Wipeout: "John From Cincinnati" Leaves Me Hanging

Wow. I had read the script for John From Cincinnati last fall so knew what to expect but even I couldn't have anticipated the bloated, pretentious mess that ended up on screen.

From the fertile mind of David Milch (Deadwood), comes this metaphysical surfing series about a network of burn-outs, losers, and a crumbling family in a small, beachside town beside by illegal aliens (perhaps of the garden variety and the extraterrestrial kind).

Launching on the back of the final episode of The Sopranos (which I watched, despite giving up on the show a few seasons back), John From Cincinnati certainly won't be the program to redefine HBO as The Sopranos did all those years ago. Instead, it's a more turgid, modern-day version of the network's own Carnivale, which (though I was a fan) did nothing to engender the network to the viewers.

John From Cincinnati is meant to be a convergence of genres: surf movies of the 1960s, apocalyptic visions, and the family drama. Into this kitchen sink drama comes the titular John Monad (Austin Nichols), a cipher who is early on called "a babe in the woods." Is he a prophet, come to warn the town about the end times? An idiot savant who can effortlessly surf like a champion? A rich brat with amnesia and, er, learning difficulties? We're not entirely sure. But he comes into the Yost family's lives just as they themselves are experiencing certain miracles: pater familias Mitch Yost (Bruce Greenwood) finds himself levitating a few inches off the ground after a morning surf; family friend Bill (Ed O'Neill) discovers his beloved dead bird come back to life. Are these signs and wonders or portents of things to come? Is it truly Judgment Day?

Ah, I couldn't really care. Sure, John From Cincinnati has that trademark Milch hard-boiled dialogue, laced liberally with expletives, but the characters grate from the moment they appear on-screen, whether its the caustic Cissy Yost (Rebecca DeMornay), the aggressive faded surf champion Mitch, vulture surf manager Linc (Luke Perry), or the smack-talking junkie Butchie (Brian Van Holt). (Not to mention Willie Garson, Matt Winston, and Luis Guzman.) Yes, these characters certainly are "colorful" but they aren't remotely sympathetic enough to make me want to take another gander at this series.

The Sopranos left its audience screaming "Don't stop" as it faded to black, but to follow up the end of a network-defining drama that rewrote the book on crime dramas and infused the zeitgeist with its tough talking lingo, makes John From Cincinnati not only a bitter pill to swallow, but I definitely have a hard time, as Journey might say, believin'.