Provocative ‘Swingtown,’ with its ’70s feel, not just about sex

I was ready to be disappointed. Of all the pilots filmed last spring, I was looking forward to exactly two: “Swingtown” and “Viva Laughlin.” And we all know how that one turned out. Well, the eight or nine of you who watched it do.

But from the opening scene — in which pilot Tom Decker (Grant Show), who’s stripped down to his undershirt, flies a jumbo jet while rockin’ a porn ‘stache, Luke Perry sideburns, feathered hair and a gold necklace, all to the tune of Norman Greenbaum’s “Spirit in the Sky” — you couldn’t knock the grin off my face with a Pet Rock.

A few seconds later, Tom brings a young stewardess home for a threeway with his wife, Trina (Lana Parrilla). And before the girl is even out the door, Trina’s already eyeing her next conquest: the Millers, the strait-laced couple who just bought the house across the street.

Bruce (Jack Davenport) and Susan Miller (Molly Parker) are the heart and soul of “Swingtown.” In an afternoon, they moved from a middle-class neighborhood with cookouts in the streets to an upscale suburb with full-on orgies in the basements.

Now they’re torn between the safety of their old neighbors, fellow parents Roger (Josh Hopkins) and Janet Thompson (Miriam Shor) — like something straight out of one of those quaint scouring pad commercials, Janet’s decided that if the rest of the world is going to be dirty, then by God, her oven will be the cleanest around — and the temptation of the childless Deckers, who flaunt their Dom Perignon, flashy sports cars and new ideas about marriage that threaten to put the “bi” in “bicentennial.”

Forget all the grisly murders of the “CSIs,” all the twisted perversion of “Criminal Minds” and all the adolescent sex jokes of “Two and a Half Men.” No series demonstrates just how much CBS has changed in the past decade or so than “Swingtown.” Ten years ago, anything by that name would have starred Angela Lansbury and Dick Van Dyke and would have focused on fans of Benny Goodman.

Surprisingly, though, while sex hangs over most every scene like a cloud of Hai Karate, “Swingtown” isn’t really about sex. Sure, the name is provocative. But then “Discoville” or “Polyesterburgh” don’t have the same ring. And “That ’70s Show” already was taken.

In reality, it’s about societal upheaval. It’s about women who want something more out of their lives. And it’s about men who have no idea what to do with their wives … or their hair.

It’s about kids trying to make sense of a changing world. It’s about a dysfunctional neighbor dealing with her crazy, coked-out mom. And it’s about a teenage girl who writes book reports on “Tropic of Cancer” for her Dylan-listening, young-Richard-Dreyfus-looking teacher.

In short, it’s like a long-lost episode of “Love, American Style.” And it has the spirit of ’76 down cold. (You’re probably thinking I’m a little young to remember 1976. But I grew up in Western Kentucky, and 1976 didn’t get there until the middle of 1983.)

In “Swingtown,” every Friday is sloppy joe night. Friends offer each other Harvey Wallbangers. And the music hits all the right notes, from Seals & Crofts to Captain & Tennille. The whole thing’s like a K-Tel Records eight-track sprung to life. (Yes, the Rita Coolidge and Fleetwood Mac songs weren’t released until the following year, but it doesn’t feel right to nitpick when you’re having this much fun.)

About the only thing really wrong with “Swingtown” is its time slot. In a scheduling move that should only anger viewers, it’s on against “Fear Itself” (10 p.m. Thursday, KVBC-TV, Channel 3), a horror/suspense anthology series that’s one of only two other scripted entries on the networks this summer. (“Flashpoint,” a Canadian police drama that CBS bought a stake in during the panic-filled days of the writers strike, will debut July 11.)

But that shouldn’t deter you from watching “Swingtown.” Or “Fear Itself” for that matter. Ideally, you should go nuts, record one and watch them both. If either of them should somehow become a hit, it would strike the first blow against the summer’s wall-to-wall glut of cheap reality TV.

Maybe you’re not used to watching network dramas during the summer. Maybe you’re not used to watching the networks at all during the summer.

But tune in and bring a friend.

If “Swingtown” is any indication, this summer’s all about trying new things.

Christopher Lawrence’s Life on the Couch column appears on Mondays. E-mail him at clawrence@reviewjournal.com.