I stopped watching the TV show "Melrose Place" about three years ago. I wish I could say it was because Amanda and Jake's endless bed-hopping had grown tiresome. Or that interest in the life of cabby-cum-ad executive Billy Campbell had waned. But the truth is that I stopped watching only because my work schedule no longer allowed me to get home in time. So even though I haven't seen an episode in a while, news that Fox is canceling the show after this season was a little saddening. For a generation of Americans now in the twilight of their 20s, no other series on television better illustrates how weirdly compelling bad TV can be.
     Because the average Journal reader tends to be closer in age to the parents of the average "Melrose" viewer, the show's premise may need explaining. "Melrose" tracks the lives of neighbors in a Los Angeles apartment complex. The tenants have much in common - clear skin, slim builds, cool clothes, amorality - but can't seem to get along. Essentially a semi-revealing slow-motion orgy - interspersed with scenes of people plotting the death or downfall of one another - "Melrose" is a realm where most everyone hates everyone else (save his lover), and no one trusts anyone (including his lover). Marriages do exist, but I suspect this is only because adultery is more exciting than mere fornication.
     Despite its themes of sex and deception, "Melrose" in its heyday wasn't "Dallas" or "Dynasty." It was closer to a send-up of those shows. You didn't tune into "Dallas" because the Ewings put you in stitches. But you did watch "Melrose" to hear Amanda's attempt to comfort Matt, her gay neighbor who's just been charged in the murder of his lover's wife: "I want you to know that while some people may not feel comfortable with your presence here, you have my full support. I mean, the way I see it, even if you did murder that woman, it was clearly a crime of passion. I mean, it's not as though you're a serial killer. Anyway, I'm off."
     Or you may have heard Kimberly angrily say to Michael, her three-timing husband: "Your first ex-wife, who is now your mistress, moves in with you and your second ex-wife, who is now your girlfriend, and then you come to your present wife to sort it all out!"
     These exchanges, mostly delivered with unsurpassed woodenness by actors doing their darndest, endeared viewers to the show. When Kimberly, who for reasons I forget, detonated an explosive in the laundry room, she simply couldn't understand why everyone was now shunning her. Matt explained: "Kimberly, you did blow this place up. And to be honest with you, nobody can get past that."
     Heather Locklear, who plays the anatomically alluring Amanda, was probably the show's biggest draw in those days. But my favorite character was Dr. Peter Burns, who's played by Jack Wagner. While most of the cast looked to be performing at the limits of their talent, Mr. Wagner, who brought daytime soap experience to his role, seemed to just act like was a bad actor. His character would almost wink at the viewer, and he was forever smirking.
     Fox has "Melrose" billed a drama, but many fans of its best years (1993-95) saw it as a 60-minute situation comedy. The show's popularity among young professionals was remarkable. Bars would hold "Melrose Night," where group viewings took place. Internet Web sites and chat rooms proliferated. Cast members were featured in magazines like Rolling Stone. T-shirts, hats and joke books ("Life Lessons From Melrose Place") appeared. An episode of "Seinfeld" even paid tribute to the show's embarrassing popularity.
     Why did "Melrose" score so well with young, educated viewers who should have known better? And why were they tuning into "drama" for a comedy fix, anyway? It is tempting to search for greater meaning in the "Melrose" phenomenon. So in true "Melrose" fashion, let's give into temptation.
     Spun from "Beverly Hills 90210," which provides weekly morality tales for high-schoolers, "Melrose" was conceived as a serious drama that would do the same for upwardly mobile twentysomethings. The first-season ratings, however, were disappointing. Apparently, and this is a good thing, America's twentysomethings don't look to television for moral guidance. The next season, the show changed course. Out with the life lessons and in with the irreverence. Ratings jumped and a hit was in the making. Television predictably tried to replicate "Melrose's" success, but inferior knockoffs - "Models," "Central Park West" - quickly disappeared, proving audiences do have some standards, even among bad shows.
     A former writer for "Melrose" told me that much of its audience has now moved on to shows like "Ally McBeal," a somewhat smarter comedy, but a type that didn't exist in the "Melrose" golden years. "Melrose" filled a void that no longer needs filling. But it showed us that if low-brow television does a better job of entertaining than supposedly more sophisticated fare, people will watch it. People are cleverer at their TV viewing - they add layers of irony and pleasure - than TV-bashers give them credit for. We're not what we watch.