It pains me to do this. (To the male fans who read my blog: spare yourself the gory process of reading any further. It’s about to get all sorts of lame and girly.)
Dearest Diablo Cody, I love you. I do. You created United States of Tara, and the series is genius. We were both born in Illinois, we went to Catholic school, and we’re both gemini. But in your February article in Entertainment Weekly, you said, and I quote, “Fact: the new 90210 is cooler than the old 90210.” I’m willing to give you the get-out-jail-free card, because I’m hoping the only reason you feel this way is because you guest starred in an upcoming episode. And, you spend the greater part of the rest of the article detailing just that. Kind of. But, knights of Columbus, that sentiment could not be further from fact.
In 90210 v. 2.0, “Degrassi Chick” is relentless. Her face is always screaming questions at me like she’s the newest and youngest poster girl for Botox. And she’s a far cry from Brenda Walsh. Lori Loughlin is not her mom, she’s Aunt Becky. End of story. The teacher, Ryan Eggold is 24, and I have a severe problem with that. The character of Jackie Taylor (Kelly’s mom) has been poorly scripted. They’ve turned her into an even bigger monster than she was when she was still wearing neon dress suits with matching earrings. And the entire West Beverly High landscape is a sham. Where’s the courtyard? The front steps? In the same place they left the original Peach Pit, that’s where.
Okay. Details aside, where is the plot? The most tolerable episode of the season was when “Silver” had a root canal. I can’t even say that her recent Emily Valentine behavior was worthy. She may have burned all of her video footage in a flower pot, but did she try to burn down a school float? (No.) In the episode where the girls have a “sleep-over” but then turn it into a “rager”, they should have just stuck to girly bonding, had a seance, and summoned the ghost of Scott Scanlan. Maybe I just miss The Blaze, the radio station, Cindy Walsh’s home cooking, all of those surf trips down to Baja with Dylan…
Okay, I know. Denial is a river. I just hope the kids who watch this show these days are under 18 and consciously unaware of what the term “Donna Martin graduates!” means. Better not to know. Listen, if I can be logical about this for a second: aren’t there enough rich kid teen shows on television right now? The economy is in shambles. How is any teenager supposed to relate to these characters? That sugar powdered window of time when we could all laugh and say, “Oh, but it’s entertainment; it’s an hour to forget our worries” has passed. There’s no such thing as a free lunch, and there’s no such thing as a modern teen drama with gritty, believable material. Let’s take off our rose-colored glasses. Atleast the Walsh family recycled.
Fact: nothing can replace the old 90210. I’d take those floral leggings and James Dean sideburns any day over this. This is killing the novelty.