A few quiet shows worth celebrating

‘Year-end roundups of bests and worsts are almost by definition hegemonic, tending toward the biggest, the flashiest, the most-paid-attention-to. Herewith, as a counterbalance, is a collection of noteworthy shows, performances and trends that almost slipped through the cracks, including mine.

“The Game” (CW): Earlier this season on “The Game,” which revolves around members of a professional football team and the women who love them, star quarterback Malik Wright (Hosea Chanchez) was being interviewed about his many possessions. “Hey, kids, remember this,” he gleefully offered. “You ain’t gotta sell drugs to live like you sell drugs. And that’s one to grow on.”

The scene was many things all at once -- an indictment, a sendup, a wink, a knee-slapper, a peek behind veiled walls. It was both irresponsible and comprehensible, an inside joke and a grim stereotype. For a network sitcom, it was a remarkably nuanced and complicated moment.

For this reason and many others -- that the show’s characters are primarily African American probably doesn’t help -- “The Game” is the most underappreciated show on TV. Now in its second season, it is utterly modern and refreshingly direct. The writing is blunt and unaffected -- not everything feels like a setup for a quick punch line, even though it typically is. And the show toggles easily between humor and pathos -- there are serious subplots of steroid use, difficult black-white relations and infidelity -- but it never feels labored. (By contrast, show creator Mara Brock Akil’s other series, “Girlfriends,” has descended into melancholy, with a miscarriage, prescription drug abuse and a deployment to Iraq. Both shows are executive produced by Akil and Kelsey Grammer. Yes, that Kelsey Grammer.)

“The Game” succeeds because it feels as much a part of the pop slipstream as the world it mirrors: the stratospheric rise of professional sports, the suffusion of hip-hop culture into all areas of American life and the increasing invasions into celebrity culture and the normalizing of tabloidism. When characters make a misstep on the show, they’re inevitably documented. After Malik’s suspect interview, his mother-manager, Tasha (Wendy Raquel Robinson), appears on a “Crossfire”-like sports show to devastating effect. And when Malik slugs a wheelchair-bound cartoonist who lampooned him for his comment, amateur video footage quickly hits the news.

At the end of last season, Melanie (Tia Mowry) learned that her boyfriend, Derwin (Pooch Hall), had been unfaithful to her. This season opens with a deserved slap . . . again, with camera phones snapping. Commentary is almost as important as actual events on “The Game.” (Cleverly, the CW sent out “Team Derwin” and “Team Melanie” T-shirts to promote the return of “The Game” in the fall.)

Still, even when mediated, the show’s moments have emotional heft, particularly between Melanie and Derwin. Mowry -- she and her twin sister, Tamera, starred in the long-running sitcom “Sister, Sister” -- has emerged as a dramatic force in her own right. And she’s sharpest when her character is angriest. Given to overacting and bugging-out eyes, Hall strikes the show’s only false notes -- he’s believably immature but erratic.

The rest of the cast is sharp. Malik and Tasha are mother and son who look like they could be siblings, but there isn’t a hint of discomfort in their interaction. Jason (Coby Bell), the third player in the inner circle, is a spendthrift with a quick wit and a struggle with performance enhancers, all of which put him in deep with Kelly (Brittany Daniel), his wife.

Kelly is the only main character on “The Game” who is white, but the specter of racial divisions and misunderstandings provides some of the show’s funniest moments. When a friend tells Malik that the cartoon that’s mocking him is read by white people, he exclaims, “Oh, this is serious!” After Tasha deftly handles a crisis, a rival (white) agent deadpans, “You should be running FEMA.”

It’s a quick jab, but just the sort of not-fully-thought-out sentiment that smacks genuine. Equally convincing are the show’s music supervision -- with hits by Soulja Boy and Shop Boyz -- and its wardrobe styling, a study in Los Angeles moneyed casual. Even the guest stars are well chosen, a who’s who of young black America: rappers Lil’ Kim and Mike Jones, a hilarious turn from singer Musiq Soulchild, professor Michael Eric Dyson (“Don’t be a $40-million slave,” he admonishes Malik), comedian Mo’Nique, journalist Tavis Smiley and skateboarder Stevie Williams. In this respect, at least, the relative obscurity of “The Game” is an asset: There’s nowhere else on TV for these folks to come as they are. The show has become a sort of cultural speak-easy. When more people know about it, and when it knows about more people, it might only suffer.

