Lost Girl: Season One

Lost Girl: Season One
Here's a show that, despite thieving its formula and story environment from an amalgamation of its forefathers, has potential, if its showrunners insist upon more stringent quality control. Lost Girl's take on supernatural beings hiding their powers to live among normal folk borrows most liberally from Joss Whedon's excellent Buffy the Vampire Slayer spin-off, Angel, and Alan Ball's fantastical sex and death soap opera, True Blood. Bo (Anna Silk, Being Erica) is a Succubus, a female demon who feeds off sexual energy. Raised by human parents, the young chi slurper had no idea what was happening when she pulled a Rogue on her first boyfriend, draining him to death with a kiss. Understandably wigged-out, and fearful of causing damage to any more loved ones, Bo ran away from home, learning how to manipulate and feed primarily off sexual predators. In the first episode, our drinker of horniness discovers she's one of the Fae, a species of folklore creatures with powers as diverse as their physical characteristics. Divided into tribes of light and dark, as colour-coding morality keeps motivations simple, Bo is pressured to pick a side, but she's not down with any decisions that limit her options for nookie, so for vagina-pleasing reasons, rather than political, she becomes the first Fae to shun allegiance to either group. With a spunky human sidekick in tow (a scene stealing Ksenia Solo) and a blossoming love triangle with a human doctor who works for the dark Fae and a werewolf cop who works for the light, Bo starts a detective agency to make some cash and do some good using her unique powers of persuasion. This effectively sets up the show's episode-to-episode format: investigate a bizarre crime, get pelvic a few times, learn a bit about Bo's past and uncover fragments of the larger history behind the Fae conflict. Lost Girl is at its best when slinging libido-charged zingers and casually treating promiscuity as a reasonable lifestyle choice, while exploring the wide possibilities of violent conflict between opposing supernatural ideologies, even though those ideologies are never defined beyond the broadest of strokes. Where it fails, and fails often, is in the horribly wooden performances by Bo's love interests: Kris Holden-Ried, as "sexy" wolf cop Dyson, and Zoie Palmer, as the "hot" doctor, Lauren. I've seen puppets more emotive. Unfortunately, these dual black holes of charisma sometimes rub off on Anna Silk and certain episode directors aren't up to the task of demanding another take when scenes fall flat. Compounding these issues are the distinctly stage-y, low budget look that plagues so many Canadian productions and writing as inconsistent as the central performance. It's mostly just the solid, likeable character work of Ksenia Solo, as Kenzi, and Richard Howland, as secretive, diminutive bartender Trick, which gives the impression that Lost Girl stands a chance of finding its footing. No special features are included. (eOne)