Replacing stars on hit series hinges on chemistry

Stars of returning shows often bolt as their contracts expire and they choose to move on (Carell), as salary negotiations turn sour (Meloni) and — far less frequently — as a history of substance abuse and vitriolic attacks on their producers spell doom for their career (well, you know).

But the sheer number of changes atop perennial hits this fall comes at a perilous time, as networks continue to bleed viewers and gear up for a new season that critics and industry executives agree lacks a certain firepower.

New chemistry is often hard to predict. "With a situation like CSI, the daunting task is to keep it going and bring a different spin to it," says CBS casting chief Peter Golden. But "you just never know," he says. "It's like a small circle of friends, and all of a sudden a stranger comes in. Is that going to be good? Or was that person kind of the glue that held the thing together?"

Carell and Sheen were clearly the glue of The Office and Men, their networks' most popular — and lucrative — comedies; audiences will decide in two weeks just how much of those shows' appeal relies on their stars. Ditto for Regis Philbin's pay-driven departure after 28 years from his daytime talk show on Nov. 18; no replacement has been named.

Bothered by 'Bewitched'

TV's history is littered with midlife cast changes, some successful, others abject failures.

In 1969, Bewitched weathered Dick York's replacement by Dick Sargent as Darrin Stephens. When Valerie Harper had her own pay dispute with NBC on 1980s family sitcom Valerie, Sandy Duncan stepped in, the show became The Hogan Family and lasted four more seasons.

ABC's Spin City recruited Sheen to replace the ailing Michael J. Fox and extended the sitcom's run for two years, until 2002. And Cheers remained a top three show after Kirstie Alley replaced Shelley Long as the love interest for Danson's Sam in the sixth season; the newfound dynamic eventually made it TV's top-rated show.

"There's a pretty good history there that it can actually help shows by changing the chemistry, as long as you don't replace the whole cast at once," as NBC's Saturday Night Live did in 1980, says TV historian Tim Brooks. Cheers was a "perfect model" in a recasting that gave "a different spin or tonality to the show while not losing the core of what the show was about."

Not all swaps are as successful. In 1960, James Garner walked out on Western hit Maverick in a pay dispute; Roger Moore, added as the gunslinger's cousin, couldn't hold up the show. Nor could quasi-replacements for Freddie Prinze when the star of NBC's Chico and the Man committed suicide in 1977.

Decades later, Garner couldn't help save ABC's hit family comedy 8 Simple Rules when star John Ritter died suddenly. Rather than "pull a Darrin" and recast him, Brooks says — as daytime soaps often do —Rules killed off the character but "became something of a downer" and never recovered.

Large ensembles are essentially built to withstand inevitable departures. M*A*S*M*A*S*H and ER had protection when stars including McLean Stevenson and George Clooney left, and plot-driven Law & Order created the model for revolving-door casts, with cast members coming and going several times over the course of its 20-year run. Two CBS dramas —Chicago Hope and Criminal Minds— lost star Mandy Patinkin, without much of a ratings downturn.

The revolving door might swing again: 30 Rock's two-time Emmy standout Alec Baldwin has said he plans to quit when his own contract ends in May, and CSI's Marg Helgenberger also is threatening to leave, just as she did last season. Both might be serious, or merely firing the opening salvos in contract negotiations.

It's the economics

Often actors, who sign six-year contracts for new shows, demand pay hikes just as ratings drop and their networks fund a higher share of the production costs. And the tougher economics of network TV lead programmers to perform a mental calculus. Is saving a big six-figure-an-episode salary on a show that costs up to $4 million an episode worth a potentially modest ratings decline? Or will it hurt the show's value in syndication, TV's gravy train?

"You have to decide whether the show can survive without them, vs. how much are you willing to pay," says NBC Entertainment chairman Bob Greenblatt. "If you make that decision, you have to be prepared for a lower number."

Among the most radical examples of budgetary triage was David E. Kelley's legal hit The Practice. Shortly after renewing the series for an eighth season in 2003, ABC cut its license fee in half, forcing Kelley to fire most of his cast, including star Dylan McDermott. But the show added Spader as feisty firm leader Alan Shore. Though the turmoil marked one of Kelley's darkest hours, in hindsight, the move, which a year later spawned spinoff Boston Legal, was a positive. "Not only did the show get better, it occasioned a new series that lasted five years," Kelley says.

'Office' politics

After guest-starring in The Office's season finale, Spader is once again the interloper, but he takes it in stride. "In both cases I wasn't so familiar with the show that I had many preconceptions. I'm coming in and bringing something different," he says. He'll turn up in 15 episodes this season as Robert California, the new CEO of Dunder Mifflin-Sabre, while Carell's regional manager slot remains unfilled.

Producer Paul Lieberstein puts a positive spin on the change-up: "It's really hard to think of new stories after having done 150 (episodes), and a new character like this makes it that much easier. It feels like a little bit of a different show."

Spader's plan? "Go slowly, tread lightly and have as much fun as you possibly can," without being locked into a long-term contract that's typical for new-series stars. "This is a great place to visit for a while."

Success or failure is hard to predict. "I don't think anybody knows until you try it," Kelley says. "But it's a very risky move in television. The audience is coming back to see characters, and all of a sudden, you take the characters away, you've given them a reason not to tune in."

That's surely the risk CBS is taking with Two and a Half Men, extended after Sheen's forced exit, following his mostly one-sided but very public feud with creator Chuck Lorre.

Hugh Grant was offered the role first, but Kutcher, who plays Internet billionaire Walden Schmidt, the new owner of the late Charlie Harper's house, will bring an entirely different rhythm to the series. The network hopes he can recruit younger fans of his movies and his own career launching pad, Fox's That '70s Show.

CSI, once TV's top drama, saw its ratings spiral when original star William Petersen left and was replaced two years ago by Fishburne, a recasting that never quite jelled; ratings declined sharply. Now entering its 12th season in a new Wednesday slot opposite SVU, "it's a daunting task to keep it going and bring a different spin to it," says CBS' Golden.

The network wanted a big TV star but assumed Danson was unavailable; he's signed to HBO comedy Bored to Death, which returns next month. (HBO allowed CBS to borrow him.) His addition is "like reinventing the series," says executive producer Carol Mendelsohn, and adds a dose of levity to darker stories. Danson likens his character, supervisor D.B. Russell, to legendary NBA coach Phil Jackson.

"He's coming in to handle a group of incredibly bright people (who) were on a slippery slope because of things that happened in the last season. I'm a family man, and I'm being brought in to make the team work as well as possible," he says. "And that rings a bell with me, even though I've never played a detective or anything. Trying to hold a crazy group of people, whether they're crazy bright or crazy silly, is something that I've done before and I kind of respond to."