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ERIC DEGGANSThe graphic FX drama Nip/Tuck, about two Miami plastic surgeons, takes a scalpel to our collective self-hatred.
LOS ANGELES - He drew the scalpel along the underside of the patient's left eye, tracing a thin red line along the seam just underneath the eyebrow.
As he finished the incision, a nurse handed a small, curved metal tube to his partner, who would use it to suction away the blood and fat that would soon begin to ooze as the eyelid was surgically altered to mimic the shape of an Asian's eyes.
The partner promptly popped the tube into his mouth, blowing through it like a whistle.
"What music are we playing on the stereo, Turning Japanese?" asked actor Julian McMahon, breaking character ever so slightly during this rehearsal of FX's newest drama, Nip/Tuck.
Nip/Tuck focuses on two plastic surgeons with a burgeoning practice in Miami's South Beach. One is a focused, talented surgeon whose workaholic ways have alienated his wife and brought on a midlife crisis; the other is a hedonistic, amoral smoothy who convinces models to sleep with him and submit to loads of surgery, only to dump them after the work is done (guess which one jokester McMahon is playing).
Created by onetime Miami Herald staff writer Ryan Murphy (he also created the WB series Popular), Nip/Tuck unfolds as a meditation on how far people will go to be accepted, by themselves and others.
But to get to those lofty themes, producers first must recreate some of the most explicit operation scenes on fictional television; they show scalpel cuts, implant placements, liposuction moves and nose jobs (breaking the nose with a small hammer and a spike). It's all done with an in-your-face realism calculated to jolt viewers.
"People are willing to endure an incredible amount of pain to change their lives," Murphy said. "When I was doing the (first episode), I felt an obligation to show exactly how you do them. These are violent surgeries, and I wanted to show that. (Avoiding that) is like doing a cop show and not showing a gun being pulled."
To that end, McMahon and his on-screen partner, veteran actor Dylan Walsh (Blood Work, Congo), last week were hunched over a silicone-sculpted recreation of an actor's head, practicing the moves required to simulate the alteration of a man's eyelids. Sitting in a sound stage at Paramount Studios dressed to look like a small operating room, the two learned their moves as a complicated ballet, working to make each action seem confident, natural and precise.
The actors seemed to personify their characters, with Walsh emerging as the focused, attentive one, recounting a hospital visit to watch a similar procedure. McMahon, who hadn't bothered to do much research, was busy telling jokes and charming the crew, ready to fake his way through anything.
Linda Klein, a registered nurse who has served as a technical adviser on a long list of TV and film projects, including 24, Chicago Hope, JAG and Six Feet Under, played a nurse in the scene, handing each actor the surgical instruments while explaining the procedure in such depth, they could likely perform the operation for real by the time they finished filming.
The practice was important: Each prosthetic head costs about $30,000 (they're assembled by a company founded by the guy behind the first Planet of the Apes makeup), leaving little room for error once the cameras roll.
The production uses a creepy array of such realistic-looking models, from an implant-ready rump to a female torso with a malformed breast implant. "Silicone never degrades; it just gets dirty," said makeup artist James McKinnon, gesturing at three headless, legless torsos lying nearby, oblivious to the slightly ghoulish tableau. "Just run a baby wipe over them and you're ready to go."
Murphy knows that many critics and viewers will focus on the show's explicit medical and sex scenes - the bedroom exploits of McMahon's lusty Dr. Christian Troy easily rival those of the Sex and the City girls - but he also maintains that such things are just the cake's icing.
Instead, he points to the proliferation of makeover shows on TV, from Oprah-style makeup and hair changes to the surgery and dieting on ABC's Extreme Makeover. He sees people willing to go to outrageous lengths to change their appearance, in the belief that outward change will equal inner peace. It's fertile ground for a writer looking to comment on society.
And if the same number of viewers watch the show as had plastic surgery last year - nearly 7-million procedures, according to the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery - Nip/Tuck would notch twice the ratings of FX's most successful series.
"The opening of every show is (Walsh's character) asking a patient, "What don't you like about yourself?"' Murphy said. "I'm fascinated by why these people want these changes. We're hitting this at an amazing time, when it really is the zeitgeist."
Perhaps, but viewers may have to look past Tuesday's opening episode to see the true shape of the series. Crafted as a 90-minute roller-coaster ride, the episode outlines the struggle of Walsh's Dr. Sean McNamara to deal with a growing disillusionment over the seeming triviality of his work. That attitude quickly unravels when Troy dupes him into operating on a drug dealer seeking a new identity.
"What we do here is let people externalize the hate they feel about themselves," McNamara thunders at his partner during an argument. "Since Botox went wide, it's like a factory in here."
Still, it's not until the second hourlong episode, which revolves around McNamara's growing estrangement from his wife (Joely Richardson), Troy's growing attraction to her and a self-circumcision by another character, that the series' main themes emerge.
"All of the characters have something in common: They're alone in a populated world," Murphy said. "We're going to play with that."
Nip/Tuck is the second high-profile drama advanced by FX, a cable network fighting hard to develop itself as the standard cable version of HBO with explicit, groundbreaking series such as The Shield.
Centered on more subtle themes of loneliness, morality and yearning, Nip/Tuck may lack the primal appeal of The Shield, which is, at heart, an action-packed cop show. And the network's biggest challenge may be just getting viewers to sample the show.
"I know people have to hunt around for FX on their dial now and again," Murphy said. "But once they find it, hopefully they'll be hooked."
AT A GLANCE: Nip/Tuck debuts at 10 p.m. Tuesday on FX. Grade: A. Rating: TV-MA (Mature Audiences).