![]() If campiness was meant to underscore all this (a la Ryan Murphy, perhaps?), it fails to convey. He drives her to an empty parking lot once the song plays (and while she’s performing oral sex on him) he stabs her to death. It isn’t long before Kent zeroes in on his latest victim (she’s very “Flashdance”), but before they leave, he uses this thing called a pay phone to make a dedication request to a local rock station (“Feels Like the First Time” by Foreigner). In an opening scene that at least features carefully chosen period details, Kent visits the Whiskey-a-Go-Go, where the band Mickey Ratt (later known simply as Ratt) is playing a set. It’s the late summer of 1982 (like, omigod), which is significant, I guess, as a moment between the new-wavy MTV explosion and the emergence of hard-rocking hair bands. ![]() Presumptuously conceived by its producers as an anthology series in which each season will take place in a different murderous decade, “Wicked City” begins with the fictional tale of a slimy-yet-suave serial killer, Kent Grainger (“Gossip Girl’s” Ed Westwick - remember him?), who prowls the Sunset Strip rock clubs in search of victims. “Wicked City” is also the last thing a TV viewer needs right now - it’s violent in a dumb, done-before, tediously psychosexual way. ![]() ABC’s abysmal crime series “Wicked City” (premiering Tuesday) is the last thing Los Angeles needs - more self-reflective nostalgia for its favorite criminal eras, when men were men and dames were dames and you could leave the beheaded bodies of said dames in creative places meant to taunt hard-nosed police detectives who had no access to a DNA database or copious security-cam footage. ![]()
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