In “Dawson’s Creek”, a successful 90s show centred around unusually articulate teens, Joshua Jackson was a sensation. He managed to lend charm to the show’s excessively verbose dialogues with his slightly crooked grin and melancholic gaze, becoming the most cherished actor of the series (despite portraying a character named Pacey). Kevin Williamson, the mind behind the show, demonstrated his brilliance by leveraging the teenage propensity to emulate grown-up conversations, even if the substance of the dialogue was no more than a casual greeting (typical of the era). Beware, however, young men: overdoing the tilted smile or the mournful look can make you appear somewhat deranged.
On the other hand, Don Johnson was the celebrated face of the ’80s hit series “Miami Vice”, masterminded by Michael Mann. This cop show presented two fashionable and wealthy police officers, parading around in luxury cars, battling drug dealers to the tune of Phil Collins’ sophisticated pop tunes. Despite its glorification of law enforcement, Johnson, who essayed the character of Sonny Crockett, made the seemingly impossible task of eradicating drug crime look appealing with his penetrating gaze and designer stubble. Attention, young men: the difference between a “sharp look” and a “startled stare” is subtle, and in no circumstances should you attempt to sketch your stubble using a marker.
The appealing physical features and seemingly effortless charisma of both Jackson and Johnson often appear to be a double-edged sword. When an actor displays such “natural magnetism,” audiences often don’t desire to see them exert effort; they simply wish to see them exude their charm effortlessly on set. As a result, both Jackson and Johnson are caught in a constant loop of being typecast, forever marked by their iconic roles, “Pacey” and “Crockett”. They are often cast not only for their potential contribution to a production, but also due to the strong nostalgic attachment we have for their characters in Dawson’s Creek and Miami Vice. Television shows seem to exploit their recognisable faces almost insidiously.
Take for example Doctor Odyssey, a show produced by prolific showman Ryan Murphy, featuring both Jackson and Johnson. Murphy is known for producing a relentless stream of shows, so much so, one might question if his output surpasses even his own viewing capacity. Following this trajectory, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he were not able to keep up with all his creations. One could speculate he’s transformed into a formidable show-producing machine since around the third season of Glee. If this assumption holds any truth, then the conceptual premise for Doctor Odyssey might be likened to a blend of The Love Boat and Grey’s Anatomy starring memorable characters Crockett and Pacey.
In the series, Joshua Jackson plays the title character Doctor Odyssey, albeit that name isn’t his actual nomenclature, rather a role ascribed to him based on his occupation and his workplace, which is a ship. For easiness’ sake, let’s refer to him as Pacey hereafter. Pacey is employed as a medical professional on a high-end cruise liner where he often utilizes his own ‘personal vessel’ so to speak- a nod towards the sexual undertones rampant in the show, very much in line with typical Ryan Murphy style.
As was the case during his tenure on Dawson’s Creek, Pacey quickly finds himself embroiled in a romantic three-way intrigue as soon as he steps onto the boat. He passionately kisses one of his fellow nursing assistants in the initial episode, which is permissible since there are no existing laws or HR policies in the open seas. Captain Crockett (acted by Johnson), skipper of the vessel, even actively encourages the handsome crew, including Pacey, to socialise with the passengers in subsequent episodes. This captain’s role could well earn the series the alternate title, ‘Sea Pimp’.
Why are the wealthy so enamoured with maritime activities? Professionals aim for sailboats. The affluent settle for plush cruises. While the obscenely rich splurge on yachts. Do they feel the sea’s enticing allure from their residence of opulence? Is the earth, by some twist of fate, attempting to submerge the most extravagant consumers of resources? Even though I lack a science background, my response would be affirmative.
Each episode of the television series Doctor Odyssey highlights scenes where the characters serenely navigate their lavish boat, revelling in materialistic extravagance until a medical crisis strikes a passenger. Next, follows extensive medical discourse among the three romantically conflicted opportunists, exchanging indifferent, puzzled glances, all the while with a textbook ‘Adonis’ expression. Once they manage to restore the patient’s health, tranquillity descends upon their floating habitat.
The certainty that any disease will be resolved on the Odyssey is clear. There’s no discord in this series. Even potentially explosive relationships between coworkers are magically mellowed down, paving the way for Signs of camaraderie by the second episode’s conclusion. “No more squabbles over females,” one handsome character proposes to the other, albeit somewhat unconvincingly. “Let’s rise above such base behaviour.”
In another episode, a tiny, miserable life raft with an unfortunate migrant worker gets picked up by the deluxe liner. None of the well-off passengers draw any parallels between her dire predicament and their opulent surroundings. However, one character audaciously uses the migrant’s plight as a metaphor for her personal issues.
If there’s a central theme to take away from Doctor Odyssey, it would be the comforting image of Pacey from Dawson’s Creek embracing you with a comforting whisper of, “Hush, everything’s going to be just fine.” And perhaps, that’s a powerful enough message.
Certain individuals online posit that the slick, polished, unearthly quality of Doctor Odyssey’s maritime paradise implies its inhabitants are deceased, residing in an intermediate state between heaven and hell. However, I entertain the thought that it may be us, the viewers, who reside in this bereft, regurgitated limbo space.
Fortunately, we also have a national platform keen on joining this limbo-like journey. A comedy titled ‘Good Boy,’ currently on RTÉ Player, revolves around a youthful, directionless, hirsute man (portrayed by Tony Cantwell). His character grapples with cosmic existential questions, fleeting fame, a potential ADHD diagnosis, outlandish footwear, and a communicating canine. The show, beaming with charm, uniqueness, and humour boasts a remarkably talented ensemble.
Why the show is restricted to the Player rather than broadcast on traditional terrestrial channel, remains an enigma. Possibly, contemporary youth are ignorant of the existence of terrestrial television, and maybe RTÉ has resigned on their interest. Fair play, given the circumstances. Observe the sprightly youth, endeavouring to substitute us despite their enviable coiffure. I’d wager they’re clueless about who Pacey is.