Jason Isaacs as a detective who loses his wife and/or his son in a car accident -- every night he goes to sleep and wakes up in a reality where one or the other survived. But it wasn't the premise that sold me. The promos revealed a thoughtful, mature show that possessed a gimmick but did not rely upon it.
Anyway, point being, I'm a bit late to the game here, but Sweet Jeebus, Portlandia is some funny shit. I'm not particularly aware of Portland culture, but it matters little -- the show walks this bizarre line where it first puts hipster culture on a pedestal and then pelts it with Pabst Blue Ribbon cans until it falls off and breaks. If you don't have IFC, Portlandia still streams on Netflix.
Listen, I don't blame them for canceling the show. I don't. The show suffered criminally low ratings. Nobody really... watched the program. Hell, I didn't watch it from the beginning. We grabbed about six episodes for the plane trips on our vacation, and found ourselves in love with the show. A show that was drifting lazily toward cancellation.
You know where I am at 9PM on a Friday night? I'm not out sassing it up with the ladies. I'm not drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon with a tangle of hipsters. I'm not snortling blow from inside a hooker's uterus. I'm watching the fuck out of Ghost Adventures on the Travel Channel.
Even the best television shows have episodes that are real stinkers -- clunky junkers that don't really feel right. But, for every shitpile episode, you also get those episodes that are truly gilded -- they sit high atop a hill overlooking all of the Empire, serving as a gleaming example to what television can truly aspire.