666 Park Avenue: “Lazarus: Part 1”
One of the swankier-looking duds of the fall 2012 TV season, 666 Park Avenue was packaged and presented as a deluxe guilty pleasure of a show, a supernatural soap opera with storylines about love, sex, family secrets, and power whose tendrils were rooted in a glamorous, pricey chunk of Manhattan real estate. ABC ripped the show off the air last December, and has now finished burning off what remained of the 13 episodes produced. Used as summer filler, the show looks more forlorn than ever, with the actors stylishly bundled up in their winter coats and hats and scarves, promenading along streets lined with denuded trees—images that are interrupted by commercials showing a recent college graduate loading up on new tech at Best Buy while other people beat the heat with ceiling fans from Loew’s, soak their skin in water-soluble Cortisone cream before jumping into the swimmin’ hole, and kick off their shoes to enjoy their McDonald’s iced coffees on the beach. It makes for a disorienting time warp effect that the show itself kept reaching for but never quite got a handle on.
Why did 666 Park Avenue bomb? It had plot lines about Gavin (Terry O’Quinn), the Satanic master of the title location, creating scandals and terrorizing priests as part of his plans to draft a political career for Henry, the fiancée of his new favorite tenant, Jane. It had mysterious organizations with names like the Order Of The Dragon and strange symbols, and other flim-flammery of the kind that can get viewers excited about a show’s mythology. It had characters conducting ritual human sacrifices and being literally dragged to their doom through walls and floors that reach out to engulf them—an effect that looked sillier every time it happened, which didn’t keep it from happening a lot—and a 117-year-old man. And despite all that, it managed to be just relentlessly boring. Among the recent shows that have been a part of ABC's Sunday-night melodrama block, it's the one that proved that you can combine over-the-top storytelling with a full complement of good-looking people in a way that's not the least bit addictive.