K-SCORE: 15
Creators: Jim Patterson, Don Reo
Starring: Ashton Kutcher, Sam Elliott, Danny Masterson, Debra Winger, Elisha Cuthbert
“like... watching an episode of Full House only if periodically Bob Saget had screamed, “Fuck” at his children and then let an uncomfortable silence descend upon the living room”
Spoiler Level: Minor
SEASON ONE:
The opening song blares a loud dissonant chord in a rather pathetic verse, “Momma don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys,” and then, after a few minutes of repeating that and some generic farm scenery, it kind of fades out pathetically. This is an apt metaphor for the entire show. The Ranch starts out with a pilot episode that makes you grit your teeth with its awful writing, and then fizzles with nine subsequent episodes that feature close to no content. In the pilot, series protagonist Colt, a former high school football star, moves home to his family’s ranch. He doesn’t get along with his brother, father, or ex-girlfriend. That is essentially all that happens in that first thirty minutes, and, unfortunately, all that happens in the entire first season.
I stepped into this show because, as a Netflix original series, I watched its trailer. I admit I was fascinated. Even in the trailer, every single joke fell flat, an effect that was exacerbated by the presence of the old-school studio audience. How could they make something that bad? Who came up with this concept? Is it secretly brilliant and the trailer didn’t do it justice, for surely Netflix should know that the three-quarter-set studio-shot show, especially one with ranchers and the outdoors as a theme, is not a good concept? Like an itch I couldn’t resist scratching, I had to watch. I’m astonished I made it through all five-ish hours. The only question of mine that was answered was that: is it secretly brilliant? one. No, it’s not. It’s definitely not.
I suppose in its essence The Ranch plays like That 70s Show, except I’m guessing it’s not even enjoyable regardless of what drugs you’re on or in what quantities you’ve taken them. Ashton Kutcher, who plays Colt, does a fairly good job of convincing you that his character is so dumb as to be borderline mentally handicapped. So it's especially odd that everyone treats him as if his decisions are of the highest importance for the whole town and all its people. Far as I can tell, the only decisions he makes after moving home are to attempt to split up his ex-girlfriend and good-natured fiance, date a twenty-two year old, set his mother’s trailer on fire, and shoot a TV. His brother Rooster, played by Danny Masterson, is the best character merely on the grounds that he’s the only one not taking everything seriously. It’s content not worthy of serious consideration, so somehow this plays as more reasonable, even though he’s supposed to be comic relief. That writers in this era of filmmaking would create comic relief is a bad sign. But Rooster had perhaps five lines that made me chuckle, and so outscored his family on laughs five to zero to zero to zero.
The format is so bad it makes you feel sorry for the actors, like they’re caught in a poorly-written, poorly-directed stage play, except unlike all stage plays, people actually showed up to watch. The incompleteness of the sets and the loud audience laughter at the cheesy jokes recalls the worst of sitcoms’ pathetic history. Tacking on the family drama, drama regarding the financial unviability of the ranch itself, and the awkward discussions of sex all make it feel like you’re watching an episode of Full House only if periodically Bob Saget had screamed, “Fuck” at his children and then let an uncomfortable silence descend upon the living room.
The Ranch’s real crime has nothing to do with its misguided hearkening back to studio sitcoms or its unfunny jokes or its lack of meaningful conflict and thereby development. No, it’s real crime is that it seems to have been made by a pair of sadists looking to do nothing else but ruin Sam Elliott for me. They must have had a meeting.
Patterson: “Reo, I’ve got an idea for a show.”
Reo: “Lay it on me.”
Patterson: “You know that old actor from The Big Lebowski?”
Reo: “The one with the mustache who just sits at the bar and orders sarsaparilla?”
Patterson: “Yeah. Yeah. Everyone loves that guy.”
Reo: “They sure do. How could you not?”
Patterson: “That’s what I’ve been wondering. How could you not? So I say we make a show designed to destroy him. We’ll cast him as an ignorant unfunny dickhead who yells at his wife and children for, like, no reason.”
Reo: “Won’t work. People will assume his dramatic performance was brilliant. They’ll just take him seriously.”
Patterson: “Ha!” (twiddles fingers evilly) “Not if we put him alongside that annoying girl who played Kim Bauer on 24 and The Kutch. It’s genius! GENIUS!”
Reo: “Wh… why would we do that? Why would we want to destroy Sam Elliott for all those who love him.”
Patterson: “I have my reasons.”
Naturally The Ranch was greenlit for a second misconceived season. If I watch, it will only be to try to find out those reasons. Or because Graham found these few paragraphs amusing and wants to hear what vitriol I’ll spit out after enduring five more miserable hours of this shit.