'GREY'S ANATOMY' | The medical soap serves steady diet of 'man meat' as it sets the table for Kate Walsh's spinoff
May 3, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Dr. McDreamy found his estranged wife, Dr. Addison Montgomery, in a hotel room. They chatted nice-nice until the bathroom door opened and out walked a nearly naked Dr. McSteamy, abs rippling above a dangling towel.
It was the shower scene of women's dreams, and it established Addison as a sex-assertive role model.
"He was supposed to be just in a towel," says Kate Walsh, the erstwhile horny Addison. "And then [the director] was like, 'Let's kind of drop the towel a little.' And that was Eric [Dane's] first scene on the show. I was, like, 'You're man meat, baby, welcome aboard.' "
That moment penetrated the beginning of this third season of "Grey's Anatomy." As the season draws closer to wrapping, tonight's two-hour "Grey's" is what people in the TV industry call a "back-door pilot"; it effectively serves as the debut of a possible spinoff series for Walsh's character.
Can Walsh carry her own doctor show on ABC?
But of course. Walsh is emotionally compelling as Addison, and she will likely transfer "Grey's" fingerprints to her new show: having sex with hot dudes, cutting to the quick truth of situations, crying, doctoring and jumping more hot dudes. What's so difficult about that?
"Grey's" creator Shonda Rhimes is stacking the man-meat deck for Walsh's melodrama. Co-stars for her L.A.-set series are model-turned-actor Taye Diggs (People magazine's fourth-sexiest man alive), Tim Daly and Chris Lowell (this season's hot guy on "Veronica Mars").
Also following the "Grey's" pattern, strong actresses are lined up to co-star: Amy Brenneman and Merrin Dungey (Francie/Allison from "Alias").
The only obstacle at this point seems to be the terribly generic tentative title of the spinoff, "Private Practice."
There's relevant objectification to be said of how redheaded Walsh, 39, radiates on TV. She's got a lucky face. A little dark mascara on her bedroom half-lids shifts her sharp face into a throwback look of dames and power dolls of noir in the 1950s, circa Lauren Bacall.
She is also a tall glass of sultry, a model-turned-actress who swings from diva to androgynous. She's played a comical girlfriend on "The Drew Carey Show," a transsexual on "CSI," a happy lesbian in "Under the Tuscan Sun" and now a sexual predator shaking up a coalition of the willing on "Prey's Anatomy."
But right, she's a good actress, too. The moment that proved her worth as a series lead came in this season's first episode. In a flashback, she was deeply vulnerable, pleading for her husband, Derek, not to leave her over her affair with "man whore" McSteamy. She was extraordinary.
I ran into Walsh at a party a few months ago, before ABC announced the spinoff. I asked her about the portrayal of women on "Grey's," and she pointed out these characters are many generations removed from neurotic and wacky icons like Lucille Ball and Mary Tyler Moore.
"Now there's definitely a little more room for, 'Hey, this is what's happening out there' [in women's lives.] People are identifying and they're listening."
Apparently, people are identifying with Addison's fully flowered, romantic libido. After bonking Drs. McSteamy and McDreamy (Patrick Dempsey, People magazine's second-sexiest man alive), she played doctor last week with Dr. Alex (model-turned-actor Justin Chambers).
"I do have a lot of action on television," Walsh told me, with a big smile.
The pressing question about "Private Practice" isn't about Walsh, but Rhimes. It stands to reason the show could follow the "Grey's" template of empowering women with internal strength but stereotypical moodiness, while they navigate relationships with two-dimensional, weak-willed worms.
I've come to terms with that formula as a feminist's echo to TV's sliming of women as crime victims, harpy moms and Pussycat Dolls.
But hopefully, Rhimes will not transfer "Grey's" weaknesses: People coincidentally walk in on scenes exactly at the moment their mates are flirting with others; love triangles are belabored for three seasons, and actors' hard work gets trampled by overplayed, saccharine, pizzicato music scores.
Walsh, on the other hand, just needs to keep being Addison, and she understands her character is primed to lighten up.
"I think it's realistic. Her marriage just fell apart, and she's in Seattle. What the hell is she doing there? And she's got her job, and that's the only thing she's got going right now, so she's putting everything into it," she said.
But, she said, "Can't she just crawl across the bar and do a tequila shot?"
