THERE are actually guests every day on "The View." And no doubt a few people tune in for the chance to see John Lithgow or Lorraine Bracco. But most "View"-ers are there for the ladies -- Barbara Walters, Joy Behar, Elisabeth Hasselbeck and Rosie O'Donnell. Especially Rosie O'Donnell. Because while it is possible to catch Lithgow or Bracco on Dave or Oprah, the only place you're going to see O'Donnell compare the furor over the recent capture of a British naval crew by the Iranian government to the Gulf of Tonkin or reduce Hasselbeck to near tears is "The View."
A festival of opinions, informed and otherwise
CRITIC'S NOTEBOOK
The decibel level rises on `The View,' and so do the ratings, thanks to Rosie O'Donnell.
And it's much more satisfying to see these moments in real time than to have to wait a few hours for them to make the YouTube rounds. Indeed, if you employ one of O'Donnell's favorite research tools and Google "The View," you will, on most days, come up with a list of "recent news" entries long before you hit the show's website. In the last few weeks, these included calls by conservative pundits for O'Donnell's dismissal, on the grounds that some of her comments, including those about the capture of the now-released British crew and the collapse of Building 7 of the World Trade Center amount to treason. Or bad journalism. Or something.
Never mind that O'Donnell is not a journalist, that she offers her opinions as opinions. And as for treason, well, if a growing suspicion of the Bush administration and an antiwar sentiment are treasonous, then we are largely a nation of traitors.
Still, it is both refreshing and disturbing to see the skepticism and bulldog tenacity that once marked the great news outlets upheld most visibly by a comedian hosting a talk show. Especially one who is more than happy to spend many minutes a day discussing "American Idol."
But it is certainly very good television, as the half-million viewers who have joined the show's audience since O'Donnell became one of its hosts last year seem to prove. In the last year, the women of "The View" have perfected their act -- surrogates for everyday (albeit mostly liberal) Americans gathering in the break room or the carpool to rattle their newspapers and offer opinions about the war in Iraq or Don Imus or last night's "American Idol."
It is an unusual and often disconcerting mixture. Historically, talk shows have either devoted themselves to politics or avoided the subject altogether. Women-run talk shows especially have most often restricted themselves to social or personal issues -- racism or the war might be addressed but through individuals' stories rather than discussions of policy, which TV execs have tended to leave to the wonks.
The women of "The View" are anything but wonks. But that doesn't mean they don't have a few things to say on most any subject. This is the attraction and the limitation of the show -- they offer opinions on a welter of issues with little or no expertise.
Think of it as Internet television -- a group of bright, often amusing, totally non-expert people discussing the events of the day. Walters is the doyenne, bringing experience and gravitas to the show (O'Donnell is never as loud or mouthy when Walters is on). Comedian Behar is the wisecracker who steps in with a joke or a little common sense. (In another era, she would have had a cigarette at all times and been Thelma Ritter.)
Hasselbeck, a veteran of "Survivor," has the mien (and the penchant for lip gloss) of a Republican sorority gal and often gets the sympathy vote because she is so clearly outgunned.
And then there's O'Donnell, who seems to be making up for all those years in the closet by being out about everything and whose presence and sheer volume often, unfortunately, turn "The View" into a one-woman show. "I say you're young because it is the only way I can justify the horrible things you believe," she said recently and icily to a stricken Hasselbeck. O'Donnell is the relentlessly political friend you had in college, saved from being a complete pain only by her sense of humor.
"Do I look thinner?" she asked last week. "Because I started a diet this morning." A diet she began, she explained, because when people e-mail her to tell her how much they hate her, they always call her fat, lesbian and anti-American, "and fat is always first. Like they don't have a problem with gay or a communist or whatever but that I'm fat gets them. Not that I'm trying to get thin," she added. "I just want my size 18 pants to fit better. Size 18, that's a real-woman size, am I right, ladies?" she asked the studio audience.
"Size \o716 \f7is a real-woman size," said Behar. "You go for a size 16."
"Yeah, OK, 16."
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