The last few weeks, I've gotten a lot of e-mails from people asking if the one new show they liked this season is coming back in the fall. (Usually, it's framed as, "My wife wants to know," but we can all see through that ruse.)
Your confusion is perfectly understandable. The networks mess with their schedules more than Lady Gaga does with her looks. Here's a simple rule of thumb: If you fell head over heels for a series, it's been canceled.
Don't let them feed you that malarkey about weak ratings, either. Here's a list of some of this year's nipped buds and the real reasons they were denied a second season:
Terra Nova. Fox's entertainment chief was willing to blow $5?million a week on this Jurassic Park clone only because he thought it would make him best friends with the show's executive producer, Steven Spielberg. No Christmas card? No renewal.
Missing. This sleek and cinematic Euro-thriller was on a fast track — until star Ashley Judd went home for the NCAA basketball finals. When her beloved Kentucky Wildcats won, she decided the grass was always bluer.
Awake. NBC wasn't crazy about the show's vision for its second season, in which Michael Britten (Jason Isaacs) was to wake up one morning as the family's washing machine and the next as its dryer. The network felt it was too static.
Unforgettable. The Poppy Montgomery police procedural seemed to have everything going for it, but I'm told that the concept of a woman who remembers everything — every detail, every conversation, every promise — began to seriously creep out Leslie Moonves and the other CBS suits.
Pan Am. This richly produced retro series re-created the golden age of commercial aviation, evoking an era when passengers were treated with courtesy, showered with amenities, and pampered with comfort. The airline industry threatened to boycott ABC unless this monstrosity was pulled from the schedule immediately.
Forget me not. The decision by Lane (Jared Harris) to hang himself in the office so his coworkers would find him on this week's Mad Men was pretty gruesome.
But it was better than his first suicide attempt: to asphyxiate himself with the exhaust from the luxury car his wife had just bought him. Because that wouldn't have twisted a knife in his poor widow's heart.
Type cast. There was footage online this week of Charlie Sheen going ballistic after a female security guard at the Staples Center, following procedure, refused to reopen a door he had used to duck out for a smoke during the Stanley Cup Finals.
Sheen's new cable sitcom debuts in less than three weeks. Its title: Anger Management.
Good theater. Did you watch any of the Queen's Diamond Jubilee ceremonies this week? The sun may have set on her empire, but the British still have a decided edge over us when it comes to costuming and set design.
End of an error. Drape the boardwalk in black. It was announced this week that the batch of episodes now being shot for Jersey Shore will be the last.
Say it ain't so, Snooki. The thing is, people tend to overlook the beach bums' cultural contributions. They are the Algonquin Round Table of this generation. Where else will we find the rapier wit of Ronnie? Deena's startling insights into the human condition?
Hear me, handmaidens of My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding: You are going to have to seriously step up your game.
Contact David Hiltbrand at 215-854-4552, dhiltbrand@phillynews.com, or follow on Twitter @daveondemand_tv. Read his blog, "Dave on Demand," at www.philly.com/dod.
