Television programming—network or cable—is not a high priority, as most of my favorite shows have not aired in decades and movies occupy much of my time. I do watch from time to time, usually news or Turner Classic Movies, or a specific program, such as American Idol, when a friend makes a convincing case (though I haven’t seen another Idol since Sanjaya).
Thanks to DVD, along comes Swingtown, which apparently aired on CBS and, for all I know, it may still be on the schedule. My Facebook friends, well, those with whom I’ve reconnected from grade school in the Land of Blizzards and Blagojevich, kept making reference to Swingtown, set in Chicago’s suburbs during the Seventies, a place and era I know something about. I asked Paramount for a look at the first season.
First, one, then, two episodes—and I was hooked. I’m up to number four, it keeps improving and I feel like I can’t stop watching. The premise of the show isn’t much at first glance—a couple of swingers entice others to join in the fun—and I’ve seen so many smarmy cable shows, such as Entourage, Queer as Folk, or that David Duchovny debacle, none of which appeal to me—I prefer Frasier, Wings and The Waltons—that I had low expectations.
Based on the first four episodes, especially the third, which is all about tearing down life’s bad wallpaper, Swingtown (no relation to the Steve Miller Band tune) is brilliantly conceived and executed. Each character in the ensemble is interesting. Scripts are economical. There is plenty of substance to savor in each episode and everything telescopes neatly into something more meaningful. Even the visual transitions—clever by themselves—are logical.
The program is best experienced from the pilot forward, unfolding its interlocking stories in layers, but there are essentially three couples: conservative Roger and Janet, who personify the Fifties—for better and worse—hedonistic Tom and Trina, who represent the godawful Sixties—and they’re tame, kids, believe me—and Bruce and Susan, who presumably symbolize the self-enlightenment Seventies. The whole cast is good but Lana Parrilla as Trina the temptress pulls the strings on Swingtown. She’s a kitten with a whip and a vocabulary and she walks away like an Underalls commercial.
Susan’s the moral center, seeking both honor and happiness here on earth. Janet’s the comic relief and her rapid-fire lines are a hoot. Husbands are less developed, of course, and Susan’s Bruce is as bland as a brown paper bag but the men are passably involving. There are a few kids, too, and they’re relatively forgotten by the self-indulgent parents to the point of danger. The show gets the essentials down pat, in both dramatic and period detail: Susan strives to integrate living by rules—Janet—and knowing when to break them—Trina—and Swingtown is honest about the era’s drug and alcohol abuse and so-called progressive education, which gets a well-deserved if implicit skewering in a character who teaches Joyce, Kierkegaard and Bob Dylan (many of us survived having teachers like this; one of mine taught Pink Floyd and John Lennon).
Swingtown doesn’t glamorize or rationalize the Seventies’ hedonism, which was real and deeply destructive, though it dramatizes the anything-goes morality with humor, candor and, in particular, sincerity—a quality today’s cynical TV wasteland distinctly lacks. Don’t watch for shock value and don’t expect middle class values to be ridiculed. Swingtown is not the cousin of South Park, unlike much if not most of what’s on TV; it’s not sneering at everything in America.
Try to tune out bad covers of overused (and unnecessary) Seventies songs, some of which weren’t even released in 1976 when the show takes place, and try to overlook Swingtown’s other flaws, including a horribly miscast actress as Susan’s high school daughter. Enjoy an intelligent TV show that rips conservative and liberal conformism alike while aiming for something better than foul-mouthed smut and pop culture jokes. So far, Swingtown is like seeing Mayberry melded with Pleasantville. Definitely worth a look.
