even
starts.
The original premise of Felicity made it out as a drama with comic touches, a sort of 1990s The Wonder Years set at college. Thus the show presented a number of Serious Topics in its first season, and loaded them with dramatic weight: Julie was
date-raped; Felicity lost her virginity; Ben suffered from a gambling addiction. (The first plotline suffered from a particularly unfelicitous bit of casting, as the date-rapist was played by Devon Gummersall, best known as terminally nice guy Brian Krakow on My So-Called Life.) The shift from drama to comedy was heralded by a second season episode in which Felicity and her friends campaigned for the morning-after pill to be available at the UNY health center, going so far as to stage a sit-in. While Felicity had to defend her political stance to her doctor father, and Julie talked movingly of her rape, the episode presented the sit-in as essentially comic a sleep-over party with an "important message" attached.
Now, "serious" issues are routinely presented as secondary to the comic or romantic plotlines. So, where in the first season, Elena's commitment to academic study in the first season led her into an affair with one of her professors, now it's part and parcel of her safe attraction to Tracy (Donald Faison), an equally competitive student. Felicity's introspective taped monologues to Sally, her teacher and mentor back in California (played by an uncredited Janeane Garafalo), have been cut. In the second season premiere, Felicity's summer-long separation from Noel was played for pathos; in the third season premiere, her summer-long separation from Ben was barely a cause for concern.
As the tone changes, the characters are presented in less nuanced, less realistic shades. Last season, Noel briefly believed he had impregnated his girlfriend, a story that might have been extremely compelling. Noel's ambivalence about keeping the baby, and his potential role as a father, did not necessarily make him noble or likable, but it certainly made him interesting, however briefly. But the girl turned out to have cheated on Noel with her ex-boyfriend; free of the responsibilities of pregnancy, Noel has transformed himself into a ridiculous figure, renamed "Leon." Meanwhile, Meghan (Amanda Foreman), Javier (Ian Gomez), and Shawn (Greg Grunberg) who all originally had smaller, comic-relief parts have become main characters, with Foreman and Grunberg now listed in the opening credits. While all three are enjoyable, their responses are more predictable than Felicity's, Ben's, or Elena's, because they are more strictly defined: Meghan is the bitchy Goth roommate; Javier the lovable, older, gay, Hispanic man; Shawn the sometimes annoying filmmaker and entrepreneur.
It may be that Felicity simply can't talk about the
universal problems that beset a college student,
because those problems don't exist. Unlike middle and
high school emotional traumas, college problems are
not ingrained into the collective American psyche; no
matter what happens, some portion of the audience will
envy Felicity her privilege the fact that she can
choose between Stanford and UNY, and that she rarely
worries about money. (In the first season, this
potential discontent was represented by Elena, on
scholarship and fiercely ashamed of it; the rumor
among Felicity's fanbase is that "angry Elena" will
be more in evidence this season.) But
it's also true that the show has not always
effectively presented serious topics. Neither the
date-rape nor the gambling addiction stories were
particularly believable. The
Elena-sleeps-with-her-professor plotline, dropped at
the beginning of the second season, served mostly to
trivialize Elena's dedication to her studies. Even
though Elena told Noel the professor raised her grade
after their affair, the show didn't bother to plumb
the possible ethical implications of such a
relationship or even how having her grade changed
might have affected proud Elena's self-esteem.
In that sense, the change from serious drama to light
comedy may be a wise move, given that Felicity
currently follows Dawson's Creek, Hour of Teenage
Angst, on the WB's schedule. But in changing the
show's tone, the creators have moved away from the
concept that there are certain coming-of-age issues
that can only be explored in a collegiate setting.
Except for occasional references to seminar and
fraternity parties, Felicity and her friends could be
living in the same fictional world as Jack & Jill,
another light WB comedy, whose characters are all in
their mid-20s.
The most significant plotline lost in the attitude
shift was the one concerning Felicity's own academic
aspirations. She originally planned be a pre-med
student at Stanford and follow in her father's
footsteps, but realized, once she arrived at UNY, that
she really wanted to study art. The medicine vs. art
storyline, while risky it was sometimes hard to
feel sympathy for Felicity was
something that could actually concern a college
student (I had several friends at my pre-med-intensive
college struggling with the same decision). Felicity's
now in her junior year; at most schools, she'd be
taking mostly classes in her major. Yet the new season
shows her hardly going to class at all. The internal
debate whether to follow the "sensible" path her
parents expected of her, or strike out on her own
creatively seems to have been solved, or at least
not considered comic enough to fit in with the new
tone.
In theory, there's no reason why a university wouldn't
make a good setting for a television series, comic or
serious. The endless backbiting, the ritual tensions
around tenure decisions, the endless juicy plotlines
that could result from a frustrated professor, a
nubile student, and a sexual harassment lawsuit
just read Jane Smiley's comic novel Moo or any issue
of Lingua Franca for the possibilities. But
Felicity's main characters don't include a single
professor or administrator. In focusing solely on
Felicity and her friends Felicity fits into the WB
group-of-young-beautiful-people mold. It's a cute
show, with some endearing and some irritating
characters, and it's fun to watch. But it has a much
richer field to till, and could become more compelling
and unusual than the writers seem to realize.