Well then, what better town for Addison to get her shallow groove back in than L.A.? It may not be the best place to find a husband, but it's overflowing with meaty man whores.
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Dr. McDreamy found his estranged wife, Dr. Addison Montgomery, in a hotel room. They chatted nice-nice until the bathroom door opened and out walked a nearly naked Dr. McSteamy, abs rippling above a dangling towel.
It was the shower scene of women's dreams, and it established Addison as a sex-assertive role model.
"He was supposed to be just in a towel," says Kate Walsh, the erstwhile horny Addison. "And then [the director] was like, 'Let's kind of drop the towel a little.' And that was Eric [Dane's] first scene on the show. I was, like, 'You're man meat, baby, welcome aboard.' "
That moment penetrated the beginning of this third season of "Grey's Anatomy." As the season draws closer to wrapping, tonight's two-hour "Grey's" is what people in the TV industry call a "back-door pilot"; it effectively serves as the debut of a possible spinoff series for Walsh's character.
Can Walsh carry her own doctor show on ABC?
But of course. Walsh is emotionally compelling as Addison, and she will likely transfer "Grey's" fingerprints to her new show: having sex with hot dudes, cutting to the quick truth of situations, crying, doctoring and jumping more hot dudes. What's so difficult about that?
"Grey's" creator Shonda Rhimes is stacking the man-meat deck for Walsh's melodrama. Co-stars for her L.A.-set series are model-turned-actor Taye Diggs (People magazine's fourth-sexiest man alive), Tim Daly and Chris Lowell (this season's hot guy on "Veronica Mars").
Also following the "Grey's" pattern, strong actresses are lined up to co-star: Amy Brenneman and Merrin Dungey (Francie/Allison from "Alias").
The only obstacle at this point seems to be the terribly generic tentative title of the spinoff, "Private Practice."
There's relevant objectification to be said of how redheaded Walsh, 39, radiates on TV. She's got a lucky face. A little dark mascara on her bedroom half-lids shifts her sharp face into a throwback look of dames and power dolls of noir in the 1950s, circa Lauren Bacall.
She is also a tall glass of sultry, a model-turned-actress who swings from diva to androgynous. She's played a comical girlfriend on "The Drew Carey Show," a transsexual on "CSI," a happy lesbian in "Under the Tuscan Sun" and now a sexual predator shaking up a coalition of the willing on "Prey's Anatomy."
But right, she's a good actress, too. The moment that proved her worth as a series lead came in this season's first episode. In a flashback, she was deeply vulnerable, pleading for her husband, Derek, not to leave her over her affair with "man whore" McSteamy. She was extraordinary.
I ran into Walsh at a party a few months ago, before ABC announced the spinoff. I asked her about the portrayal of women on "Grey's," and she pointed out these characters are many generations removed from neurotic and wacky icons like Lucille Ball and Mary Tyler Moore.
"Now there's definitely a little more room for, 'Hey, this is what's happening out there' [in women's lives.] People are identifying and they're listening."
Apparently, people are identifying with Addison's fully flowered, romantic libido. After bonking Drs. McSteamy and McDreamy (Patrick Dempsey, People magazine's second-sexiest man alive), she played doctor last week with Dr. Alex (model-turned-actor Justin Chambers).
"I do have a lot of action on television," Walsh told me, with a big smile.
The pressing question about "Private Practice" isn't about Walsh, but Rhimes. It stands to reason the show could follow the "Grey's" template of empowering women with internal strength but stereotypical moodiness, while they navigate relationships with two-dimensional, weak-willed worms.
I've come to terms with that formula as a feminist's echo to TV's sliming of women as crime victims, harpy moms and Pussycat Dolls.
But hopefully, Rhimes will not transfer "Grey's" weaknesses: People coincidentally walk in on scenes exactly at the moment their mates are flirting with others; love triangles are belabored for three seasons, and actors' hard work gets trampled by overplayed, saccharine, pizzicato music scores.
Walsh, on the other hand, just needs to keep being Addison, and she understands her character is primed to lighten up.
"I think it's realistic. Her marriage just fell apart, and she's in Seattle. What the hell is she doing there? And she's got her job, and that's the only thing she's got going right now, so she's putting everything into it," she said.
But, she said, "Can't she just crawl across the bar and do a tequila shot?"
Well then, what better town for Addison to get her shallow groove back in than L.A.? It may not be the best place to find a husband, but it's overflowing with meaty man whores.
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