Do we really need another television show or movie that presents a "real" girl's view of the secret world of rich, awful people? Well, if it's well-written, spunky and pretty to look at, why not? The pilot of Privilegedmoves quickly, perhaps purposefully tricking us into thinking that we're watching a version of Sex and the City, when its heroine, New York defunct tabloid writer Megan Smith, gets fired. She's then sent to Palm Beach to work on her writing career as she tutors the beautiful, filthy rich spoiled twin granddaughters of cosmetics mogul Laurel Limoges, played by Anne Archer, who seems to be channeling a combination of Dixie Carter and Faye Dunaway in Mommie Dearest. The houses in Privileged are huge, the hair glossy, the cars flashy, the requisite gays bitchy and of course the love interests rich and smarter than you'd think. So, fine, it sounds like a combination, then, of The Devil Wears Prada and The Nanny Diaries.
Behind the bling though ,the show is full of cute dialogue, the kind that female television actresses should wish for. The writers manage to pull off jokes that reference Rumer Willis and Facebook but in a way that doesn't seem to be trying too hard to stay relevant. What helps is that the majority of the snappiest lines are delivered by Joanna Garcia (formerly of Reba, who manages to convey a goofy energy that seems pretty genuine. I caught her character doing a cute little jump/twirl after a bit of dialogue and it struck me that it's the sort of thing that could look incredibly contrived by any other actress who could convey "personality" instead of actual personality. "Everybody loves Lucille Ball but nobody ever does anything about her," she says early in the show after dying her hair red—you'd be hard pressed to find a young actress who can even convince us that she knows who Lucille Ball is
The pilot was written by Rina Mimoun, a vet of "Gilmore Girls" and "Pushing Daisies," who seems to have experience with writing well for women. She also carves out a few good jokes that could easily be lost in such an opulent setting: "Shout out to Uncle Ben," Megan says, after informing her employers that with great power comes with great responsibility. And earlier in the episode, her editor (played by Debi Mazar) hands Megan not a kleenex but a damp napkin that's been sitting under a Starbucks cup when she starts to cry.
The show bogs down a little with some of Megan's personal dramz. She'll have to choose between the cute hometown boy friend or the cute new rich boy friend, which is a pretty trite story development in this sort of tale. She also has issues with her sister and father, which simply isn't as interesting as when she's left to her own dizzy devices.
Speaking of trite, it may be a corny reaction from me that I found it heartening that Megan, and the show, attempt to get at the real people beneath the socialite surfaces. As bitchy twin Sage tries to make Megan's life a living hell, Megan tells her that the "wasted heiress" routine is "played out." The show seems to be a guilty pleasure without so much guilt, as we're offered eye candy along wtih an attempt to get beneath these girls' surfaces and give them a modicum of dignity. If I enjoyed this show on its own, it's going to seem like the smartest thing on TV when watched immediately following 90210.
Grade: A-
Stray observations:
—This series is based on the book "How To Teach Filthy Rich Girls" by author Zoey Dean. These teenagers and their books.
—I also approve of the music on this show. "Mr. Blue Sky," even if it's not performed by ELO, is always a good choice.