Television can still shock, so instead of a recap of the year's best and worst, here's a sampling of the year's surprises: a pair of trendlets that injected novel twists into hidebound genres, comedy and reality, and a handful of performances and moments that upended expectations.
Not the type
First, there was playing against type: actors accepting and occasionally excelling at roles that challenged their public perception. But on television this year, especially in comedy, actors moved to the next step: playing to type, through the delicate art of playing themselves, as if the holy grail of comedy writing had suddenly become "Being John Malkovich."
Appearing as oneself isn't the simple validation of one's celebrity it used to be. Instead, it's a rejoinder to the meta-narrative of one's own fame. Sometimes it's a knowing embrace, sometimes it's a refusal of the terms. In either case, it's a disruption.
"Entourage," of course, is ground zero for this phenomenon. Though it notably has failed to make its blithe star, Adrian Grenier, as famous as the character he plays, it has long exploited the fame of others -- Jason Patric, Mandy Moore, James Cameron, Gary Busey, James Woods, Martin Scorsese -- to create a credible Hollywood universe. Short of, say, "The Larry Sanders Show," no program has ever allowed the famous such a prominent platform to toy with public opinion of them.
This year on "Entourage," Seth Green, actor, reprised his role as Seth Green, imbecile, continuing to try to stonewall the managing career of Eric Murphy (Kevin Connolly). For Green, playing himself as so loathsome (and so well, at that) is a trick, though it should be said it's one that does him no favors.
During Oprah Winfrey's stunt turn on "30 Rock," she was clearly taking aim at herself, telling Liz Lemon (Tina Fey) about a few of her trademark (and sometimes preposterous) "favorite things": calypso music, sweater capes, etc. But it's hard for Oprah to be anything other than Oprah, so what was meant to be a comedic riff played as an only slightly exaggerated version of the real thing; "30 Rock" barely nudged her.
On "The Game," Robin Givens played a publicity-hungry version of herself, marrying star quarterback Malik Wright (Hosea Chanchez) in order to improve her fading fortunes. Haughty and entitled, she was compelling, right up until she delivered a sermon on the plight of black actresses in Hollywood that might have been righteous had it not been so ham-fisted. It felt like a position paper, inspiring more ire than sympathy, except on the part of Malik, who decided to play along with her scam.