Max, on “TMZ” (syndicated): Amid the committed cluelessness of show macher Harvey Levin and the near-sycophancy of his fellow reporters, the surfer-esque post-irony of “TMZ’s” Max is welcome and intriguing. His colleagues are honed cynics, but he, with his broad face and shaggy blond hair, instead sells childlike innocence about the ways of Hollywood. Levin often pokes at his limited reference points, but when you’re holding forth on Patrick Dempsey’s “goofy-looking Porsche,” what more do you need? As Mark McGrath of “Extra” encouraged him this year: Max, get your own show -- your rad reports are too beautiful for this world. (Or, apparently, a last name -- “TMZ” declined to provide it.)

Will Yun Lee as Jae Kim on “Bionic Woman” (NBC): As he was on FX’s “Thief,” Lee is a master of quietude here. Even his hand-to-hand combat training with Jaime Sommers (Michelle Ryan), the new Bionic Woman, is subdued and controlled. He’s shaken only when he comes face to face with previous model Sarah Corvus (Katee Sackhoff), who can reduce him to shivers whether in bed or when he’s forced to put a bullet in her.

Amy Brenneman and Paul Adelstein as Violet Turner and Cooper Freedman on “Private Practice” (ABC): Rightly roundhoused by critics, the “Grey’s Anatomy” spinoff has been largely without heat, save for the fraught nonrelationship between Violet and Cooper. He loves her. She, hopelessly in her own head, won’t see it. Or more likely, can’t. When she propositioned him for an emotionless fling, he was thrilled. The moment she disrobed, he was devastated, knowing he couldn’t go through with it. That Brenneman was tapped for Dove’s real-women ad campaign, following Sara Ramirez of “Grey’s,” only reemphasizes one of the things Shonda Rhimes does well: boldly showcase unvarnished beauty.

Glenn Fitzgerald as the Rev. Brian Darling on “Dirty Sexy Money” (ABC): No one on television points quite like Darling -- he uses two fingers, squeezed tight, and the full force of his forearm. The gesture is more than an insult -- it’s an attack. The reason? “He is fueled by contempt. Contempt permeates every cell of his being.” Or so says Tripp (Donald Sutherland), his father, who we’ve recently learned is actually not -- Brian is the product of an affair. Suddenly, his inability to gel with the rest of his family over three decades makes sense, and the humanity he’s lately been displaying, especially toward his son Brian Jr., feels like a beginning. Fitzgerald’s tightly wound physicality, his sheer weight of presence -- even through the small screen, he betrays his strong theater background -- is especially notable on this show in which characters can be frustratingly light.

Music, back on MTV: Sorta. Even though videos remain scarce on MTV, the channel has shrewdly developed a new avenue for showcasing music: specially taped performances and sketches that roll simultaneously with show credits, with a new artist rotating in every week. A few have been legit stars, but mainly they are acts who will benefit from the eyeballs: art-funk outfit Chromeo, agit-punks Against Me!, acoustic shredders Rodrigo y Gabriela, mouthy MC Aesop Rock.

Realists, back on reality television: There are always dissenters on reality television, but this year has seen several decidedly unfazed participants. Yale undergrad Victoria of “America’s Next Top Model” was deemed lippy for talking back to Twiggy when she was just, y’know, conversing. . . . After Trisha was booted from “The Real World” for striking Parisa, Isaac put things in perspective: “No one liked Trisha.” . . . Evel Dick of “Big Brother 8” won the prize for honesty that bordered on brutality. . . . And finally, Brad Womack, the “sexiest ‘Bachelor’ ever,” reneged on the whole process in the finale and chose no one, Chopard product placement and the dreams of millions be damned.