This made sense to me. As funny as the first 2 seasons were, they were incredibly wacky. Not a bad wacky, but a kind of wacky that could easily go all crickets if the novelty was to wear or the writing got less clever. So, in a way, even though it might have meant no more episodes of Flight, no more Murray, no more Pretty Prince of Parties, bongo solos or racist fruit vendors, I had to feel this was the right decision. To go out on top. To only go on talking if you still have something worthwhile to say.

But, now it’s been confirmed that Flight is dead and it feels more bitter than it does sweet (well, not sweet, but you know what I mean). This statement was posted on their site yesterday:

Bret, Jemaine and James (co-creator/director) said “we’ve noticed the less we say about the future of the show, the more people want to talk about it, so in an effort to reverse this trend we are today announcing that we won’t be returning for a 3rd season. We’re very proud of the two seasons we made and we like the way the show ended. We’d like to thank everyone who helped make the show and also everyone who watched it. While the characters Bret and Jemaine will no longer be around, the real Bret and Jemaine will continue to exist.

So that’s that, I guess. Flight’s finished. And I don’t mind telling you I’m half-sad about it. Still, season 2 did have its iffy spots and I’m pretty sure this is for the best.

This is for the best…right?

No matter what, let us never forget the deep-seated social change the hipopopotamus and rhymnocerous brought upon in their short tenure. They truly did break it down to build it back up again…

After Season 2 of In Treatment, there was talk that Gabriel Byrne was finished and wouldn’t be signing on for another year. No disrespect to the guy, but this was one of those moves I just couldn’t understand. Was he leaving to finally become the cinema star that he almost was for years and years and years before HBO snagged him up? Maybe. But come on–the chances of landing a role with the amount of screen time as Paul’s, of finding material as rich or a part so meaty are infinitesimal. Let’s just be honest here. Not only would he be secure (at least for another year or two) in In Treatment, but he’d continue to be a part of something truly special, something milestone-y. Am I crazy? But, who knows, maybe he knew more than we did and was worried about the show’s direction. Or maybe I’m just not a risk-taker.

Either way, none of that matters now with word that HBO has renewed the show for a third season with Byrne signed on to star, Paris Barclay to continue lead-directing, and Dan Futterman (Capote) and his wife Anya Epstein to write. You can’t see me but behind my folding table and laptop and stereo pumping out some jazz piano, I’m dancing right now. (completely unrelated sidenote: remember HamsterDance?!?)

(related sidenote: This news is everywhere today but I saw it first on What’s Alan Watching? If you’re interested in TV analysis and discussion, this is definitely the place to be. The guy’s write-ups on Mad Men alone every week are enough to make you fall in love with the medium.)

Shows like In Treatment are why I love TV and movies. No exaggeration. They’re the things that bring me back and keep me on my toes, surprised and humbled and always thinking. And they’re the things that make HBO so completely beyond compare on the small screen. Although–and here’s my obligatory pessimistic aside–I will admit, I always get wary hearing that a show I love is coming back after it has a knockout season. Season 2 was absolutely incredible, and I mean incredible, but the way it ended and what it had to say about therapy and its characters – I mean, honestly, how many times can Paul say “screw therapy” then go back to Gina, then renounce her, then go back again before we start wondering if the back and forth is little more than dramatic filler?

Still, I can’t imagine the show–and intensely don’t want to–without Dianne Wiest in it. She’s integral, not just an amazing character and actress but goes toe-to-toe with Paul in a way that’s almost always–always–fascinating to watch. So I’m not going to worry until there’s something to worry about. I love this show too much to tarnish its rep.

At this point I know I’m probably all boring and broken record, but really, if HBO were a woman…whew.. This network gives me butterflies.

Season 3 is scheduled to start shooting next year for episodes to air late ‘10. (can I say ‘10? does it have to be 2010? what’s decorum here?)

The first season of In Treatment is available now and Season 2 is tentatively set to release in December. You can pre-order that masterwork here.

The first picture has been released showing the animation style of Ricky Gervais’ upcoming HBO comedy based on his radio show. Take a look below. (I love how Karl looks like an older, more aloof version of Charlie Brown. That round-headed chimp.)

