In Shondaland, life is always busy and sometimes controversial


When you go to ABC on Thursdays, you're stepping into Shondaland. All three shows -- "Grey's Anatomy," "Scandal" and the new "How to Get Away with Murder" -- are produced by Shonda Rhimes and have key things in common. But does that make Rhimes a dictator, in the manner of some of her characters? That question bubbled up anew this week and I had a chance to ask about it this summer. Here's the story I sent to papers today:


By MIKE HUGHES


Just so we’re clear on this, Shonda Rhimes is not,
apparently, an angry black woman. Any similarity to Annalise Keating, the
powerhouse character in her new show, is slight and coincidental.


That question came up this week, after a New York Times
piece tried to praise Rhimes and her “How to Get Away with Murder.” The result
drew complaints and apologies.


But the question also came up in July, when she met the Television
Critics Association. We asked her then if Keating – very much in control,
ruling the room – felt autobiographical. “I didn’t write it and so it’s not
about me,” Rhimes said. “She’s not like me at all.”


Would she like to be like Keating? “I find her … a
fascinating, interesting character who’s writ incredibly complex … There are
aspects of her that we all wish we could be like,” Rhimes said.


What about the younger “Murder” co-stars? On the show, they
play new law students intimidated by Keating, their professor; do they find
Rhimes or Davis intimidating?


“Definitely,” said Karla Souza. “They demand a presence when
they walk in the room. And it’s invigorating to feel on your toes all the time ….
They’re people we obviously admire a lot.”


Rhimes is, after all, not your usual TV producer. She has an
entire night of scripted TV dramas – something that apparently hasn’t happened
since Aaron Spelling in the early 1980s.


It’s easy to envision her as a domineering auteur, molding
everything under her “Shondaland” production banner. Those shows have similar strengths
(vivid dialog, strong visuals and music, award-winning diversity) and flaws
(plot twists that sometimes spin wildly into soap/telenovela turf).


So it’s simple to imagine Rhimes as a real-life Keating or
Bailey (“Grey’s Anatomy”) or Pope (“Scandal”). In the Times piece, Alessandra
Stanley praised her, saying she took “the trite but persistent caricature of
the angry black woman, recast it in her own image, and made it enviable.” She
also opened by suggesting that Rhimes’ autobiography be “How to Get Away with
Being an Angry Black Woman.”


That drew the complaints and the Times apologies.


Certainly, TV has had its auteurs. There were seasons when
Aaron Sorkin and Linda Bloodworth-Thomason each wrote all 22 episodes of “The
West Wing” and “Designing Women,” respectively.


But auteurs usually only do one show; the notion of
producing several shows is better left to an easygoing delegator, in the
Spelling style. Rhimes created “Grey’s Anatomy,” “Private Practice” and “Scandal,”
but out of 437 episodes, she’s listed as the writer of only 41 and the director
of zero. She didn’t create “Murder”; that was done by Peter Nowalk, a
Shondaland producer-writer.


“Putting normal people in extreme circumstances (is) very
appealing,” Nowalk said. “What’s more extreme than being a first-year law
student who’s kind of innocent and naïve and thrust into a murder?”


Then he created a role strong enough to lure Oscar-nominee
Viola Davis. Her movie roles, she said, are “like being invited to a really
fabulous party, only to hold up the wall. I wanted to be the show.”


n 
“How to Get Away with Murder,” 10 p.m.
Thursdays, ABC; debuts Sept. 25


In a new-ish world, "Black-ish" captures life's fun-ish questions


There are wise minds -- none of them mine -- that consider "Black-ish" TV's next big thing. A poll of the Television Critics Association chose it as this fall's most promising new comedy. I have some others above it -- "Selfies," "A to Z," "The McCarthys" -- but I agree that "Black-ish" is an interesting show to watch and to think about. It arrives Wednesday (Sept. 24, just after "Modern Family") on ABC; here's the story I sent to papers:


By MIKE HUGHES


This is supposed to be a goal in life: You move up, giving
your kids a better world than you knew.


Then you start to wonder what you’ve skipped. “My son was 12
(when) he said, ‘Dad, I don’t feel black,’” recalled Anthony Anderson, star of
ABC’s new “Black-ish.”


So Anderson chatted about his own struggle to give his
family more; his son said he understood. “And then, in the same breath, he
said, ‘OK, Dad. For my 13
th birthday, I want a bar mitzvah’ …. I
told him, ‘I will throw you a hip hop bro mitzvah.’”


That sets the mood for “Black-ish,” which faces the
reactions to a changing world. Just ask:


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Kenya Barris, the show’s writer. “My wife’s a
doctor,” he said. “She’ll come home and … I’ll say, ‘I’m hungry.’ And she’ll go,
‘Me, too.’”  


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Tracee Ellis Ross, who co-stars as Anderson’s
wife, an anesthesiologist; in real life, she’s the result of upward mobility. A
generation ago, sisters grew up in a Detroit housing project. One (Tracee’s
aunt) became a doctor and the first black female to be dean of a med school; the
other (Tracee’s mom) is Diana Ross, mega-star.


