Desperate Housewives

Yes, because sometimes we all need the help of our friends.  Yes, because sometimes neighbours become closer than family.  Yes, because sometimes we need to learn that there’s more to life than appearances.  And so on and so forth: these are just some made-up lines from Desperate Housewives because it’s too hot to bother checking for real quotations on the internet and it’s funnier to think of your own.  Each episode in the eight-season run of this classic show drew to its conclusion with omniscient posthumous narrator, Mary Alice Young, saying “yes” in her slow calm voice before passing judgment on the goings on of Wisteria Lane.  Cue a montage of shots featuring each family coming to terms with that episode’s action.

This week I’m delving into an iconic boxset from years ago, just because it’s sometimes nice to be nostalgic.  Yes, because sometimes it’s nice to be nostalgic (oops, Mary Alice-ing again).  In many ways, Desperate Housewives was soap operatic trash, but the clever narrative framing outlined in the previous paragraph gave it an original spin, elevating its suburban banality to high-end drama.  Premiering in 2004, my nineteen-year-old self and all of my new-found nineteen-year-old college buddies at university instinctively knew that this was a big moment in TV.  Any show that opens with the suicide of a lead character is bound to combine enough mystery with enough dark humour to reel in anyone looking for distraction.  We were hooked.

The aesthetic offered great escapism.  There were sunshine-drenched white picket fences, leaned over for the exchanging of gossip by glamorous ladies whose intertwined stories were brought to life in the richly imagined town of Fairview.  Visiting a dear friend in Connecticut years later, I fulfilled a lifetime goal of beholding a place that looked just like Wisteria Lane, alarming locals with my coveting of their garden borders.  The show’s leads ran households, kept down jobs, raised children, drank too much wine, all without a hair out of place.  The perfection on the surface was so clichéd that you knew it would only take a small scratch on the surface to find dystopia beneath.

It was around these secrets that each series was structured.  While some inconsistency abounded in the quality of each mystery, the pacing and cliffhangering kept us coming back for more.  And these were the days before Sky Plus, so we would literally need to convene around someone’s actual television at the pre-ordained time as confirmed by the TV listings page in a newspaper.  There was even a hairy moment during the holidays when everyone with a TV had returned to their regions of origin and those of us remaining behind were forced to use the college TV room in order to keep up with the action.  This was a place best avoided, as it was dominated by chain-smoking communists (this is neither exaggeration nor embellishment) but after a very spirited democratic vote, we managed to enact a change to Channel 4.  Sadly, my year abroad meant I missed the whole second series and have never caught up with it since, but, on reflection, my fluent German is some consolation to me for the fact I never found out who the Applewhite family were keeping in their basement.

But who are these wives, and what about the houses they live in?  What makes them so desperate?  Prepare yourself for a journey through each in turn, peppered with my subjective judgments.

Susan Mayer

Often cited as the lead, mostly because Teri Hatcher had the biggest star power on day one, Susan Mayer was dominated by her endless complicated relationship with Mike Delfino.  At her best, she would be scurrying around her neighbours’ flower beds, mischievously spying, but she never really seemed malicious and was therefore easy to root for.  Her kids were kind of tedious.  I had forgotten about Julie Mayer’s total existence, and Mike Junior got brattier by the episode.  Her rivalry with Edie Britt, however, generated some of the most barbed shade ever committed to dialogue.

Edie Britt

Despite not making it through all the series, let’s deal with this character ahead of the others.  She owned her sexuality, was unashamed to get what she wanted and took advantage of others’ weakness, all while looking banging.  What a hero.  I think we could all learn a thing from Edie.  The show was poorer without her.

Lynette Scavo

This housewife had balls.  When she wasn’t dealing with cancer or suffering an unruly brood of ginger children, she was bossing things in the husband department.  Tom Scavo defined flannel, combining various levels of infidelity with trying to open a stupid pizza restaurant.  I remember she was also committed to recycling during some awkward product placement in series six, but I’ll forgive Felicity Huffman anything.  Anything.

Gabrielle Solis

The bombshell with a lot of the best lines.  Eva Longoria clearly had too much fun rolling around with the gardener, while later series saw her battling with two chubbily cute daughters giving her as much sassmouth as she deserved.  Her partnership with Carlos was tested throughout the show’s lifetime, but his constantly exasperated expressions showed that nobody could resist Gabrielle’s charms.

Brie Van de Kamp

The ur-housewife.  Named after a soft cheese, but with a heart of stone.  Anyone who keeps a household so immaculate has got my respect.  I can barely pick my underpants off the floor at the best of times.  Her devious nature was a delight, yet seeing her terrible children torture her in return was even more gratifying.

Karen McCluskey

I admit that she was never one of the core housewives, mostly appearing to fulfil the recurring role of elderly neighbour.  But this old battleaxe easily outsassed the others.  Straight-talking, self-serving and snarly, she would occasionally melt into such kindness that her steady presence over all eight seasons has earned her a special mention here.

So…  yes, because sometimes it’s important to dwell on the shows that shaped your life.  I still have friendships now based on shared viewership of Desperate Housewives in my student days.  Running all the way to 2012 (though ending up set in 2017 due to a five-year forwards leap that boldly refreshed the character and storyline arcs) the show also featured in my farcical media career, with various brands involved in bidding for its UK broadcast sponsorship back when I was always the last one standing at any free drinks event.  Now I get anxiety if I’m not in bed by 10pm.  Your real life might not necessarily include tornadoes, kidnaps, vengeance, murder or home-making, but Desperate Housewives offered exemplary entertainment and, for that, it must be saluted.  Yes, because sometimes it’s- sorry, I’ll stop that now.