The next presumptive Fox hit is so frothy and mindless as to be almost nonexistent. The dialogue makes you wish it were.
There’s nothing wrong with fun, light entertainment. But “The Wedding Bells” is so derivative, you can almost read the movie titles from which it obviously swiped. It’s so weightless, it would be funnier if the characters squeaked their lines with helium breath.
Thanks to initial lead-in “American Idol,” the series has a built-in audience.
“Wedding Bells,” a silly time waster about three sisters who take over the family wedding business when their parents divorce, reruns its pilot at 8 tonight on Fox (KDVR-Channel 31). The hour, “For Whom the Bells Toll,” first aired Wednesday in the luxe post-“American Idol” slot.
The saddest part of this disappointment is that the show’s creator and co-executive producer is the once-acclaimed David E. Kelley. Jason Katims, who previously was attached to the superb “Friday Night Lights,” also has signed on as co-executive producer, along with Jonathan Pontell, previously of “Boston Legal.”
Their combined credentials would lead us to expect more. Instead, like so many wedding receptions, this one may cause a stampede to the bar.
“Wedding Bells” rings in its regular Friday slot tonight.
Billed as a romantic dramedy, it’s both less sophisticated and less creative than previous Kelley successes – not as acerbic as “Ally McBeal,” not as outrageous as “Boston Legal,” not as issue-oriented as “The Practice,” not as wildly imaginative as “Picket Fences.”
Remember, Kelley has had his share of duds too.
“Snoops,” the Gina Gershon misfire about a distaff detective agency, ran for five episodes in 1999. “Girls Club,” about three babes at a law firm, managed seven episodes in 2002. “The Brotherhood of Poland, New Hampshire,” Kelley’s 2003 foray into writing about loser men rather than ditzy women, lasted three episodes.
Onward, to this rip-off of “The Wedding Singer,” “The Wedding Planner,” “Big Day” and every other series that ever depicted the wacky hijinks that ensue during a last-minute nuptial emergency.
Oh, they’ve also cloned “the Nazi” from “Grey’s Anatomy,” modeling a tough-talking African-American wedding Nazi on the Chandra Wilson character. This time Sherri Shepherd does the honors, barking commands and intimidating prissy clients.
Admittedly, Shepherd is a hoot reciting the company line on how to make the bride happy: “Each should feel like the only happy, happy bride on the planet because it’s their special, special time.”
The only other strong line has been over-exposed in promos: “We’ve got a runner!” – relayed after a fleeing bride-to- be.
Maybe in 1951 this kind of romantic comedy about wedding jitters, ceremonial mishaps and party disasters was fresh. No disrespect to the original Fred Astaire-Jane Powell “Royal Wedding.” But how many times can you see this sort of thing? Weekly?
Sarah Jones, KaDee Strickland and Teri Polo portray the Bell sisters, women with various intimacy and relationship issues themselves who work to give others the imagined wedding of their dreams. Perhaps to cut production costs, the sisters don’t travel to different wedding sites each week. The action is set at a place called The Wedding Palace, a sort of one- stop wedding shop, owned by the family.
Beyond dealing with their unfulfilled personal lives, they must juggle a flirtatious quasi-Italian chef, a jilted wedding photographer, a prickly wedding singer and the inevitable wedding crashers.
Feel like you’ve already seen it six times? Wait until you get to the dialog, with lines you’re embarrassed to admit you can predict before they escape the characters’ mouths.
“Don’t be afraid to feel, Annie,” Jane (Polo) tells her repressed sister (Strickland).
If successful, the series will have to thank its post-“Idol” promotional time slot more than its writers. Inertia is a powerful force when multiplied by more than 30 million mesmerized, idle “Idol” viewers.
Don’t be afraid to feel the stale, manipulative and utterly uninspired nature of this show, America.
Don’t be afraid to get off the couch.
TV critic Joanne Ostrow can be reached at 303-954-1830 or jostrow@denverpost.com.