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Larry Wilmore. At 52, he finds himself in high
demand – as a “Black-ish” producer-writer, a “Daily Show” correspondent and the
anchor of the show (“The Minority Report”) that will follow “The Daily Show”
when Stephen Colbert leaves.


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And Anderson, an expert on upward mobility. “I
grew up in the hood, in Compton, California,” he said. “And the existence that
my son knows is nothing short of privilege, being in private school since the
age of 4.”


For any ethnic group that assimilates or anyone who shifts
financial brackets, Barris said, there are adjustments. He remembers his
daughter going to great lengths to explain which classmate she was talking
about. “I was like, ‘Hold on. Do you mean the only other little black girl in
your class?’ And she was like, ‘I guess so.’”


In the new world, racial identities shift and words get
tricky. Still, it sometimes works out; Anderson said his son’s party was fine.
“His Jewish friend said that was the best bar mitzvah they’ve been to.”


n 
“Black-ish,” 9:31 p.m. Wednesdays (after “Modern
Family”), ABC.


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Debuts Sept. 24; the opener will rerun at 9:30
p.m. Friday (Sept. 26) on ABC Family.


"Koch": A life that was big and brash and kind of fun

Keywords

 Some people and some cities are fascinating because of their sheer audacity. You can put New York on that list ... and you'll find the "Koch" documentary fascinating. Most PBS stations will air it Monday (Sept. 22), on the first day of the TV season; here's the story I sent to papers:


By MIKE HUGHES


At times, a person and place seem to link neatly. That
includes Ed Koch and his city.


“New York is an in-your-face city,” Michael Powell said. As
a New York Times reporter, he will “often get the feeling that every New Yorker
has been waiting all his life to be asked to give a quote.”


And the late Koch – subject of a new PBS film – was the
extreme. Other mayors might be unavailable for comment; in New York, a newsman
coined the phrase: “Ed Koch was unavoidable for comment.”


He strolled the city, spouting his catchphrase, “How am I
doing?” He was also “hilariously funny,” said Diane Mulcahy Coffey, his
long-time chief of staff. “It was an adventure to work for him.”


That was the surface, but what about the substance of his 12
years in office?


New York “lost a million jobs in the 10 years before Koch
was mayor,” said Neil Barsky, director of the film. “The manufacturing base had
declined to nothing. People were fleeing …. It was very dreary.”


With the city teetering near bankruptcy, Koch made huge
cutbacks. When it could take out bonds again, Coffey said, he went in the other
direction. “He started his housing program for $5 billion. It’s a huge amount
of money …. That (shows) somebody who is daring and somebody who is bold.”


The steps started by Koch brought remarkable changes to the
Broadway district and the neighborhoods. A few years ago, Barsky decided to
show his daughter the city’s underside. “I remembered the rubble and
everything,” he said. “And we drove and we drove and we drove through the South
Bronx …. I couldn’t find it; it has all been rebuilt.”


But amid his frenetic dealings, Koch soon found himself
battling blacks and gays.


During his first campaign (in 1978), he had drawn black
support by vowing to preserve the Sydenham Hospital in Harlem. “Sydenham had
been a place that had hired black doctors when other hospitals wouldn’t,”
Powell said.  “It was seen as a critical
part of the black community.”


Shortly after being elected, Koch closed it. That may have
been necessary, Powell said. Koch could have admitted the promise was a
mistake; instead, he attacked protestors. “That became a real weakness.”


Also in that first campaign, Koch – who never discussed his
sexuality – raged at signs that said: “Vote for Cuomo, not the homo.” For the
rest of the campaign, he and Bess Myerson, the former Miss America, gave the
impression of a romantic relationship. “We were never going to be lovers,” he
said in the film.


That may have been a harmless deception, but critics said
the problem went further: In denial about his own sexuality, Koch failed to
confront the AIDS crisis.


Powell takes a mixed view of that. “Virtually the entire
country was very slow,” he said. “And New York City caught up very quickly ….
His greatest failure in the AIDS crisis was his inability to convey empathy.”


This was a pioneer in banning discrimination toward gays,
Coffey said. Koch championed the common man. “He started with nothing; he was a
hat-check boy in Jersey” at 12.


He savored people but – when confronted by critics – struck
back. “He was a complicated cat,” Powell said” … and a match for a complicated
city.


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“POV: Koch,” 10 p.m. Monday, PBS (check local listings).


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Filming was completed before Koch’s death at 88,
on Feb. 1, 2013.


Thursday football -- big and brief and maybe forever


Right about now, CBS seems terribly excited about its Thursday-night football games, which start Sept. 11. Here's the story I sent to papers:


By MIKE HUGHES


In the TV world, an eight-episode deal is greeted with a
shrug. Shows are tossed out quickly.


Then there’s the deal involving Thursday football – eight weeks,
nothing more, no guarantee for next year. It is “the most important and biggest
initiative (for CBS) in decades,” Sean McManus said.


McManus -- former head of CBS News, current head of CBS Sports,
son of the late sportscasting great Jim McKay – isn’t used to overstatement. So
what makes these eight weeks so big?


