"You think?" he replies.
"I do. I mean, look, we all tried some new things and that was fun: the yard guys, illegitimate daughter, less fighting, more live music."
"Well, maybe you remember last year as better because it was all new."
"So you think I’ve sentimentalized the past all out of proportion?"
"Yeah, come on, we can’t keep living in last year."
Seth and Ryan have it right. I won’t say the second season of The O.C. (premiering Monday at 8 on ETC) is better than the first season that made the soapy Fox drama not just a breakout TV smash but a cultural tidal wave that has transcended the small screen to music, fashion, and the general pop culture zeitgeist; it isn’t. However, I don’t think it’s fair – or accurate – to say it is worse.
Season one was amazing in its scandalicious, oh-no-they-didn’t! storylines: Marissa ODs in Tijuana! Oliver threatens her at gunpoint! Ryan could be the father of Theresa’s baby! Seth and Summer have really bad sex! Julie has an affair with teenage Luke, whose dad is gay! And then she gets married to Caleb! Every episode had a party (the fashion show, the cotillion, the wedding) and every party had a fight. Punch-happy Ryan (Ben McKenzie), in his white wifebeaters, would brood; Marissa (Mischa Barton), in everything designer, would whine and be spoiled; Summer (Rachel Bilson) would be a bimbo ("Chino? Eww!"); and Seth (Adam Brody) would get beat up.
A year later, so many things have changed: less wifebeaters, less black eyes, less droopy brooding; more humor, more character development (and characters), much more fun. In season two, he’s-only-28! O.C. creator and executive producer Josh Schwartz finally has the Newport Beach crowd lighten up. For one thing, the show introduces The Bait Shop, an all-ages club and bar that has juice and Yoo-hoo on tap, continuing the beloved TV tradition from such varied series as Cheers, Ally McBeal, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The venue has already hosted such Cohen-approved acts as The Walkmen, The Killers and (God almighty!) Death Cab for Cutie. In one especially romantic episode, Peter Gallagher as Sandy goes back to his Broadway days, serenading wife Kirsten (Kelly Rowan) with a surprisingly smooth croon.
We are also introduced to the new kids ready to rock Balboa Island. For every goody-goody-with-a-dark side Zach ("I’m a water polo player. We’re never nice guys."), the WASP-y version of Seth who also fancies Summer, there’s a just-plain-goody-goody Lindsay – or Lindsbree (looks like Lindsay Lohan, acts like Bree from Desperate Housewives without the hilarious irony) to fans; she’s boring, irritating and yawn-inducing, simply part of Ryan’s bad-boy detox, yet still an integral part of one of the season’s soapier story arcs. There is Reed, the androgynously named female publisher who works on Seth’s Atomic County graphic novel; Carter, who helps Kirsten design the local magazine Newport Living; Trey, the just-out-of-jail Atwood brother; and Rebecca, Sandy’s former flame and part of the worst, most tedious story arc of the season. Still, the juiciest, most intriguing newcomer is Alex, the second-half of Marissa’s much-publicized lesbian kiss.
But aside from girl-on-girl romances, our Little Miss Cooper has a rather stunning poolside breakdown and a tryst with the gardener; oh, how very Desperate Housewives indeed (don’t forget: every Thursday at 9:10 p.m. on Studio 23!).
On The O.C., pop-culture references are flung without even room or time to duck. But its best zingers are its signature self-deprecation; the show is so refreshingly aware and perceptive of itself and its audience, making for some of the best writing on television this side of Gilmore Girls. Evoking the pilot, Luke greets us to his new hometown with a "Welcome to Portland, bitch," and Ryan and Marissa play on their "Who are you?"-"Whoever you want me to be." first conversation. The O.C.’s second season may not be the better than its star-making first, but it’s just as delicious, addictive and soapy, this time around done with a bit more fun. Illegitimate children, affairs, car crashes, bisexual love triangles, porn videos, George Lucas, and the crystal egg from Risky Business have never come together so delectably well.
Reading Entertainment Weekly’s music-sales chart, Seth says in ironic shock: "I don’t believe it, Ryan: Bright Eyes has two albums in the top 10. I just feel like the rest has finally caught up with me. It’s a little bit scary. Tell me I’m still special." He is referring to Rooney-fied population of Death Cab-loving fans that wear layered Penguin polos, the geek-chic movement that made him into one of the great American icons of my generation, and the same fans that will fall in love all over again with The O.C.
Watch House of Wax. It’s gonna be cheesy. It’s gonna be derivative. It’s gonna be dumb. And the scares are gonna be cheap. But there is one very significant factor to see the remake of the 1953 horror semi-classic: Paris. The Nicole-knows-what-she-did Hilton heiress adds "lead actress" to her ever-growing resume, and gets sliced and diced in the process. To Nicole Richie and all the haters out there, I’m sure seeing Tinkerbell orphaned will be fun to watch.
TV
Watch the second season premiere of The O.C., this Monday at 8 p.m. on ETC.