LOS ANGELES - The lawns on Wisteria Lane are crisply cut, the homes freshly painted and the residents look as youthful as Girl Scouts. But there's reason to suspect it's all a facade. "Desperate Housewives" is crawling into its seventh season, a point where even great series start to show cracks, where viewers begin to wax romantically about the "early days" and wish that everyone involved in their once-beloved show would take a permanent vacation.
Truth is, "Housewives" started losing loyalists long ago. In its first season, the ABC series was nominated for nine Emmys and drew 23.7 million viewers a week. Last season, the average audience was a little over 14 million, and the cast and crew have mustered only three Emmy nominations in the past two years.
The mass exodus is largely deserved. Too often, the show's writers have leaned on ridiculous twists lifted from the worst of daytime soaps. Jeff Greenstein, a longtime producer, admitted the writers went overboard in Season Five when Kyle MacLachlan's character was drugged and violated by his own wife. While he was at it, Greenstein could have tacked on the numerous disasters that have befallen the neighborhood -- the tornado, the nightclub fire, the grocery-store hostage crisis, the plane crash -- ridiculous events that helped contribute to more than 35 deaths and 1,000 times as many raised eyebrows.
"There are times we've gotten a little too big," said Greenstein, standing on one of the set's pristine porches during a break in shooting. "The show has to be grounded in reality."
Creator Marc Cherry seems to have reminded himself of that golden rule, at least judging from the new season's first episode.
The premiere is packed with the zippy zingers that made us fall in love with the dramedy in the first place, thanks in large part to the return of Paul Young (Mark Moses), the widowed husband of the show's narrator, Brenda, and still the creepiest villain in the show's history. He's just been sprung from prison for a murder he didn't commit and insists on moving back among his old neighbors.
"They never came to the trial, they never visited you in prison," says his befuddled lawyer. "It'd be understandable if you hated them a little."
Young replies with gravitas worthy of Anthony Hopkins: "I don't hate them -- a little."