All in all, 1999-2000 was a pretty good season to be a bitter old person, which is to say, as defined by TV advertisers and the Internet economy, anyone over 27. Not only did dotcom whippersnappers get spanked by the NASDAQ, but TV's youthquake--when networks unleashed a hot-bodied army of Dawson's Creek clones to capture young audiences--triggered an avalanche of zit fatigue. The teen cop (Ryan Caulfield), the earnest young politicos (D.C.), the sexy prepsters (the never-aired Manchester Prep)--all were dead on arrival, while older-skewing dramas thrived.
For much of the new crop, DOA was not a moment too soon. But the backlash also caught three of TV's brightest, most heartfelt programs--Felicity, Roswell and Freaks and Geeks--each of which happens to feature protagonists not yet old enough to drink, and each of which is counting on creative fan support and deus ex machinas to keep it from becoming a teen angel.
Or, in the case of Freaks, to help it rise, Carrie-like, from the grave. The final episode of the comedy-drama, about high schoolers fixated on Dungeons and Dragons and Led Zeppelin in 1980, may be the most elegiac, exuberant and inventive finale of the season. But you'll have to go to a museum to see it. When NBC axed the series in March--after shelving and relaunching it so many times viewers needed a divining rod to find it--the Museum of Television and Radio made the unusual offer to screen its six unaired episodes at its New York City and Los Angeles locations, on April 29 and May 13, respectively. As creator Paul Feig notes, the museum honored the show earlier at its annual William Paley Festival, an ironic comfort as the ratings flagged. "The running joke on the set was, 'We're doing it for the museum.' As it turned out, we actually were."
Freaks' strength, and perhaps its ratings liability, was that it resisted easy pigeonholing. It captures the joy and miseries of adolescence but from a wry, adult perspective, without easy nerd jokes, implausible sex scenes or a single false moment. "It's closer to Welcome to the Dollhouse than to Dawson's Creek," says executive producer Judd Apatow. "And as much as I liked Welcome to the Dollhouse, it didn't make as much money as Scream." Indeed, the closest analogs to Freaks are not TV shows but independent films--Dollhouse, Rushmore, Dazed and Confused. Unfortunately, there aren't as many outlets for indie TV as for indie film. So the show's studio, DreamWorks, is making a last-ditch effort to sell it to a broadcast network, arguing that the show's fiercely loyal fan base indicates room for growth.
Such Lazarus acts, while rare, have become less so lately, with six networks looking for content. CBS picked up its hit JAG from NBC, and the WB just spirited off ABC's teen-witch com, Sabrina. (ABC's psych-ward drama, Wonderland, and on-hiatus Sports Night may also shop themselves around.) But Apatow admits the re-Freaking of TV is a long shot. "If anyone needs to fill an hour with NBC's lowest-rated show," he cracks, "they'll buy it!"