Yes, it may seem surprising to hear that The O.C. - Fox's ex-hit teen drama, supplanting sex, "bitch," and Seth Cohen on the masses - is actually still airing. Fans will remember the near-perfect first season (and the perfect pilot, where we met Phantom Planet's polarizing "Califooooooorniaaaa"), and the show's unique brand of clever soapy storytelling. Of course, that's until the bottom falls out midway through season two.

At least season two had its promising and engaging moments (porn scandals, short-lived lesbian trysts), whereas season three was an exorable string of bootless charity cases for Marissa (Mischa Barton), whose acts of kindness ended in her death in a not-so-shocking season finale. Barton, supposedly unintentionally, spilled the beans to Access Hollywood two days earlier.

Where to next? It seems like the perfect question, since four episodes into the fourth season, there's yet to be major plot movement to occur that could direct the show into becoming anything other than a saddening disappointment. The O.C. is stuck (for now) in an exacerbating, indefinite throat-clearing phase.

It's odd how Marissa, once limply-acted by paper-thin Mischa Barton, is only interesting now that she's dead. Season four picks up five months after the car accident that killed her, with everybody - namely, Ryan (Benjamin McKenzie) and Summer (Rachel Bilson) -  grieving in their own way. Marrisa's ex-beau Ryan turned to...cage fighting? Of all of The O.C.'s self-serving ways, this sidetracking seems to be the most gauchey. Ryan and Seth's (Adam Brody) manhunt trip to Mexico where they humorlessly try to track down Marissa's killer, Cam Gigadent's bendy Volchok was fun though, acting as a nice throwback to a similar episode in season one.

Elsewhere, Summer, once a lovable demoiselle, has devolved into an agrestic naturalist. She hid away at college in Rhode Island, febrile from Marissa Died Syndrome. "I don't do sarcasm anymore. I'm post-ironic," she explains to her shelved boyfriend back home, Seth. She putatively began protesting eco-style to bury her depression, though she quickly overcomes that with a borderline-ingenious, Summer-style roundabout the five stages of grief, completely contained in an opening scene.

It's never a good idea to leave too much of the idea making to The O.C. show-runners though, as they set yet another counteractive character between Seth and Summer: Chris Pratt's (late of Everwood) Che. Che, the buddy Matthew McConaughey should have had in Dazed and Confused, acts almost as an unwelcome distraction, save for Chris Pratt's incredible performance as a righteous tree lover. Though it seems familiar — remember season two's manstraction Zach, whose Michael Cassidy was even more boring than Marissa?