Here’s what we know:

• The Ricky Gervais Show is the most downloaded podcast of all-time.
• This won’t be the first time Gervais and his partner Steven Merchant have worked with HBO (check out Extras if for some ungodly reason you haven’t already)
• The show will be “based” on the podcasts (as in using original TRGS recordings)
• And Karl Pilkerton will be the star (how you could have a “star” of an unscripted cartoon radio-based show, I have no idea)

Here’s what we don’t know:

• Really, everything else.

I honestly don’t know how this show is going to work, how it’ll make sense and seem worthwhile, but I trust Gervais. And I trust his excitement for the project. Here’s something he wrote about it on his slice-of-celebrity-life blog:

“It’s weird. I’m really excited about The Invention of Lying and Cemetery Junction and the tour and the Flanimals movie and everything else I’m doing, but when I watch a new animatic or talk about the press campaign for the HBO thing I actually get an adrenalin rush. I want it to be a success like I’ve never wanted anything else to be successful. It’s partly because I love working with HBO. It’s partly because it started out as a laugh – a labour of love. It’s partly because the animators have done an amazing job. And it’s partly because there’s nothing quite like it.”

And here’s something else he posted. If you’ve never seen or heard Karl, the famous idiot-savant-ish character he is, this will give you an idea of what he’s all about.

I’m so ridiculously on board for this. Expect it after Christmas.

What got me thinking was something my friend Spencer said to me back when we first saw the promos months ago. “I’ve read so many of these detective novels,” Schwartzman’s character said in the commercial, “that I know what to do.” With such vindication and certainty. And Spencer joked that that would be me one day.

The idea cracked us up because it hit so close to home. Not the detective stuff, but the idea behind it all, the desperation that’s always there when you’re jobless or girlfriendless or purposeless–where you feel it every second, you can feel it in the back of your mouth, that urgent desire for your life to mean something.

And it’s true; boredom changes you. Like the theme song for the show says, “Bored to death, but mad and lonely.” When your girlfriend’s still there, before she’s left you because all the white wine, you never do a lot of stepping back and reevaluating. I mean, you do, but you don’t dwell on it the same way. You don’t care. But after she’s left, things aren’t in place anymore. It’s just you. And you realize you need something.

Maybe the reason I related as much as I did tonight, the reason I’m saying all this, is the amazing amounts of nothing I did all day. I mean, I’m talking vast, sweeping, incredible amounts of nothing. Humbling amounts of nothing. I’m talking watch Firefly, listen to This American Life, go on Facebook, go on Twitter, organize my Netflix, eat lunch, eat dinner, open the fridge 20 times nothing.

I’m talking read a chapter in a book nothing. Check my beyond-repair, in-last-place fantasy team nothing.

I’m talking backup my external and flash drives nothing–get them up to date. You know, just in case.

So it’s interesting to watch a show like this when you’re so ridiculously close to the material, looking everywhere, behind the ketchup, in the pantry, in pixels, for something to occupy your time and make you alive again. And in that way, this is kind of an amazing state to be in, one of complete and utter non-responsibility. Anti-distraction. Almost like being a bystander in your own life, and what that means, what it translates into.

Ok, here’s the thing. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about moving to New York. Here’s my situation:

• I graduated last May w/ a BA in English
• I intern at a publishing co. 3 half-days a week
• I play softball 2 nights a week on a team of mostly 30-somethings
• I’m doing odd-jobs like car washes and paper shredding to hold me over until I can find real work
• and I’m 22, jobless, girlfriendless, and I live with my parents in a city initially meant for retirees

And that’s what I’m talking about. There comes a time when you start resenting whatever it is you do that you were doing right before things got stale. You start to resent school and writing and computers and anything cerebral. You start to crave the opposite: sweat, construction work, swimming. It’s the same idea as people moving after breakups or deaths. It’s dying your hair or changing your style before the first day of high school. A forced and temporary evolution. And it lasts exactly until you’re too busy or distracted to care anymore.

So, it wasn’t just the fact that Kristen Wiig and “Brother Mouzone” from The Wire guest starred in this week’s episode that I dug it. It’s not even that in the past few months I’ve watched or am watching so many TV series that it’s hard to remember them all (Breaking Bad, Mad Men, Bullshit!, Dexter, First Person, Unscripted, Firefly, Hung, True Blood, Entourage, This American Life, Chuck – am I forgetting any?). It’s more that when I think of New York, even though I know it’s childish, I like to think about the romanticized version that you’ve seen in a million movies. The version where stories happen.

