Sherry Huang: February 2007 Archives

I admit it: I followed "The O.C." fervently during its first season, when Ryan was still a tough guy from Chino, Seth was still a videogame-playing geek, and Marissa and Summer were still hard-drinking, unattainable rich girls. (Plus, the theme song was rather catchy.)

Even though I stopped watching during the second season, when plotlines started getting preposterous and other TV shows found their way into my heart, I tuned in last night for the last hurrah of the Cohens and the Coopers.

Despite missing three years' worth of character and story development, I found myself easily absorbed in the finale, which was light-hearted, touching, and surprisingly poignant. Gone were the backstabbing, the affairs, and the gossip. Instead, the softer and mature sides of each character were highlighted.

Post-earthquake, everyone's future in Newport Beach is uncertain, especially as Ryan prepares to attend Berkeley College, Seth and Summer prepare to move in together, Julie plans for her wedding to a man called "The Bullit," and Sandy and Kirsten prepare for the birth of their daughter and consider moving out of their house.

Everyone in the episode comes together, offering rare moments of honesty, sacrifice, and support for each other. While visiting UC Berkeley, Ryan and Seth also visit the first house the Cohens lived in, the house they were the happiest. Though they fail to convince the same-sex couple living there to sell, the boys are not discouraged.

Meanwhile, Julie Cooper and Kaitlin share a tender mother-daughter exchange. In a rare moment of honesty, Julie reveals the real father of her upcoming baby while Kaitlin shows genuine concern for her mother's future.

On the wedding day, Julie shares another heartfelt moment with Summer. As Summer wonders if she is making the right decision to live with Seth, Julie confesses she regrets having married so young, never attending college and pursuing her own dreams. After she advises Summer to pursue her own life first, Summer gifts her with a locket holding a picture of Marissa. Both share a tearful moment that even brought me to tears because the scene was genuinely moving.

Back in Berkeley, the four Cohens are trying their best to buy their original house when Kirsten goes into labor. In Newport, when Julie discovers her best friend won't be at the wedding, she makes a thoughtful, emergency decision to have the wedding at Berkeley. While in the middle of the ceremony, the real father of Julie's baby interrupts the wedding and offers a chance to alter Julie's future, but she decides to stay single.

Afterwards, in a huge moment of sacrifice, the same-sex couple agree to sell the Berkeley house after seeing how much history and memories the Cohens had with it. Summer decides to pursue a temporary life of environmental activism, at Seth's encouragement, and Seth moves to Providence on his own. Ryan takes one last tour of the Newport home, his mind flashing back to all the memories he associates with each room and with Marissa.

Flashing a few years forward, we see more of what happens to each character: Seth and Summer finally get married in a Jewish wedding ceremony, Julie graduates from college, Sandy is a professor teaching law, and Ryan has a steady management job at a construction company. To bring the show back full-circle, we see Ryan noticing a young rough-and-tumble boy who is a reminder of his past life. In a "pay it forward" moment, Ryan asks the boy if he needs help, and the tumultuous four seasons of "The O.C." end on a hopeful, satisfying note that offers the inspiration of being able to change your own life and make it better for the future.

Angels found their way to "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" last night in Matt Albie's flashback to the days when he was still a new (and struggling) "Studio 60" writer seeking attention from the senior staff and attention from new hire-comedienne Harriet Hayes.

In an attempt to get a fresh sketch noticed by writing for his crush, Matt starts off on the wrong foot by pitching an idea about "crazy Christians" to Harriet. To illustrate the kookiness of Red State believers, Matt asks with disbelief: "Did you know 68% of Americans believe in angels?"

After he calls the Religious Right ''honey-crusted nut bars," an offended Harriet cuts off Matt with the revelation: "I'm a honey-crusted nut bar."

Shocked and embarrassed, Matt thinks of a way to get back into Harriet's good graces. They argue about the existence of angels--Matt asking how many exist, while Harriet mentions the Book of Revelation, where it's written that "10 thousand times 10 thousand" (or, 1 million) angels exist.

As Matt wraps his head around the concept of angels, he also attempts to help Tim Batale, a writer/friend fired from "Studio 60" for his addiction to pills. Even though nobody on the present-day "Studio 60" crew remembers Batale, Matt's flashbacks repeatedly reveal personal encounters with Tim, always dressed in a blue shirt and khakis.

Even when Matt realizes Tim Batale (an anagram of Matt Albie) never did exist but was a hallucination created from Matt's present-day addiction to pills, one wonders if Tim wasn't a metaphysical angel after all. In a partially drugged, dream-like state, Matt found himself face-to-face with an older mentor/angel meant to mirror his future self; an angel meant to warn Matt of the terrible results of addiction. Whether or not Tim Batale reappears in future flashback episodes, hopefully Matt will still find some sort of angel to help him kick his escalating dependency on pills.

When strategically cropped nude photos of Daniel Radcliffe from the play "Equus" first surfaced on the web, the first thought that ran through my mind was: Oh no, et tu, Daniel?

It seems that child actors these days are trying too hard to grow up, shed their innocent "baby fat" image, and mark their increasing maturity by doing the one thing usually reserved for adult actors: baring some skin (or all of it, in Radcliffes's case).

Recently, Dakota Fanning raised eyebrows with her new Sundance film, "Hounddog," where she wriggles her hips suggestively and is raped by an older teenager. Even though only Fanning's face is shown during the rape scene, some critics declared the film child pornography, a role with a subject matter too sensitive for a 12-going-on-13-year-old to portray. Yes, Dakota is never shown without clothes, but the idea of rape (a brutal physical act with nudity) is what frightens fans still eager to see Dakota's luminosity better used in "Charlotte's Web"-type roles.

There is something jarring about seeing a young actor or actress usually associated with bubblegum transform into bombshell by appearing in sensual photo spreads or movies. Think: Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Jessica Biel, Anne Hathaway, and Lindsay Lohan. Although Lohan was quoted as saying she would never do a nude scene in 2005, a year later she was quoted as saying a nude scene might be a possibility if it could lead to an Oscar. Some young actresses have never been pigeonholed in "innocent" roles, making their transition into adulthood easier (Scarlett Johansson, Keira Knightley, Mandy Moore), but even Scarlett and Keira (in their early 20s) raised eyebrows upon deciding to appear sans clothes for a Vanity Fair cover.

As for Daniel Radcliffe, despite being male, in the minds of devoted Harry Potter fans who watched him grow up onscreen playing the heroic, non-sexual "Boy Who Lived," the thought of him consciously choosing to grow up and dealing with sensuality and sexuality is discouraging. For me, a huge follower of Harry Potter, it feels like Daniel is beginning to check items off his "How I Can Show the World I'm More Than Harry" list. In addition to "Equus," Radcliffe will soon be appearing in "December Boys," a PG-13 film where he portrays an orphan who discovers romance.

Personally, I know it's inevitable that child actors (Daniel and Dakota included) need to grow up, but it's still frightening to think they want to tackle adulthood while the word "teen" is still attached to their age. It's understandable child actors want to gain respectibility (and perhaps an Oscar) by showing the world their range, but as my colleague Dilshad asks, what's wrong with waiting? Perhaps there will never be an easy transition--it's either do or die, with hopes that the audience comes along for the ride anyway.