Writing Between the Lines

First, there was dialogue. Then, television scribes started experimenting.

Why not hear words from an unseen character like “Rhoda’s” Carlton the Doorman, “Charlie’s Angels’ ” Charlie or “Mork & Mindy’s” Orson?

Doogie Howser let us view entries in his computer journal, the digest of his adolescent angst. The narrator of “The Wonder Years,” the preteen protagonist all grown up, specialized in hindsight and contributed some necessary wryness. The sisters of “Sisters” appeared in present time and in soft-focus as their younger selves. Voice-over, flashbacks, dream sequences have all become part of TV’s bag of tricks.

In its first season, we knew what Ally McBeal was thinking because we heard not only dialogue, but also her private thoughts, which commented on the action. As the season moved along, Ally spent less time explaining her emotional state and let us see it: When she was feeling overwhelmed, she’d do a fantasy breaststroke through her office, which she envisioned as functioning underwater. When she was attracted to a guy, her imaginary tongue would reach out for a taste of him. When she wasn’t, he’d be dropped into a trash dumpster, an image that loomed large in her mind.

These occasional attempts at innovation often provide welcome relief in a medium that’s consistently criticized for suffering from galloping copycat’s disease. And as gifted writer-producers like David E. Kelley (“Ally McBeal,” “The Practice” and “Chicago Hope,” just to name his current progeny) become masters of their own universes, they have the power to try on visual and verbal tricks, then discard them like last year’s worn-out Gucci loafers. Next?

Any viewer can conduct a simple home test to judge how well these excursions work. If it takes you out of the story, it’s a bomb. If you can’t imagine an episode of your favorite show being as entertaining without narration or hallucinations set to the strains of Barry White, then be grateful for television’s willingness to try the untried.

Sometimes precious, occasionally annoying, the current crop of storytelling devices keep every show from looking alike. Now and then, they even advance a tale in clever and unusual ways. Consider these:

SHOW: “Just Shoot Me”

DEVICE: Between scenes, the cover of the fictional women’s magazine for which the gang toils serves as a bumper.

WHAT IT LETS THEM DO: Use cover blurbs to describe what the upcoming scene is really about; slip in a joke in a different way.

HOW WELL IT WORKS: Excellent! Especially for those who want to understand the, uh, subtext of a sitcom.

SHOW: “Ally McBeal”

DEVICE: Visual FX, e.g. Ally being dumped into a dumpster, Ally’s nose growing like Pinocchio’s.

WHAT IT LETS THEM DO: Peek inside her mind, take her emotional temperature.

HOW WELL IT WORKS: Depends on your tolerance for whimsy.

SHOW: “Once and Again”

DEVICE: Characters, shot in black and white, talk to the camera.

WHAT IT LETS THEM DO: Reveal inner thoughts and feelings, tell backstory.

HOW WELL IT WORKS: Depends on your appetite for inner thoughts and feelings.

SHOW: “Felicity”

DEVICE: Felicity speaks into a tape recorder, then sends tapes to a distant, older friend.

WHAT IT LETS THEM DO: Reveal inner thoughts and feelings; foment crisis, as when her commitment-phobic boyfriend discovers she loves him by sneakily listening to a tape.

HOW WELL IT WORKS: Her tape revelations are pretty overheated, but she’s a college girl, after all.

SHOW: “Sex and the City”

DEVICE: We see questions that sex columnist Carrie types on her laptop, such as “Are younger men the new drug?”

WHAT IT LETS THEM DO: Identify the theme of each episode.

HOW WELL IT WORKS: So that’s what all that bed-hopping is about!

SHOW: “Providence”

DEVICE: Sydney’s dead mother shows up for heart-to-heart chats.

WHAT IT LETS THEM DO: Save on wardrobe, since she always appears wearing the dress she died in.

HOW WELL IT WORKS: Thankfully, going to the other side hasn’t mellowed Mom.