It’s the idea that moving there, of living somewhere else, of doing something I’ve never done before, scares the hell out of me. And that’s exactly what makes it fascinating.

After watching these 2 episodes of Bored to Death I honestly can’t say whether I think the show will be great or not, but I think its intentions are spot-on. Like I said, boredom changes you. You could be a quiet neurotic novelist like Johnathan who “doesn’t do well with anger, just goes straight into depression,” but before you know it you’re in a trench coat with slicked back hair, passing up white wine for straight whiskey, then choking and coughing it down in a bar before heading out for a “tail job.”

Point is, we’ve all read so many of these novels, and none of us, ever, knows what to do. And we never really change. All we can do is put ourselves out there and hope that someone answers our ad. Then try not to slip climbing down from the bar stool.

Catch Bored to Death this Sunday @ 9:30 on HBO, after the Seinfeld reunion on Curb Your Enthusiasm

And now, 1o seconds with Senator Clay Davis of The Wire:

Wait, Kate Winslet?!

Oh yeah! Variety reports that Winslet has signed on for a mini-series adaptation of James M. Cain’s novel Mildred Pierce, directed by another established film artist, Tod Haynes (I’m Not There, Far from Heaven).

The show will be set in 1930’s LA and Winslet will play the part of a middle-class, single mother attempting to maintain her and her family’s social position during the Great Depression. No network has picked up the ’series yet but rumor has that HBO might (what a surprise). Even if they don’t, though, how can this possibly be bad?

Cain’s story was already adapted into a film starring Joan Crawford (for which she won an Oscar, her only) in 1945. And even though I can’t say I’ve either read the book or seen Crawford’s movie, the female lead must be something to have won her the award. If there’s anyone who can stand in the shoes of an Oscar winner, though, maybe even top her, it’s Kate Winslet. I absolutely can’t wait for this.

The seventh season of David’s improvised HBO comedy, which returns on Sept. 20, will be centered around the TV version of David finally agreeing to do a reunion of the defining ’90s sitcom. All four “Seinfeld” castmembers — Jerry Seinfeld, Jason Alexander, Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Michael Richards — will play themselves in multiple episodes, and the season finale will feature extensive snippets of the show-within-the-show.

“For years, I’ve been asked about a ‘Seinfeld’ reunion,” David told reporters at the Television Critics Association summer press tour in Pasadena. He always refused, but, “Then I thought it might be very funny to do that on ‘Curb.’ And I kept thinking about it.”

Seinfeld will appear in five episodes, sprinkled throughout the season, and the others will appear in as many as four or five episodes, albeit not always together.

“We’ll see writing, see aspects of the read-through, parts of rehearsal, see the show being filmed, and see it on TV,” David explained. “You won’t see the entire show. You’ll see parts of the show. You’ll get an idea of what happened (to the ‘Seinfeld’ characters) 11 years later. Within the show, it will be incorporated into regular ‘Curb’ episodes. “

How was it writing for these characters so many years later, and in the context of a different show?

“It was surprisingly smooth. Coming up with the right ideas for what’s happened in 11 years, that took some thought. Three of the guys working on my show as executive producers also were producers on ‘Seinfeld,’ so I was working with them.”

READ THE FULL ARTICLE HERE

Curb Your Enthusiasm: basically the cat’s pajamas, right? More or less the bee’s knees. But finding news on the teased-at Seinfeld cast-included seventh season has been ridiculous. One day we heard that not only was Larry David’s kinda, sorta-autobiographical sitcom not over forever like he said it would be, but its reunion tour would include Jerry, George, Elaine and Kramer for a multiple-episode arc (“What’s the Deal with Reunions?”). Pretty great. But getting a date to mark on the calendar for it, a month or year or general ballpark–forget about it. Nothing.

Before the Sunday lineup this week, though, before True Blood and Hung and Entourage, we finally got some confirmation. There were teaser’s earlier, things with just Larry’s forehead and the tip of his glasses poking out from the bottom of the screen and a “He’s baaack” text bubble. But this one was an actual clip, Larry explaining that, despite the robberies in the area, he won’t be joining his neighborhood’s watch simply because, well, he prefers thieves to neighbors. Thieves aren’t imposing, he says. They don’t steal your time.

