By Christian Viveros-Fauné
By Miriam Felton-Dansky
By Tom Sellar
By Tom Sellar
By Jessica Dawson
By Tom Sellar
By R. C. Baker
By Tom Sellar
Shalhoub is an American indie-movie sad sack of the same ilk as Steve Buscemi, John Turturro, and Stanley Tucci (all four Coen brothers regulars). Like the volatile, melancholy chef Shalhoub played in Tucci's Big Night, Monk has the aura of a brilliant but misunderstood man. Hyper-alert yet spaced-out, Monk moves at a different speed from the rest of humanity. He's both adorable and awkward to watch.
Earlier episodes filled in Monk's backstoryhe was once a talented detective in the San Francisco police department, until his wife was killed four years ago. Her murder remains unsolved, something that seems to gnaw at his guts. It also exacerbated his compulsion to tie up loose ends, causing what had been mere quirkiness to erupt into full-blown OCD, with symptoms so paralyzing he was suspended from the force. The police chiefa bumbler named Stottlemeyeris understandably wary of putting a gun back in Monk's fidgety hands, but reluctantly brings him in as a consultant on particularly baffling crimes. Even this makes Stottlemeyer nervous. When scared-of-heights Monk arrives at a crime scene atop a clock tower, the chief teases him: "I bet this is your worst nightmare, eh?" Monk answers earnestly, "No, it's my fourth worst. Or maybe it's my fifth." He debates with himself for a few seconds before admitting, "Sorry, I didn't bring the list with me."
Lost Highway: The History of American Country
Begins July 5 at 8 p.m. on Trio
Monk's nurse, Sharona (Bitty Schram), plays the consummate sidekicka tough-talking single mom with a hairsprayed tangle of bleach-blond curls and a penchant for thigh-high boots. She insulates Monk from disorder (always a wet-wipe at the ready to ward off germs) and keeps him from annoying other people too much. The Monk-Sharona partnership isn't entirely believable (who's paying this chick's round-the-clock salary?), but they still make a classic odd couple, volleying lightning-quick repartee worthy of Gilmore Girls. And though she steadfastly protects him, Sharona also knows just how to needle Monk. When he gets pompous during a chess match, she outsmarts him by licking a queen, knowing he won't place his fingers anywhere near the soiled game piece. "You can't do thatit's illegal," he protests. "What," she taunts, "there's an unwritten licking-the-queen rule?"
Monk bears little resemblance to other contemporary cop dramas. That's because it firmly avoids (a) graphic violence, (b) wobbly pseudo-realist camera action, and (c) the unhappy endings you get in cutting-edge series like The Wire. Monk is a nostalgic trip back to old-school sleuth shows, where the detective uses his wits rather than a weapon and always gets his man two minutes before the credits roll. (Even the use of our hero's name as the title is a quaint throwback.) Early in each episode, this Ritalin-era Hercule Poirot intuits who the perpetrator is by spotting some telltale discrepancy invisible to the normal, unimpaired eye, and then spends the rest of the show joining the dots and proving it to the skeptics that inevitably resist him every step of the way. You'd think they'd learn after a while, since he's always, always right.
The desire to distinguish Monk from modern police series sometimes sends it too far into the realm of retro-contrivance, though. One silly episode set up Willie Nelson as the prime suspect in the killing of his own road managera long excuse to have Monk play clarinet with Nelson's band. Another week, the entire plot took place on an airplane, a Seinfeld-like device that allowed the writers to exploit Monk's fear of flying to the point of exhaustion.
The show can't decide whether to downplay Monk's mental illness or emphasize it, but they could probably have a lot more creative fun with the subject. One of the most amusing plots last season had Monk temporarily committed to an asylum, wherein between productive therapy sessionshe stumbled on a crime. Assisted by two fellow inmates (a pathological liar and a guy obsessed with Santa Claus), Monk re-enacted the murder and unmasked his shrink as the killer.
Hovering somewhere between Sherlock Holmes, Rain Man, and Scooby Doo, Monk is best filed under: far-fetched but entertaining.
The cable network Triowhich goes by the staccato slogan "pop, culture, tv"has been putting together some cool pop, culture, programming lately. Last month was an "uncensored comedy" festival featuring a documentary on the late Bill Hicks. The week of July 4 their focus is on country music, with the television premiere of two docs (Wilco's I Am Trying to Break Your Heart and High Lonesome: The Story of Bluegrass), a couple of Willie Nelson tribute concerts, and a four-part mini- series assembled by the BBC, Lost Highway: The History of American Country.