Seriously. If viruses earned awards in the germosphere, the one plaguing my immune system would get a gold star for dogged persistence. It is determined to survive, by whatever mutative means necessary.
Why is it that when we’re sick we are overcome with the insatiable desire to watch horribly bad tv? Or is that just me? Some people dig out old copies of childhood favorites — Fraggle Rock, The Goonies, The Princess Bride. Me? I go straight for Remington Steele. When I’m ill and stuck in bed, there is nothing more satisfying than that gem of fabulously awful ’80′s television.
DayQuil, a heap of Kleenex, eight cups of tea, and Remington Steele? Oh yeah.
The show is a detective procedural whose premise is that private female detective Laura Holt (Stephanie Zimbalist) opened a detective agency under her name – and she never received any clients. So she invented a boss with a “decidedly masculine” name: Remington Steele. And viola! She suddenly had more cases than she knew what to do with. Things heat up when a mysterious con man (Pierce Brosnan) assumes the identity of Remington Steele on a case involving rare gems. While he doesn’t succeed in obtaining the diamonds, he happens to like masquerading as a fake, famous detective and decides to take on the persona permanently.
Sound bad? Oh, deliciously so. You’ve got a British, classy yet often clueless ex-con who’s obsessed with classic movies, and a hyper-feminist, stubborn control-freak — and they somehow are attracted to one another like a shark to chum. Remington Steele‘s entertainment lies in its shockingly corny dialogue, unrealistic plots, overly exaggerated acting, and outrageous fashion. Gah – the fashion! Laura Holt has a penchant for sling-back heels, ill-fitting pencil skirts, and (I kid you not) fedoras. Brill-i-ant.
I cannot help but love a program in which characters deliver these kind of lines: “Nothing titillates the senses more than a first rate sting.” It’s cheesy, absurd, tacky…and terrific fun.
I don’t know what it is about bad television, but it’s the perfect antidote for when I’m ill. Remington just makes me feel better as I cough up chunks of lung. It’s as simple as that.
And on that note, I’m gonna pour another glass of o.j., slather on the Vicks, and have a hot date with Remington Steele.
