This List Is Wrong

I understand that it's hard to keep up with America's insatiable desire for lists. When it comes to entertainment of all kinds, it's become the norm to start ranking things from best to worst the second they're presented to us. I'm definitely no exception; right after I see a well-made movie or a great sports game, it doesn't take long for me to start thinking about where it belongs in comparison to others of its kind. (For instance, the moment the whistle blew on the 2006 Rose Bowl Game between Texas and USC, I was already telling anyone who would listen that this was the "best college football game ever" when I should have been speechless in appreciation of what I'd just seen.) However, I do have a few specific issues with the following, which I am anti...

Time's 100 Greatest TV Shows. Don't get me wrong. There are a lot of things that this list gets right. The inclusion of Deadwood, Twin Peaks, both versions of The Office, Mystery Science Theatre 3000, SCTV, South Park, and Six Feet Under, for example, gives this list a lot of credibility in my eyes. And there are a few shows that could have definitely been included, but are understandably passed over because of their recent debuts. (Friday Night Lights, for example. Please see the recent Bill Simmons column, which is an impassioned plea for the show's continuation. I simply can't plug its greatness enough... just watch it. Please.) All in all, it's a pretty great list. However, there's one completely inexcusable omission: The O.C.

I know what you're thinking. The O.C.? Come on, it's a soap. Pure and simple. Entertaining, perhaps, but among the best shows ever? Well, considering that "King of the Hill" and "The Super Bowl (and the ads)" made the cut, I think this should have been a shoe-in. (The Super Bowl shouldn't qualify as a television show... it's a once a year sporting event, dammit.) And if you think about it, the case for The O.C. is pretty strong.

Though it certainly declined in its later seasons (read: everything past the halfway point of season 2), it's first season was pure television gold. The characters were excellently portrayed (with eye candy Mischa Barton providing the weakest link), especially Peter Gallagher and Kelly Rowan as Sandy and Kirsten. Gallagher was exceptionally good. Until Coach Eric Taylor of Friday Night Lights, the character of Sandy Cohen stood head and shoulders above all other television dads. The dialogue was sharp and witty. The plotlines were ridiculous and corny, but just believable enough. And who really cared about those, anyway?

You really rooted for the characters. We loved the cliches - it took about four episodes for my friends and me to stop calling McKenzie's character "Johnny Reb." Ryan-Marissa was the bridge from Ross-Rachel to Jim-Pam (with great improvement each time around, might I add) for our generation. Their kiss on the Ferris Wheel had a wonderful and tense build-up. (And one of my favorite South songs. Yes, I do remember these things. Kill me now.) As pathetic as it may sound, one of my fondest memories from my freshman year of college is standing in a room full of people screaming at Ryan as he struggled up the stairs on New Years during the much-maligned and highly entertaining "Oliver episodes." Pretty great.

It becomes really clear that The O.C. belongs on that list when you think about the effect it had on the TV world and today's youth culture. Skeptical? Well, first there's the music. As much as they might hate to admit it, Pitchfork owes its current popularity far more to The O.C. than it does to any other factor (it's definitely not the rightfully maligned prose of the reviews, that much is certain). For better or worse, The O.C. exposed a new audience to indie rock. The music was such a draw for the show that after every episode, all the songs played were listed online. And in the end, they released six different mixtapes, populated with the usual suspects of Death Cab, Stars, and Modest Mouse, but also including less immediately accessible artists like Of Montreal, Eels, and the Super Furry Animals.

Going hand in hand with this was the sudden sex appeal of the nerd. While Ben McKenzie's character was originally meant to be the heartthrob of the show, it was Adam Brody as the neurotic and witty Seth Cohen who stole it. Rather than turning him into a Screech-like sidekick, Seth became as much a centerpiece of the show as Ryan, if not more. I was shocked at the number of girls I knew who found Seth appealing - he was unabashedly dorky, mildly obsessive-compulsive, and into comic books and indie music. Suddenly, these things were not just OK, they were charming. (Or at least on television, let's not be too generous.)

But really, one needs look no further than the current TV landscape to see the power of The O.C. Though the show was a scripted drama, its glimpse into the lives of the Cali rich and famous was convincing and compelling enough to convince a certain network (MTV) that a reality show based in the same location with similar characters (only real) would work. Thus, Laguna Beach. From that, it's not a stretch to see its influence on The Hills, Newport Harbor, and basically every show that glorifies the young and wealthy (and preferably female). And now, coming with a New York twist, Gossip Girls. The thing is, The O.C. (at least in its first two years) stood head and shoulders above all these shows that it spawned. True, it was derivative of 90210 and its ilk. But it was better than those shows, and it remains better than both the fictional and real shows to which it gave birth. Long live The O.C.