Desperate Housewives: Tragicomic Satire or Uninspiring Melodrama?

After a recent critical viewing of ABC's popular prime time show, Desperate Housewives, I found my understanding of not only that particular show, but of all popular culture's place in society heightened. When viewed analytically rather than casually, shows like Desperate Housewives lose value, cheapened by their formulaic, commercialist nature. A close viewing of the show's melodramatic and often predictable narrative structure, as well as the trends in the commercials aired during its runtime reveal its true nature: a money-making automaton of pop culture.

At the show's outset, we find its characters mired in their habitual bog of suspicion, infidelity, and sexual promiscuity. This essentially constitutes the entirety of the series' content, with the exception of a few murder mysteries to heighten the suspense. The show takes place on Wisteria Lane in Fairview, the archetypal suburban neighborhood. The show utilizes the normalcy and familiarity of its setting to a dual purpose: to identify with the vast bulk of prime time viewers, and to render its narrative twists all the more sensational.

Also, the bulk of the plot revolves around a cast of female characters. These women feature strong and differing personalities: Susan Mayer (Teri Hatcher) is quirky and self-conscious; Bree Van de Kamp (Marcia Cross) is stately but hides a dark past; Lynette Scavo (Felicity Huffman) is confident yet easily discomposed; Gabrielle Solis (Eva Longoria) is a materialistic man-eater, but can exhibit a child-like vulnerability. One commonality that these characters share is that they are all played by Hollywood stars, and far closer to popular culture's definition of beauty than most suburban women. However, their perceived personality flaws and weaknesses lower them to a more human level, rendering them more identifiable to the mainly suburban female viewer base. These viewers identify themselves unconsciously with the show's characters, who simultaneously serve as ideals for the viewer and appear to be "like us."

Having attracted its middle class, suburban fanbase, Desperate Housewives then focuses the scope of its narrative on issues both recognizable and controversial: marital infidelity, divorce, homosexuality, pedophilia, suicide, arson, murder, and rape, to name a few. The occurrence of these issues serves to heighten the show's shock value and melodrama, helping to ensure a loyal fanbase as viewers feel that they must tune in each week to find out what new surprises will transpire. The show's plot twists range in intensity, from simple emotional infidelity to hostage situations at the local supermarket. However, it will invariably feature some new and (usually) unforeseen development that impacts one or more of the characters that viewers have come to know and sympathize with.

At the beginning of the episode I viewed, two of its characters, Carlos Solis (Ricardo Chavira), Gaby's ex-husband, and Edie Roswell (Nicolette Sheridan) engage in an unexpected and intense sexual encounter Later, however, Edie is innocently informed by her young son, Travis, that he overheard Carlos saying that she was "bad in bed." This sparks a confrontation between the two adults that leads to a still more violent "rematch" that lands them both in the emergency room. When asked what caused their injuries, they reply, "bad sex."

Sex, and, more specifically, the importance of the quality of sex is a central and recurrent theme of the episode. Two of the films other central characters are also engaged in sexual situations that place emphasis on the importance of sex in a relationship. Susan and her fiancé, Ian (Dougray Scott) are involved in a car crash at the beginning of the episode when Susan swerves to avoid hitting a deer and their SUV lands in a pond. Unlike many other prime time shows to date, Housewives chooses not to center the ensuing drama around the crash; the two surface unscathed, and cling to the floating vehicle. However, Ian never learned to swim and is therefore helpless to assume his ideal masculine role as Susan's protector. The situation becomes still worse for Ian when Mike, Susan's ex-husband (whom Ian secretly suspects Susan of harboring residual feelings towards), arrives on the scene to make a dynamic and shirtless rescue, swimming Ian to shore. Ian (understandably) feels emasculated by the ordeal, while Susan feels an appropriate sense of gratitude toward Mike.

The episode further develops its theme of the significance sexual prowess when Ian is incapable of performing, due largely to his sense of emasculation, and witnessing the thank-you gift Susan bought for Mike on her nightstand. In this scene, the show again emphasizes the importance of "good sex," which is, in essence, what the episode is all about. For instance, at the conclusion of the episode, Edie and Carlos resolve their problems with still more sex. This time, however, the act is portrayed as gentle and intimate, the change spurred by Carlos' viewing of pictures taken of the two of them and Travis at the zoo. The shot pans to the digital photo of the three arrayed in an idyllic and familial pose, establishing for the viewer the importance of sharing a bond deeper than lust alone.

While this theme is a positive and uplifting one, it is essentially all the episode has to offer. Much of its content is simply lacking in originality, even predictable. More than once I found myself guessing (accurately) the next line of dialogue and its characters follow their cookie-cutter patterns invariably. Gaby, for instance, bore out my impression of her character in grand fashion, as she latched onto Fairview mayoral candidate, Victor Lang (John Slattery) as her newest love interest. Wealthy attractive, and successful, he fits the stereotypical role of the ideal man. Gaby reinforces the popular notion of women as power-hungry materialists, even launching into a monologue describing the surge of her interest in him while observing him at a successful campaign rally. Seated in the audience, she actually unbuttons her blazer upon witnessing the crowd's favorable response to Victor's speech. Immediately following the speech, she practically drags him to his limo, where she gladly offers herself sexually to him.

The show's treatment of women, while at times entertaining and funny, amounts to little more than a breakdown into their stereotypical roles: mothers, wives, materialists, and sexual objects. There is little edifying or innovative value to be found in Housewives. However, reviewer Justin Ravitz, of PopMatters.com, disagrees, stating that Housewives, through its consciousness of its own stereotypicality, transcends it: "In its acerbic yet frothy way, Desperate Housewives satirizes women's clichéd, impossible choices: career or family, love or sex, independence or intimacy." However, in the end Housewives is a show that wants to be satirical of the roles and choices imposed upon women, but ends up merely recapitulating them.

Considering the show's deficit of overt emancipatory value, and its addicting nature as a serial melodrama, it becomes clear that it is produced to serve the same purpose as virtually all TV shows: to attract viewers and deliver them into the hands of our consumer culture. Out of the show's hour of airtime, roughly forty-three minutes amount to actual footage. The remaining seventeen are devoted to commercials.

When viewed actively, rather than passively (which is the typical and, to advertisers, ideal state) the commercials aired during Housewives followed a general trend. Each of the commercials advertised a product oriented toward women, specifically middle-aged women. This trend is manifest in the frequency of commercials featuring cosmetics and beauty products , luxury cars and SUV's (emphasizing safety and convenience for families), health products, and other TV shows appealing to the target demographic. In the second commercial break alone, commercials for Victoria's Secret, the Venus Breeze razor, Oreos (being eaten by little girls in tutus), and Olay Age Defying Body Wash aired, consecutively. Other commercial breaks featured ads for menopause awareness and Botox, revealing the target audience of middle-aged, beauty-conscious women to be still more definite.

Based on Desperate Housewives' essential nature as a serial melodrama, its purported attempt but ultimate failure to uplift and enrich the viewer, and its participation in the common practice of exploitive advertising, it is evident that, while entertaining, it presents nothing new. It, like other TV shows of its ilk, is produced with ratings and advertising revenue first in mind, entertainment value a close second, and any form of edifying or emancipatory value a distant third.

Works Cited

"Liaisons." Desperate Housewives. ABC, New York. 15 April, 2007.

Justin Ravitz. PopMatters:. 11 October 2004.
tv/reviews/d/desperate-housewives-2004.shtml>.