Oh yeah, I’ve missed this. Curb will be back, Seinfeld cast and all, in September.

Not only that. There’s another comedy coming out on HBO in September and it’s called Bored to Death. It’s starring Jason Schwartzman (Rushmore, Marie Antoinette), Zach Galifinakis (The Hangover), Kristen Wigg (Knocked Up, SNL) and Ted Danson. Check out the promo at the foot.

“I have been reading so many of these detective novels,” Schwartzman’s character says, “that I know what to do!” That line says it all. That and the awesome cast this show’s got behind it.

Maybe it’s because I’m a little too empathetic to the story right now, that I “get” the plight just a little too much, but this one’s speaking to me. It’s about a writer (Schwartzman), a struggling writer with a lot of free time on his hands. And he loves detective stories, so much, in fact, that he decides to take up unlicensed detective work as a hobby–maybe to act out the part of a hero in one of his novels, or maybe just to get out of the house, away from his desk and into the real world, where real things happen and he might feel useful and actually affect people. I mean…um, I don’t know. I’m just guessing.

Bored to Death will be right along Curb in September. It should be a good Autumn.

The idea was to make a show about therapy. But instead of just focusing on a couple in for counseling, or just on a pilot after a bombing mission to Baghdad, the plan was to cover a bulk of the whole patient list—as well as be about the therapist, himself, (maybe more so than his clients). The result is In Treatment, an ambitious examination of people, the ones with problems as well as those who are supposed to have solutions, and how, really, neither one is better off than the other—maybe just more articulate.

To take on such a girth of material, the show was originally structured to air five times a week, Monday – Friday, with Dr. Paul Weston (Gabriel Byrne) seeing a different patient in each episode—except Friday’s, when he’d meet with his own shrink and college mentor, Gina (Dianne Wiest). Season 1 cleaned up in award season, and both Byrne and Wiest went home with honors. Now, back for its second year, the schedule might have changed, cramped to fit all five episodes into just two days–but the style and format are the same. Every episode is a session, just Paul alone in a room with one of his patients, talking.

I think I can understand why I hear so little buzz about this show, why it seems that no one’s interested. You combine the gimmicky five episode-a-week schedule with the minimalist style and talkiness, and it doesn’t exactly make for exciting water cooler conversation. But it’s exactly that simplicity, that unrelenting focus that makes the show fascinating. Set like a stage-play, the show’s entirely reliant on its scripts and performances. It’s a stripped down exercise in exploration, both artistic and human—a 30-minute shared monologue that demands your attention for the very reason that it is so sparse and unusual. Plus, it’s just flat-out ballsy designing a show this way, putting out 2 ½ hours of material every week completely devoid of the bells and whistles on which other dramas are built. It still tells a story, but unlike any show you’ve seen before.

With almost no blocking, no action and very little music, In Treatment brings you inside the angst-ridden walls of a therapy session. And once it sits you down and makes you comfortable, it reveals to you your part in the drama. You realize that you’re not just a fly on the wall like you initially thought, but actually a willing participant in the therapy. The revelations here don’t come through Paul’s insights but through the ways characters deliver their lines and the ways in which others react to them. You study the words as they leave a character’s lips, and it’s like you’re having a conversation with yourself. “Ok, how do I feel about that?” you ask your reflection off the TV’s glass. “Would I have reacted that way? Why? What does that say about me?”

The problem with a show like this, this 5-a-week structure, is that it’s impossible to avoid comparing each character’s story to the one before: April’s on Tuesdays to Walter’s on Thursdays, and so on. Like Oliver (Wednesday), a kid struggling through his parents’ divorce. His are probably the weakest episodes of the week. Alone, as far as TV dramas go, they’re interesting enough and have their moments. But next to the rest of the characters in Season 2—Mia, a lonely middle-aged lawyer; April, a 23-year-old architecture student with cancer; and Walter, an always-in-control CEO who can’t sleep—they feel light and ordinary.

