Every now and then, very far and few between, there's a show that comes along and does quite a remarkable thing. Using television as its medium, it tests the limits of what we're capable of feeling as emotional beings by exposing us to material that's both immensely uplifting and downright heart-wrenching - all in the span of a single hour.
I'll never forget a particular episode of
Ally McBeal that aired in its very first season. It introduced the tragic tale of a transsexual prostitute who manages to run into our lovably quirky little lawyer (played by Calista Flockhart, who will only and
always be Ally to me). After Ally befriends him and attempts to recruit him to her firm, with the hopes of a better life, he retreats back to his old lifestyle with an all-too-dreadful conclusion. I cried a lot. But what astonished me the most was the fact that, only moments before, I was laughing hysterically at a gospel tribute to a man who hated short people.
That was the magic of
Ally McBeal. It tugged at our heartstrings, tickled our funny bones, and touched our souls through the power of music, each and every week. Even the whimsical world of
Glee hasn't managed to evoke the same as effectively and, ultimately, as realistically as
Ally.
Ally McBeal was a show about love. The search for love. The hope for love. The love in self-acceptance and that between the dearest of friends. It far surpassed anything that would be expected from a show about a bunch of lawyers. This was no standard courtroom drama.
The cast was phenomenal. My personal faves were the neurotic, Porky Pig-channeling John Cage (Peter MacNicol) and Elaine Vassal (Jane Krakowski), the office vixen/inventor (face bra, anyone?) who'd burst into a song and dance at every opportunity. There were, of course, some additions in later seasons that I could have done without, but for the most part - I loved these people.
The guest stars were frequent and consistently fabulous (ie. Tracey Ullman, Robert Downey Jr., Dame Edna Everage). The Christmas episodes were always a festive treat. And there was a
very shocking death in the middle of the series that'd immediately send anyone grasping for the tissue box.
In the end,
Ally McBeal made it okay to be a little loony. It made me a fan of Vonda Shepard and dancing babies. It encouraged a new appreciation for Barry White and unisex bathrooms. And it managed to inspire me to embark on a personal journey in discovering my very own theme song.
It was
truly one-of-a-kind.
I still believe that it could have gone on for more than five seasons, despite the ratings slump (which I blame on the "less silly, more mature" Ally). And the final episode still remains a rushed disappointment. Still, no show is perfect. It is what it is.
Bygones.
~~~
Here, now, is a tiny peek into the aforementioned episode... a small glimpse of my favorite law office... a quick glance at a very tragic character... and a not-so-nice ode to short people, courtesy of Jennifer Holliday:
