Fail to the Chief
So the news came down yesterday that Commander in Chief has been not just non-renewed, but big-time effective-immediately cancelled. As in, they’d rather show extra editions of “Primetime” than air the episodes already in the can. Let the post-mortem begin.
My prediction? We’re going to hear lots about how the country “just wasn’t ready for a woman President,” not even on TV. That it pandered to much to the feminist fringe. Or, from some quarters, that it pandered too much to the mainstream.
The truth is, it pandered too much to the Afterschool Special audience. Which hasn’t existed for at least a decade. Seriously. Witness the ratings and buzz when the show started lo these many months ago in September. The country was plenty ready for a real, complex, kick-ass woman President, at least on TV. But instead of West Wing: the MacKenzie Allen Years, we got a series of one-hour morality plays featuring SuperMom (Leader of the Free World Edition), delivering wooden dialogue from a botoxed mouth, never failing her family or her country in any way that couldn’t be resolved by the end of the episode. Who needs character development, sophisticated plotting and moral gray areas when you’ve got an “Independent” President who embodies goodness and looks great in a ball gown pitted against a cartoonish nemesis so completely nefarious I kept expecting Donald Sutherland to sprout a handlebar moustache and start twirling it?
So no. It wasn’t that we weren’t ready. It wasn’t even American Idol. It was the writing, stupid. Because stupid is one thing women most certainly aren’t, but the Commander In Chief writers never seemed to figure that out. I, for one, won’t miss it.