I remember when the greatest praise you could heap on a programme, particularly an American import, was that it was “dark”. Twin Peaks was dark, American Gothic darker, and - until Dexter came slashing along - Six Feet Under darkest. Even Desperate Housewives, before it turned irremediably silly, was applauded for being a black comedy, narrated from beyond the grave. If, as a programme-maker, you wanted kudos, it would be best you thought David Lynch not Walt Disney.But, what is this? Pushing Daisies, an American fantasy that goes all out to be a sunny delight? Could light be the new dark? Michael Grade, high commander at ITV, thinks so. Noting the success of cheerful shows such as Kingdom and Britain’s Got Talent, he sees house prices falling and viewers demanding escapism. This, presumably, is why he has scheduled Pushing Daisies for ITV1 at prime time on Saturday nights, the first time an American drama has done such heavy hauling for ITV since, I imagine, Columbo.
The dramedy’s novelty is that although it deals head on with death, it refuses to take it seriously. Corpses spring back into life and die all over again without any suggestion of resentment, fear or, indeed, an afterlife. To thank for their brief resurrections, the Lazaruses have a quiet pie-maker called Ned. When he was a boy, Ned’s dog was run over. Ned touched him and Digby got up and walked. Nay, he ran. “This touch was a gift given to him but not by any one in particular,” explains the narrator who sounds like the man from the Mr Kipling commercials but is actually Jim “Carry On” Dale. “There was no box, no instructions no manufacturer’s warranty,” he adds. In some contrast the series comes with much premise. Ned can bring corpses back to life by touching them. If he touches them again they die again. If he doesn’t within one minute then someone else dies. Etc. Plenty of small print to inwardly digest.
Advertisements for the show ask if we believe in love after death and the love here is high concept itself. Ned, played with gentle intelligence by Lee Pace, is in love with his childhood pal Charlotte or Chuck, who grows up and gets murdered and whom he restores to vitality. The good news is that the sexual tension between the two is both acknowledged and irresolvable because of the no-touching rule. There will, I trust, be no series-shattering sex of the sort that did for Maddie and David in Moonlighting even though, like Maddie and David, their new job is to solve murders (with a little help from the victims).
Thanks to the US writers’ strike, Pushing Daisies runs for only eight weeks, but I’ll be happily amazed if it remains in the 9pm Saturday slot that long. Grade’s best bet is that it provides cult appeal to inbetweenagers who will watch it with their parents. It is wittily written, if over reliant on the cutesy voiceovers, and beautifully cast. As Chuck, Anna Friel shows an unexpected talent for smiling. Her more tangible rival for the pie- maker’s hand is a very short, very funny blonde waitress played by Kristin Chenoweth, Annabeth from The West Wing. Set in a timeless, sunny world of its own, half Fifties, half now, Pushing Daisies looks as if it has been made by Tim Burton in a good mood. It is Lemony Snicket for grown- ups, A Series of Fortunate Events. If it were only the sort of thing I liked, I think I would like it very much
I am distressed to learn that not many people are watching Mad Men, which reached its halfway point on BBC Four last night. You will recall that this is the series set among New York admen in 1960, although we are increasingly interested in their women: Don’s infantilised wife, Betty, his possibly talented secretary, Peggy, and her voluptuous colleague, Joan, whom we now know is sleeping with the firm’s alcoholic senior partner Roger.
You may also recall each episode begins with an ad man falling a long way down a Madison Avenue skyscraper. Yesterday’s episode demonstrated that it is an even longer way up, if the elevator is out of action. After the longest lunch of vermouth and oysters, Roger nearly expires on the stairs, then, when he reaches the top floor, he promptly vomits in front of the guys from the Nixon campaign. Perhaps he was just getting America’s gut reaction in first.