My biggest complaint, though, has to do with the episode length, the sitcom-standard 30min. The creators here certainly don’t skimp on material for the week—2 ½ hours is nothing to sneeze at—but episode-wise, the sessions always end right when I want them most to continue. And I guess that’s a good thing, as far cliffhangers and watchability go, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being had, that it’s all a ploy, a device to make the five episode-a-week structure not get thin or tired, to always end in the air so I’ll come back to “see what happens.” And due to the short runtimes, sometimes liberties are taken to move the narrative forward. A patient’s hang-ups will suddenly come out, in stories they tell but don’t put together the pieces of consciously, or in passive aggressive actions that are not so passive aggressive. And every once in a little while the characters look like caricatures—which really has all to do with the length of the episodes, because the writing in general really is just stellar. It has to be, in order to make a show like this even remotely work.

Because we do only get to spend 30min with these characters. though—instead of the standard hour for most dramas—sometimes it feels that the writers are more or less forced tell us straight-up things that would otherwise surface more gradually. And it’s jarring because most of these patients claim that they don’t need therapy, and act opposed to it. So when their issues pop out at you as if the characters are introducing themselves to the camera— “My name is Alex and I’m overly confident to mask underlying insecurities,” or “I’m Bess and I over-mother my son to feel close to my estranged husband”—you question their tact. There’s a level of human pride that gets lost in these moments—especially considering that the show deals with educated people clearly familiar with the basics of pop-psychology. But, there is an argument to be made, too, that no matter what these characters say, they do want treatment—or else they wouldn’t have shown up; so they actually want Paul to see their issues. It’s a whole conscious/subconscious thing. And on the one hand it’s smart, but the other hand, the lazy hand, it’s iffy.

Worse than that, though, is how in some of Paul’s sessions with Gina he’ll respond to his own emotions in a way less detached than he ought to be, his reactions not seeming to come from a mind as used to constantly analyzing words and feelings as his is. Sometimes he’ll react in sheer contempt or even avoidance, utter black and white instead of grey, and it just doesn’t ring completely true. At times it works, when he gets to that “fed up” stage and rants as a rebellion against the omnipresent air of “deeper meanings,” introspection and over-control in his professional life. But when he seems to be truly unaware of what he’s doing, that’s when it feels cheap and the chords their striking tinny. Thankfully, though, those moments are rare, and his sessions with Gina are chock-full of that special kind of grey, that sober sense of self-evaluation and back-and-forth that any self-explorer knows all too well.

Despite any nitpicky complaints I may have, this is the one show on TV right now that everyone really should be watching. Its persistent refusal to ever offer any kind of answers, any sort of relief or finality or definitiveness, is in large part what makes it outstanding. It remains a palette of grey, with not one stroke of red, or one dash of white or black anywhere to tell you who’s right or wrong or good or bad. I’ve seen every episode from the outset of the series and it’s clear that Paul cares for his patients, that he’s genuinely concerned and even slightly hopeful that he might make a difference; but I still debate with myself whether he’s a “good” therapist, or “good” father, or “good” anything. They introduce him early on as weary and annoyed; “I’m just so sick of listening to other people’s problems,” he tells his analyst, Gina, in a flash of anger. And with Gina he’s angry often. He’s angry at how his life turned out, at his regrets, his broken marriage; he’s angry at his patients and how they resist his treatment; he’s angry at just how messed up people are and at the people who mess them up; and he’s angry at anger.

With his patients, though, he’s calm and reserved; you can almost see the words build and correct in his mind before he says them, always careful to be unaggressive and tactful. From watching him with Gina, though—in the “Paul Unplugged” episodes, as my brother calls them—we know that he’s actually boiling under his calm exterior, craving to break all the rules, scream at his patients or take them by the hand and “save” them. Every stutter takes on a new light, every twitch and pause. As a supposed-to-be neutral party, the therapist becomes just as empathetic, real and tragic as every one of his loud and talky patients.

Any given episode of In Treatment is a constant string of questions and epiphanies, contradictions and almost-payoffs. That’s why, even when the show might fall short, you’re quick to forgive it—because even in its lower points, it’s still trying and accomplishing far more than most any TV drama does.

So go ahead, project away. See yourself in the faces of these characters. And love them for it.

Sun. and Mon. @ 9:00pm HBO