The O.C.: The Complete Second Season: B-

It was inevitable - I suppose - that The O.C., Josh Schwartz's exuberantly sharp and deeply entertaining soap opera, eventually fall so far from grace...but darn it if it isn't one of the most dissapointing television spectacles I have witnessed in some time (that, and of course Veronica Mars' quick third-season gutting). The reason I find it so probable that The O.C. turn so vapid so quickly (and really, 20 episodes constitutes as a relatively quick quality turnaround) lies in the very nature of the characters, and the show as whole, itself. The belief-defying original conceit - that a wealthy compassionate Newport family, the Cohens, would "adopt" a renegade street rebel named Ryan (Ben McKenzie, filled with appropriate slow-burn) and subsequently try and adapt him to their surface-loving life in Newport Beach, California - managed to charm its way into the hearts of the audience based mostly on a torrent of sincerity and wit. That power buoyed the show along well enough for the entire first season, kudos as well to the entire, thankfully sane, Cohen Family and the actors who played them, but due to some disconcerting shifts in its second season, The O.C. looks more and more like a cheap knock-off...rather than an upgrade. I am aware of course that teen soaps are by nature a product of the Machine, namely the television execs who herald them like the Messiah, but am I alone in thinking that where once The O.C.'s machinery glimmered, it now rusts?

I present as the first piece of evidence in my case: the characters. Seth Cohen (Adam Brody), that lonely and whip-smart son who befriended Ryan, was once the geeky sex-symbol, the mascot, of The O.C. It is understandable why: he has an infectious energy that seeps into you like rot...but with the opposite effect; nearly his every moment on screen in the first season was thrilling in the most unexpected way. After all, here was a nerdy Jewish teenager who instantly became the focus of every room he was in, and consequently the focus of the entire audience as well. In his second season a scary fact has become apparent: Seth isn't really human anymore. What he has become now isn't really much of anything anymore - so much cobbled together energy glued helter skelter by the writing team's increasingly ridiculous character developments; he is a sickening self-parody of his former magnificent self. Adam Brody maintains a level of bright spunk but his core is gone...stolen away by the dues ex machina of network television.

I write about Seth's striking new change at such length because to me, his character has always been the hinge upon which so much else rests; without him, the other characters seem to deflate alittle. To those who don't believe me I present to you Ryan, once a multifaceted bad-boy with a shining - and believable - heart (I defy anyone not to be warmed by those scenes where he looks out for Seth), who was transmogrified into a straight-laced sop. Worse still, his smoldering energy was abandoned as well and what was left in his place looks more like it belongs in 90210 than in Chino; he's much too dour prep, and not enough layered teenager. Following right along with Ryan, the Cohen parents - Sandy (Peter Gallagher) and Kirsten (Emmy-worthy Kelly Rowan) - sink into a deplorable pool of depression and loathing. There would atleast be a guilty jolt gleaned from watching their fights but mostly their emotions, and their storylines, remain more inert than explosive. Thankfully though I can say Gallagher and Rowan handle their trashy tales with mature (and winning) talent.

Moving forward, I present my second piece of evidence: the storylines. Once gifted with an arch perceptiveness (e.g. everyone's a cheat! everyone's a crook!) that rarely slid into camp, the stories now drift amok aimlessly picking, seemingly at random, new beloved people to torture with evermore numerous inane problems. There are no fewer than three plots about illicit affairs, one involving an illegitamate daughter, one about pornography, two different stories of love triangles, and a very poorly thought-out trifle of an idea about lesbians. And I'm not even counting the numbers of small waves created by the sudden arrival of several second-bannanas: Lindsay (Shannon Lucio), Alex (Olivia Wilde), and Zach (Michael Cassidy) - all of whom have, by the end of the year, found some sorry excuse to go straggling back to Character Hell.

And now my final piece of evidence, the one I feel has the most weight - as it infuriates me the most - as well as the most relevance to the plight of the still slightly-witty The O.C.: Josh Schwartz's departure. In the beginning he handled the majority of the writing, and his producing touch was everywhere. Similarly the show overflowed with quality. By the fourth episode of the second season, "The New Era", his persistent presence had waned and as a result the show wittled down; where once it was a rule-breaker as a vastly talented teen dramedy, it more and more limped along as a mere vestige of its former self.
That isn't to say there isn't some hope for it yet: the actors are still as great as they ever were, and Josh Schwartz still remains aboard the O.C.-ship, even if only as an executive-producer/occasional writer. A rebound is possible (one hopes) but if anything I've heard about the third season stands to be true, then The O.C. still has miles left to fall.