It’s partly that everything else gets smaller. As ratings
decline amid a sea of choices and time-shifts, football stays steady. The
Sunday games on NBC reach No. 1; Mondays on ESPN come close.


Now the NFL was offering Thursdays, as an experiment. “This
is a one-year deal,” McManus said. “It’s our job to see if we can” make it
permanent.


He’ll get seven straight Thursdays, simulcast with the NFL
Network … which has the night alone during the second half of the season. The
two will also combine for one Saturday doubleheader.


The first step is to make this not seem like just another
game. That includes:


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Opening music, a notion that also propels Mondays
and Sundays. In an airport hangar, CBS filmed Rihanna singing Jay-Z’s “Run This
Town”; actor Don Cheadle will add weekly narration.


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Sportscasters. CBS’ top unit – Jim Nantz and
Phil Simms, with Tracy Wolfson on the sidelines and retired referee Mike Carey
in the studio – will work each Thursday, even when the games are only on the NFL
Network. On 12 weeks, they’ll also do Sunday games. Preparation will be quick,
Simms said, but in modern times, “everything is at your fingertips.”


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Fresh graphics and lots of cameras. “We’re going
to have absolutely every piece of equipment you would need for a football game,”
Nantz said.


This will be more than networks have for play-off games,
McManus said. It includes a goal-line camera, a “special, high-def camera
suspended on one of the sidelines” and more. This is, CBS feels, a big deal.


n 
“Thursday Night Football,” kick-off at 8:30 p.m.
ET


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Simulcast on CBS and NFL Network for seven
weeks, starting with the Steelers-Ravens game Sept. 11; then seven weeks only
on NFL Network. Also, a Saturday doubleheader, with one game on each network


n 
Pre-game shows at 6 p.m. ET on the NFL Network,
then at 7:30 on both – but only on NFL Network in the second half of the season.
Post-game on NFL Network.


After football: Life gets smaller, weight gets bigger


 Visually, Scott Mitchell is a monolith; he stands 6-foot-6 and peaked at 366 pounds. Verbally, he's a soft-spoken, reflective guy, very easy to like. Now Mitchell (a former pro quarterback) and others are on "The Biggest Loser"; here's the story I sent to papers:


By MIKE HUGHES


Scott Mitchell has already seen the human body at its best
and worst.


The joy happened on the football field. “I lived my
childhood dream,” said Mitchell, who’s featured on the new season of “The
Biggest Loser,” starting Thursday.


He was a consummate physical specimen, 6-foot-6, 240 pounds,
firing passes. In 1995, he completed more than 59 percent of them, 32 for
touchdowns, with only 12 interceptions; the Detroit Lions had a 10-6 record.
“The feeling of being in front of 80,000 people is absolutely exhilarating,” he
said.


The bottom point came later. His weight had soared, boosting
sleep apnea, which creates pauses in breathing. “I was not wanting to go to sleep
at night.”


He began using an apnea mask six years ago, but nothing helped;
he weighed 366. In January, his father died at 76 from complications of
diabetes. “I thought, ‘That’s my future’ …. I was ready to give up.”


He didn’t. Mitchell – who grew up in Utah, in the Mormon
faith – sees the rest as a miracle. “It has re-energized and actually
solidified my faith.”


It started when he saw butterflies at the time of his dad’s
death and began to think of emerging from a cocoon. He saw ads for “Biggest
Loser” auditions in Salt Lake City, looking for ex-athletes; he E-mailed an
application, didn’t show up … but was contacted by the show anyway.


Amid a sea of former high school and college players, “Loser”
wanted some pros. It found:


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Damien Woody, another ex-Lion. He was a starting
lineman for a dozen years, including two Super Bowl wins with the Patriots. But
at 36, four years after retiring, his weight had gone from 327 to 388. “I’m a
father of seven,” he said. “I want to ride a roller-coaster with my kids.”


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Zina Garrison, a tennis star. She was a
Wimbledon runner-up in singles and a 1988 Olympic gold-medalist in doubles.
Now, at 263 pounds, she says she’d be happy “to be able to go out shopping and
not be out of breath.”


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And Mitchell, who savors those peak years in
Detroit. “I showed up at the training facility at 6:30 every morning. I lived
in the community and was part of it.”


But each off-season, he would put on 15-20 pounds, losing it
just before the new season started. When his career ended in 2001, “the 20 went
up to 40 and up to 60.”


Pros develop a taste for good food, Mitchell said. In the
playing days, Woody said, calories burn off easily. “When I retired from
football, I retired from everything.”


Now “Loser” put them with experts. A severe apnea might
cause someone to stop breathing 30 or more times an hour; doctors clocked
Mitchell at 92 and reworked his machinery. Along with that were the work-outs …
and the promise of returning to Utah, leaner and happier.


“I live in a beautiful state where there’s a lot to do
outdoors,” Mitchell said. “I have five kids who want my attention. There’s
never a day when I can’t find a way to stay active.”


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“The Biggest Loser,” 8 p.m. Thursdays, NBC.


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Two-hour episodes Sept. 11 and 18, then one hour