On the face of it, the ABC
sitcom Spin City
is breathtakingly cynical: The "spin" of the title refers to deputy mayor
Michael J. Fox and his team of political operatives, who labor every day on
spit-shined policies and clever obfuscations, all to prop up a spectacularly
dim-witted mayor. What's more, the administration is literally in bed with the
press, as Fox sleeps with sexy beat reporter Carla Gugino (who left after 12
episodes) and no one from either corner bats an eye, save for the episodes when
the flagrant conflict of interest causes some friction. It's all one big
circle-jerk, orchestrated by a bullshit maestro clearly modeled after George
Stephanopoulos (who makes a late-season cameo). Yet for all the show's upfront edginess,
it's still a by-the-numbers network sitcom—sometimes clever, mostly
toothless, and written to stuff the greedy maw of a canned laugh track.
After carving out a pretty
good career in movies, Fox was coaxed back to television by co-creator Gary
David Goldberg, who made Fox's career by casting him as Alex P. Keaton in the
long-running sitcom Family Ties. The concept was simple: Fox would play Alex P.
Keaton all grown up and maybe slightly more progressive, though still an incorrigible
slickster. Goldberg and co-creator Bill Lawrence were also smart enough to
surround Fox with a capable supporting cast, including Barry Bostwick as the
mayor, Alan Ruck as Fox's fiercely competitive number two, Richard Kind as the
clueless press secretary, and Connie Britton (Friday Night Lights) as a frisky
double-entendre factory. The thing that's both appealing and neutering about
the show is that they're all likeable, even when they're shoveling manure by
the stable-full.
Spin City's first
season—finally available on a four-disc, 24-episode
set—contemporizes the Family Ties formula by going heavier on the gags and
lighter on the lesson-learning earnestness, but they're cut from the same
cloth. Between generic sex and relationship shenanigans, Goldberg and company
pay lip service to hot-button issues like same-sex marriage and needle-exchange
programs, all in the zippy, walk-and-talk style that Aaron Sorkin would advance
a couple of years later on Sports Night. It's a disposable, take-it-or-leave-it
series, but fascinating as a time capsule of Clinton-era politicking,
represented here as nothing more sinister than a collection of affable
bullshitters. Ah, those were the days.
Key features: Cast commentaries on a few episodes, a
1996 session at The Museum Of Television And Radio with Fox and Goldberg, and a
30-minute assemblage of interviews with cast and creators.