So why all the effort to camouflage the true nature of “Laughlin”? It seems that CBS, as well as the producers of the show, aren’t sure America is ready for a weekly murder mystery with musical numbers. The thing is, they’re probably right. Despite the musical’s resurgence in popularity, particularly on the silver screen, the idea of a musical television series still sounds off-putting—even to fans of musicals.
This might explain why, at a time when almost any idea can be recycled on television, the idea of bringing the musical to television is still mostly undiscovered country. The most notable example is Steven Bochco’s catastrophic “Cop Rock,” a 1990 cop show with musical numbers so unbearable they must be seen to be believed. Bochco’s misstep may have at least partially torn up the road for “Laughlin,” but it isn’t all his fault. Most of the blame for the show’s failure–and it is a massive failure–lies with the producers for abandoning their vision.
The show follows the same basic story as its forebear, the successful British series “Blackpool.” Ripley Holden is a family man whose dream is to open a casino in Laughlin, Nev. He has grand ambitions for the casino, ambitions he doesn’t have the capital to make good on. Making matters worse, his business partner and main financier abruptly pulls out of the project. So when Holden’s ex-partner turns up dead, Holden is the main suspect. Oh, and there are songs. Not original songs, pop songs—Holden’s rival, Nicky Fontana (Hugh Jackman), strolls into his club while singing along to the Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy For the Devil.” That’s so you’ll know he’s the villain, you see. Later, Bunny Baxter (a tuneless Melanie Griffith) tries to put the moves on Holden and he rebuffs her, leading to the world’s most awkward performance of Blondie’s “One Way or Another.” When watching this show, it’s important to keep a handkerchief nearby, either for the tears of unintentional laughter or for the sympathy flop sweat.
But what really damns “Laughlin” is its refusal to commit to its format. “Blackpool” was quite charming—silly and off-kilter, but charming, because the musical numbers were full-fledged all-singing, all-dancing performances. The producers of “Laughlin” seem so tentative in making their musical a musical that background characters don’t even join in. It’s as if only certain characters were told it’s a musical, so entire rooms of people don’t break into song and dance, they just go about their business as though there’s not someone loudly singing to himself, not unlike, say … a crazy person. You feel truly embarrassed for the performers.
After viewing the pilot, it becomes clear why CBS treated the show as such a hot potato, and why it will probably come to be known around the network’s marketing department as “The Show Of Which We Do Not Speak.” It’s not as bad as “Cop Rock”—it’s worse. “Cop Rock” was excruciating, but it was audacious, groundbreaking and oddly captivating. And it’s a show you could respect—at least the full realization of its horrific vision. “Laughlin” is a show that doesn’t want to be liked as badly as it wants not to be hated. And that makes it much easier to hate.
