THE world's most famous ZIP code returned to primetime Tuesday, albeit at a different network than during its first 10-season run; the CW network rather than Fox. It also arrives with a truncated title, the “Beverly Hills, 90210” of the original shortened to simply “90210” because short is the new long (or at least, the new cool). Television would trim “Citizen Kane” to “Kane” were it ever to go to series. But by any handle, high school is high school, and the world of spoiled rich brats hasn't changed much in the 18 years since the first “90210” premiered. But let it be said at the outset that the latest, hotly anticipated new edition doesn't embarrass as much as many had feared given the decision by the CW publicity department not to send out screeners in advance to critics. This form of journalistic blasphemy will no doubt result in the show getting panned by many scribes just on general principles. But the truth is it really isn't so horrible after all. Some will be surprised that the cast is even able to make it through the script without succumbing to chronic hyperventilation. So based on that measure, “90210” knocks it out of the park. The writers don't mix up the names of the characters. The actors remember the character each is portraying without exception. And the stage is set for a slick and sharply crafted teen soap that pays homage to the first “90210” without wallowing in past, uh, glory. Moreover, Jennie Garth and Shannen Doherty reprise their roles from the original without leaving us worrying that they might be shooting their career in the proverbial foot. For one thing, they look terrific and do fine; for another, better to be typecast than never cast at all. The show stars veterans Rob Estes (“Women's Murder Club”) as the new principal at West Beverly High and Lori Loughlin as his wife. The plot has them returning to their Beverly Hills childhood home from Kansas, toting along their improbably poised daughter Annie (Shenae Grimes) and adopted black son Dixon (Tristan Wilds, seeming here to break up the incessant whiteness). Before the pilot is 20 minutes old, the kids will have embroiled themselves in unfortunate controversies while running afoul of the cool kids. The most vapid is Naomi (AnnaLynne McCord), a blonde who is so prissy and pampered that she actually appears to bleed nail polish. Her boyfriend, Ethan (Dustin Milligan), seems way out of her league despite being a star lacrosse player. This immediately leaves us thinking: lacrosse? Is tennis somehow not quite highbrow enough? The story line of the two-hour opener (actually two separate episodes strung together into a single seamless serialized presentation) revolves around all of the usual upper-crust concerns: cheating, taking short cuts to success, finding out you had a kid out of wedlock more than a decade ago and of course, trying to explain it to your folks that your little weeknight date involved a roundtrip plane flight and dining in San Francisco. God, if we had a nickel for every time that happened. It's mostly pretty ludicrous stuff as detailed by scribes Gabe Sachs, Jeff Judah, Rob Thomas and Darlene Hunt (who had a hand in penning both hours), featuring the usual parade of beautiful people doing (and saying) divertingly trite things.
