Fox's 'O.C.' fills summer void with smart suds but no surprises

"The O.C." finds its place in the firmament of soap opera halfway through tonight's pilot, when the hero has his dark secret unveiled and a shocked bystander murmurs: "Chino — eeyeew."

This memorable bit of dialogue summarizes all that is cleverly adept in Fox's new fall series, launching early to beat out the seasonal rush for viewer attention. It debuts at 9 p.m. (KCPQ-TV).

Despite the titular suggestion of crime drama, "The O.C." stands for Orange County, an undifferentiated piece of Southern California whose previous claims to fame were a more usable airport and last year's world champion Anaheim Angels.

No more. In soap opera, social standing is essential grist and "The O.C." gleefully flings itself into in a rat's nest of class distinctions where humble Chino and snooty Newport Beach rarely meet — except on TV, when a troubled teen from the wrong side of the tracks is taken in by an idealistic, well-heeled attorney.

The teenager is Ryan. Newcomer Benjamin McKenzie portrays him with sexy, hooded eyes and a subdued-but-powerful demeanor that suggests the young Russell Crowe. The performance wears very well, suggesting McKenzie will soon grace magazine covers.

The role of attorney Sandy Cohen is filled by veteran actor Peter Gallagher. Already a master of character roles in theater and film, success on the small screen has so far eluded him. Maybe this will be his break.

In fact, if "The O.C." does succeed, it will owe a lot to its onscreen talent. Most of the cast is quite good; a standout is Adam Brody, who plays the teenage Cohen son with a quirky, rapid-fire delivery and poignant awkwardness.

But "The O.C." obviously needs more than engrossing characters bolstered by solid performances. It needs plot, and this proves a tougher challenge.

Once upon a time, every soap-opera story could be summarized succinctly: Bad things happen to good people.

The modern soap demands nuance. No character is so rotten as to be irredeemable; no goody-two-shoes goes without a stumble. Today's friend may be tomorrow's foe, and vice versa.

To this end, "The O.C." is faithful to recent history. Like Fox predecessors "Beverly Hills 90210" and "Melrose Place," it's been crafted by writers who cannily leave room for different relationships to form based on human nature's mutating tendencies.

The show's creators also are wise enough to not paint the rich as too crass or unsympathetic. Instead, they rely on the classic crutch of secret unhappiness.

A pretty neighbor and potential love interest, Marissa (Mischa Barton), may be alcoholic. Her father (Tate Donovan) is in trouble with the Securities and Exchange Commission. Her rich boyfriend, Luke (Chris Carmack), is deeply insecure and threatened by Ryan.

The dialogue supporting the series' behind-the-scenes turbulence and culture clash is sophisticated in a realistic fashion. Most of the characters are fairly complex.

And yet, I'd grade "The O.C." a "B" — for two reasons.

Much of the action feels contrived or illogical. Over the first two episodes, Ryan gets into four separate unprovoked fights: a beating from his mom's boyfriend, and three attacks from Luke and his bullying buddies. This is worryingly repetitive.

Similarly, it makes no sense for Kirsten Cohen (Kelly Rowan), Sandy's wife and Seth's mom, to adamantly oppose Ryan's presence — except that it provides some missing tension and an explanation for her decision to call the police when Ryan disappears.

"The O.C" also disappoints because it fails to break ground or catch you off-guard. Perhaps the show's producers thought scenes of decadent rich kids boozing it up and snorting cocaine were enough.

But they aren't, because soap operas are fundamentally emotional exercises. Designer clothes and excessive misbehavior are just window-dressing; what we want is the turn we didn't see coming.

In this regard, "The O.C." doesn't deliver. The plotting is predictable — especially when the writers substitute homage for their own creative juices, as with the second episode's "Rebel Without a Cause" scene where three lonesome teens bond in an empty house.

On the other hand, it's unlikely the teens that Fox hopes to court with this show will have seen "Rebel" and recognize a pale imitation.

And in this summer of dismal reality, maybe a scripted series with smart conversation, likable personalities and thoughtful characters is enough. Why ask for surprises, too?

Kay McFadden: 206-382-8888

Copyright © 2003 The Seattle Times Company

Last Updated Sat, Aug 30, 2003