
Chicago Fire
Where’s the fire? In Chicago, it seems. But the flames outside Firehouse 51 are nothing compared to the heat generated inside.
In the high-pressure, über-derivative world of network television, sometimes it’s not good enough to copy just one idea: You have to find synergy behind lots of cultural touchstones to make a pilot fly these days. “It’s got William Shatner and Twitter!” “It’s The Incredibles meets Blossom!”
NBC, no doubt envying the success other networks have had with 24, Lost and (looking a bit further back) The X-Files, apparently decided to squash all three of ’em together and put the resulting mush on the fall schedule. They call it The Event.
Aliens? Check. Government conspiracies? Check. Mysterious plane flights and confusing leaps through narrative time? Check and check. All we’re really missing here is Jack Bauer himself and the Smoke Monster—oh, and maybe a cameo from the Cigarette-Smoking Man, just for kicks.
That’s not to say The Event is all “mush,” exactly. We don’t know that yet. In fact, a handful of episodes in, we don’t know much of anything. We do know that the United States has been keeping nearly 100 human-looking aliens under lock and key for the last 60 or so years. We also know that President Elias Martinez has decided the time has come to set them free. And we know that just before their release, some other aliens (who apparently escaped the original roundup) decided to assassinate (or pretended they wanted to assassinate) the one guy trying to help them.
Hmmm.
Oh, there’s also a young computer hacker named Sean who’s trying to rescue his girlfriend, Leila, from nefarious assassins who may or may not be aliens and who may or may not be working for the government.
The show is watchable—as far as it goes. But it lacks the must-see quality its producers were so obviously aiming for. The Event’s makers are trying so hard to recapture the magic of a Lost or an X-Files that they forgot those shows’ success was predicated not only on surreal plotlines and gasp-inducing twists, but on originality, character development and crisp writing.
Those are the kinds of things that can’t just be traded out for sexual images and allusions (women wear low-cut tops; two lovebirds kiss and vacation together) violence (Shootouts! Explosions! Hostage situations!) and foul language. The Event’s content is no more extreme than what you’d expect to find on many other prime-time shows these days. And, compared to 24 and some episodes of Lost, it’s arguably tamer thus far. But it’s still very much there.
All of which make the show something of a nonstarter. Or a nonevent.
(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at letters@pluggedin.com, or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)
Sean and FBI Agent Collier attempt to track down Leila’s kidnapper, Vicky—not knowing that’s exactly what Vicky expected them to do. She allows Leila to escape, knowing Leila will then call Sean and beg him to rescue her. Meanwhile, passengers of Flight 514—who were dead throughout most of the previous episode—make a remarkable recovery, only to develop mysterious bloody noses.
While trying to escape, Leila bloodies her hands and wrists with a piece of glass as she saws through the ropes binding her. She hits one of her captors in the face and then, apparently, shoots her. Sean and Collier have a vicious shootout in a parking garage before escaping would-be assassins. One of those killers guns down an innocent man and steals his car. We see a dead police officer in a hallway. Sean lies to procure information—as does almost everyone else on the show. Characters say “d‑‑n,” “h‑‑‑,” “b‑‑tard” and use God’s name in vain. They down wine and beer. Leila’s captors give her a chamber pot for bathroom use. In flashback mode, Sean and Leila kiss.
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
Where’s the fire? In Chicago, it seems. But the flames outside Firehouse 51 are nothing compared to the heat generated inside.
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