Sinsemilla Sitcom?

Showtime's new series, Weeds, has already gotten a fair amount of attention from the media. Even before the first episode aired, there was a quiet debate over the pros and cons of a series whose protagonist (a widowed, middle-aged mother of two named Nancy and played deftly by Fried Green Tomato's actress Mary-Louise Parker) sells marijuana in her suburban neighborhood. Even a city-council member is buying.

It was with some amount of skepticism that I put in the first disc of season one, which contains the first six half-hour episodes. Not only am I an HBO kinda guy—Deadwood is the best show ever made, in my opinion—but I am also used to the hour-long format.

Could this really stack up? Could it do so in thirty minutes?

And how would its writers apply the illicit drug element? Would they exploit it for cheap effect or would they instead try their best to develop it as another character in the series?

Whether the show is pointing out the hypocrisy and lonely alienation of contemporary suburbs (which, in ironic fashion, share much with Faulkner's and O'Connor's dusty South), or building emotional tension through the struggles of the characters (primarily the protagonist and her youngest child), there is a lot to admire in this series. Much to my surprise.

If anything, the marijuana element only undermines what is proving to be a potent series.

The hopelessly naive economics of the show will frustrate some members of its audience. More than once, Nancy is forced to leave thousands of dollars worth of collateral (her car in one instance, her engagement ring in another) for an ounce of marijuana which would sell for $300 to $500. Her money problems ring false as she lives in a small mansion and enjoys state-of-the-art electronics, wears designer fashions, and pals around with city council members. At no point does she sell that brand-spankin'-new cam corder for that ounce she needs so badly.

Nevertheless, most audience members will forgive this misstep and others will simply not notice it. The series is worth watching—for its opening theme song alone, which I cannot bring myself to skip even upon multiple viewings—thanks to its self-conscious examination of contemporary Gucci living, and its ability to cram an amazing amount of character driven drama into thirty scant minutes.