Prime Suspect Review: Series Premiere

There is one thing that kept the series premiere of Prime Suspect from descending into mediocrity: Maria Bello.
Never before have I watched someone who wanted something so badly. Bello, as Jane Timoney, is able to keep up with the boys and beat them at their own game of being a detective in New York City.

While the “Beef Trust” is content to sit around, only going after the suspects that seem guilty and spending the rest of their time drinking and keeping Jane off lead detective work, Jane is dedicated to being an actual detective, even after one of their own died of a heart attack.

And that is what keeps Prime Suspect from being just another show about women being held down in a traditionally male-dominated field.

The Beef Trust doesn’t have a problem with women coming in and being detectives, they have a problem with Jane, specifically because they believe she slept her way to the top.

What sets Timoney apart from most procedural heroines - and something that will probably help her eventually win over the force and audiences alike - is she really does feel like one of the guys. There’s no gung-ho, overly earnest optimism here. Jane is a dark character, filled with bright spots of dark humor and crudeness. She is interested in doing her job well and going over every angle, not closing the case as quickly as possible and getting a beer with the fellas after work.

Another trait that sets Jane apart is how her personality doesn’t flip a switch when she gets home. This isn't someone who suddenly become the stereotypical happy homemaker when she sets foot in her house or is around children.

Jane doesn’t have a problem checking into her boyfriend’s ex and her new husband’s past as leverage to get his son to spend some nights with them, nor does she have a problem showing a traumatized child her gun if it means more information about her case.

The final act perfectly encapsulates who Jane is. No matter what the cost or consequence... she is going to do her job, even if that means chasing a suspect and getting into an absolutely ruthless, dirty fight. Nothing knocks her down for long and no one will stand in her way, even if it means getting tackled and punched in the face.

While the episode's case of the week felt rather generic, and the other characters need some definite story arcs

Six Actresses Not in Search of TV Work

IN her dressing room, so newly occupied that the only visible decoration was a bag of Reese’s Pieces, Kat Dennings was pointing out the couch where she’d had a minor meltdown here on the Warner Brothers lot the night before.
That evening she was preparing to face a studio audience and film her second episode of “2 Broke Girls,” a CBS comedy that will make its debut on Monday, and she freely admitted she didn’t handle the pressure well.
“I was talking on the phone to my mother,” said Ms. Dennings, 25, a spirited, self-deprecating actress whose film credits include “The 40-Year-Old Virgin,” “Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist” and “Thor.” “I was like: ‘Mom, there’s no air. I’m going to throw up. What do I do?’ She’s like: ‘Go out there, you’ll be great. Go get some water. Eat a piece of fruit.’ ”
Ms. Dennings said she was revitalized once she took the stage, but she might want to keep her mother on speed dial anyway. This season she is among a handful of actresses in their 20s and 30s who are hardly household names yet have been given the pressure, the obligation and the opportunity of carrying their own network shows.
In a crop of new series that run the gamut from bawdy comedies (like “2 Broke Girls,” on which Ms. Dennings plays a sassy waitress who befriends an heiress who’s hit the skids) to “Mad Men”-style period dramas, the notoriously dues-paying medium of television has turned to these relatively untested young women to be the faces and voices of its broadcast networks.
Their résumés vary considerably. Some have played one or two prominent film parts or labored in the salt mines of supporting television roles, while others have hardly been seen on screen before. One possesses a quaint acting trophy called a Tony Award. None has the long track record or recognizability that usually prefigures a starring prime-time role.
Yet they understand that they came to their positions through some combination of the shifting popular culture, coincidence and the experimentation (or random flailing) of the networks — not any specific outreach to female talent or viewers.
“I don’t think that these shows are on because women are the stars of them,” said Whitney Cummings, 29, a creator of “2 Broke Girls” and the star of her own NBC comedy, “Whitney.” “The shows that just happened to be the best this year happened to be centered around women.”
They are also hopeful that their shows — if they survive the season — might signify a moment when characters who are their ages and in circumstances they recognize from their lives are finally considered worthy of their own narratives.
“There is something very interesting about a woman in her late 20s, early 30s,” said Laura Benanti, a Tony winner for the 2008 revival of “Gypsy” who is co-starring in the NBC drama “The Playboy Club.” “She’s clearly on the cusp of something, changing from something into something else. And that leads to many more stories to tell.”
It is a first-year class that includes Zooey Deschanel, a star of the romantic comedy “(500) Days of Summer” and lead singer of the retro-rock band She & Him. She is playing a socially awkward single woman living with male roommates in the Fox comedy “New Girl.” At 31, she has had a healthy film career, but she said her goofy charm made her an oddity in the movie industry. As she described it, the reaction she elicits from Hollywood is: “ ‘She’s not a cheerleader, she’s not a jock, she’s not a goth. We don’t know what to do with her. Who is she?’ Well, I’m my own thing.”
Ms. Deschanel said that the offbeat roles she covets have become even harder to come by in recent years, and Ms. Dennings echoed this point, saying that the harsh reality of filmmaking economics was a strong incentive to consider a transition to television. “It was really disappointing to lose something because you won’t get any money for the production,” she said.
Without comparable film or television credits, Ms. Cummings has been making her own luck as a stand-up comedian, parlaying jobs on Comedy Central’s celebrity roasts into a one-hour special and a pilot deal with that network. Though that project was not made into a series, it caught the attention of Michael Patrick King, who produced “Sex and the City” and directed its two films, with whom Ms. Cummings wrote the pilot script for “2 Broke Girls.” That show, in turn, was picked up by CBS just as NBC gave the green light to “Whitney,” a comedy about Ms. Cummings’s relationship with a live-in boyfriend. (She continues to receive creative and consulting credits on “2 Broke Girls.”)
Though she knows unfamiliar viewers may believe she is the beneficiary of overnight success, Ms. Cummings said she had been “aggressively, violently failing” for years.